Over there the dollar alone rules, and all diplomacy is a pestilential swamp; decency is an infrequent guest, with scorn grinning ever over its shoulder; the entrepreneur is a rogue, the official a purchasable puppet, the lady a cold-cream-covered lady-peacock. The stubborn idealism, the cheerful ability of the American, his joy in giving, his achievements in and for art, science, culture--all that was scarcely noticed. Such a caricature could not be erased by compliments. Before Mr. Roosevelt bared his set of stallion's teeth (Hengstgebiss) to the Berliners, he had spoken cheerfully to Admirals Dewey and Beresford concerning the possibilities of a war of the Star-Spangled Banner against Germany. And gentler fellow-countrymen of the billboard man said: You're amazing. Yourselves devilishly greedy for profits, yet you scoff at us because we go chasing after business. You fetch heaps of money across the sea, and then turn up your sublimely snuffing noses as if it stinks. To reach an understanding would have been difficult even in times of peace. The American is unwilling to be either stiff or subservient. He does not wish to be accounted of less value as a merchant than the officer or official; wishes to do what he likes and to call the President an ox outright if he pleases. Leave him as he is; and do not continually hurt the empire and its swarms of emigrant children by the attempt to force strangers into the shell of your will and your opinion. Is it not possible that the American is analyzing the origin of the war in his own way? That he looks upon Belgium's fate with other eyes than the German? That he groans over "the army as an end in itself" and over "militarism"? That he does not understand us any quicker than the German Michel understands him? And that he puffs furiously when, after a long period of drought, the war, a European one, now spoils his trade? Only for months at the worst, Sam; then it will spring up again in splendor such as has never been seen before. No matter how the dice fall for us, the chief winnings are going to you. The cost of the war (expense without increment, devastation, loss of business) amounts to a hundred thousand million marks or more for old Europa; she will be loaded down with loans and taxes. Even to the gaze of the victor, customers will sink away that were yesterday capable of buying and paying. Extraordinary risks cannot be undertaken for many a year on our soil. But everybody will drift over to you--Ministers of Finance, artists, inventors, and those who scent profits. You will merely have to free yourselves from dross (and from the trust thought that cannot be stifled) and to weed out the tares of demagogy; then you will be the effective lords of the world and will travel to Europe like a great Nürnberg that teaches people subsequently to feel how once upon a time it felt to operate in the Narrows.