Yes, even to-day I can say with no less pride than usual that I believe in the American Spirit, in its sense of fairness and its love of justice, and while I trust that this country may be kept from so great a catastrophe as war, and I be kept from so severe a trial of my loyalty as having to choose on which side to fight, I know I would freely and unhesitatingly be on the side of my country, the United States of America.
Three glorious days had passed at Lake Mohonk and when the guests left that mountain top no one went more reluctantly than the Herr Director and his wife, and all the way back to the great city they felicitated upon their delightful experiences, while I rejoiced in my country and its spirit. When the Herr Director wrote his book I found that he acknowledged having discovered four things at Lake Mohonk. First, an unparallelled hospitality. Secondly, that the leading men of America are soberly practical, unemotional, somewhat self-centered; but, at the same time, men of high ideals. Thirdly, that its military men attend conferences for international arbitration, that they do not rattle their sabers, and in appearance cannot be distinguished from mere civilians. Finally, that the American man boasts most and loudest of his sense of fairness; and while I write these lines, I am hoping and praying that this may indeed be not an empty boast, but an integral part of the American Spirit.
V
Lobster and Mince Pie
IF I were gastronomically inclined I would study New York’s cosmopolitan population and its progress towards Americanization from the standpoint of its restaurants; for the appetite is most loyally patriotic. A man may cease to speak his mother tongue and have forsworn allegiance to Kaiser and to King, but still cling to his ancestral bill of fare.
If I were an absolute monarch and wished my alien people quickly assimilated, I would permit them to speak their native tongue and cling to the faith of their fathers; but I would close all foreign restaurants, and as speedily as possible obliterate from their memory the taste of viands “like mother used to make.”
I fear that it is neither Goethe nor Schiller, nor Bismarck nor Kaiser Wilhelm who has kept the memory of the Fatherland alive in the minds and hearts of many German people in America. Dare I say that possibly much of their patriotism and loyalty is due to the taste of rye bread and sweet butter, Rindsbrust and Pell Cartoffel, not to mention a certain frothy amber fluid?
Be that as it may, when I discovered that the Herr Director and the Frau Directorin were homesick, I took them to a German restaurant to assuage their pangs; just as if, did I detect the same symptoms in an American whom I wished to make thoroughly at home in a foreign country, I would take him where a meal could be properly concluded with apple pie and cheese or ice-cream.
The restaurant I selected lent itself particularly well to my purpose, for everything was imported, from the Bavarian architecture to the Frankfurter sausages. The menu card was adorned by illuminated, medieval lettering, and on the smoked rafters were painted pious and impious verses, which gave the room a literary atmosphere.
It was as crowded and full of tobacco smoke and the odors of savory meats as the most loyal German could desire, and my guests were thoroughly at home. They ate their food happily, praised it discriminatingly, and studied the familiar environment carefully. As usual, certain things were lacking; for the Herr Director is a keen critic and never accepts anything as perfect.
I agreed with him that the orchestra was too noisy and on the whole superfluous, and that the native American dining there could be easily recognized by the indifference with which he ate. We heard no loud complaining, and little or no quarrelling with the waiters. The food was accepted in a humble sort of way whether it was satisfactory or not; bills were paid, tips were given in the spirit of meekness, and accepted in the opposite way, and the guests left without any ceremony except that of paying their toll to the keepers of their hats and coats, a form of extortion quite unparallelled abroad.