THE Hôtel Crillon, where I had gone at once on reaching Paris, became, shortly after, the stopping place of many of the British statesmen whose presence was necessary in the French capital. I saw in his favourite corner in the diningroom the leonine head of Lloyd George, and about him in earnest conversation his conferees. Early in my stay I also met there Lord Murray of Elibank, with whom I became most pleasantly acquainted. He had come over on a sad mission, that of finding, if possible, the last resting place of his young son, who early in the struggle had given up his life in the cause for which so many other of his brave young compatriots made the supreme sacrifice. But in such affliction, this father was only one of the many who, during those days, came to Paris upon similar sad errands.

Later still came Colonel House, the silent and sagacious friend of President Wilson, of whom a newspaper reporter, being disappointed on one occasion with the result of an interview, exclaimed, "Beside Colonel House, the Sphinx is like a chattering old maid at a pink tea." To have kept tab upon all who, in those early days, were admitted to his rooms might have furnished an index, like the proverbial straw, to know which way the wind was blowing. The genial manager of the hotel looked upon me as a sort of harbinger of that American patronage which came to his hostelry in such volume later in the war.

One of the impressions which had most vividly lingered in my mind, from former experience in this gay French capital, was that the pedestrian had little business on the thoroughfares of that city, so little were his rights respected by the cabman. Such impressions now demanded a revision. The presence of few passers-by and the dearth of vehicles upon the once thronged streets might well have convinced a stranger that the entire population had gone away on a holiday.

To add to this Sunday-like appearance in the business quarter of the city, I observed that the blinds were often drawn tightly down over the big store windows. In many such instances, one had but to look at the sign above to learn the reason. They bore the names of German firms which, for many years preceding the war, had done a profitable business in Paris. The members of some of these were lucky enough to be able to depart hastily for the Fatherland during the hours immediately preceding the formal declaration of war; others less fortunate were already spending their days in some of the civilian interné camps, there to stay till the end of the hostilities. During a period of more than two years thereafter, it became a part of my accepted duty to look after the interests of this latter class, as I shall relate in another chapter.(1)

At the end of our first week in Paris, my young son, during one of our walks, turning to me said, "Dad, I have not seen a young man anywhere. What has become of them?" His observation was all too true. Within a brief period of one month, all those capable of bearing arms had hurried away to the defence of their country. Morning after morning I observed, with mingled feelings of admiration and sadness, a group of boys lacking many months of being out of their teens, undergoing military training in the wood just off avenue Gabriel, near my hotel. On the other side of the Champs-Elysées a similar scene could be witnessed. An officer in charge was giving them their first instruction in war. Bright-faced rollicking boys they were, full of animation and good fellowship. At the end of a few weeks the personnel of these groups was completely changed and other boys were there to take their places. Each succeeding group went through the same manoeuvres. How often I wondered during the following months as to what Fate had dealt out to these splendid young boys of France---men as yet only in the making.

The great metropolis had indeed suddenly become a city of women. There was scarcely a vocation which was not all but pre-empted by them, even to the most common kind of heavy, manual labour. By them, too, was borne, during all the months to follow, an inconceivably heavy burden of sorrow. A pathetic sight, not uncommonly witnessed by me, was that of weeping women, who, standing in the doorways of their little shops, or in the centre of a group of sympathizing friends, had just received news of the death of loved ones at the front. And as the war continued I was witness to such scenes in every portion of France. Deepest mourning everywhere characterized their dress.

In the presence of the overshadowing peril which menaced the nation, soon nothing became strange or seemed unusual: the human heart can receive but so much emotion, whether joy or sorrow. Except for the constant sense of depression which came with the uncertainty of each day's news from the front, there was a surprising degree of normality among the people who remained in Paris. Though necessarily modified in many ways by the condition of a war whose battle-line was for four years less than fifty miles away, the daily routine of life was maintained. In those early days of trial, the open doors of the churches furnished an ingress for many an aching heart. Here within these sanctuaries alone was to be found that solace which not only the power of faith itself could give, but which the presence of others kneeling beside them, likewise sorely afflicted, could afford. Misery sought company. Though the two American churches, on account of the thinning out of my compatriots, were less frequented, they still furnished centres from which radiated an atmosphere of helpfulness and good cheer for those who so sorely needed them.

My own church was that of the rue de Berri. Here, during the first critical years of the war, Doctor Caspar W. Hiatt, as Pastor, proved himself a tower of strength. He was a native of Cleveland, and had preached in our own church at Elyria. The rue de Berri congregation made up in faithfulness what it lacked in numbers, and its membership played no small part in the organized efforts in which all Americans contributed so much of their energy and means. After our own entrance into the war, under the pastorate of Dr. Chauncey Goodrich, beloved of his congregation, I saw every available seat of the church occupied Sunday after Sunday by American boys in khaki.

On the first Sunday after my arrival, accompanied by Mr. Whitney Warren, who spent much of his time in Paris, I visited the church of St. Sulpice, where Widor presided at the organ. Mr. Warren, knowing well this distinguished musician, wished me to meet him. In a manner most polite and affable, I was invited to take a seat by him at the great organ, high above the worshippers. On that very day and hour when its sweet tones were filling the vaulted structure with their inspiring music, the momentous decision of the Marne was being fought by the opposing armies of approximately two million men so near to Paris that in a quiet moment the sound of the cannon could be distinctly heard. But during the entire war, such strange contrarieties seemed to be rather the normal condition of things than otherwise.

Though outwardly there was a certain calm preserved among the people, this had not prevented the greatest precautions from being taken against the consequences of what would assuredly happen if the Germans succeeded in entering the city. The great banks were not the only institutions which had removed their treasures to distant points of safety. There were other treasures in Paris more precious than gold.

Until a few weeks before, the roof of the Palace of the Louvre had sheltered the most famous collection of art in the world. Mindful of the lessons taught by the invading conquerors of other times, those responsible for the safety of this treasure must have viewed with the greatest alarm the oncoming rush of the German armies. If my friend Whitney Warren, to whom I have just alluded, was fond of music, he was by profession a devotee of art. From the galleries of the Louvre he drew his inspiration. Nothing would do but that I must give my consent to be formally received by the officials of that institution. My intercession as the representative of a powerful neutral might, in an emergency, save it from bombardment.

The hour of my visit having been arranged, I was received in the courtyard of the Louvre with much politeness and no little ceremony by a body of cultured men not less than twenty in number, to whose guardianship these treasures had been committed. Always of greatest interest to the visitor, the scenes before me as I entered were made doubly so now. Thousands of bags of sand or earth had been piled in front of all the windows. Wooden frames or fences had been built around the immovable treasures and filled with earth. The two main doors were piled about fifteen feet high with sacks of earth, The Venus of Milo, the Monna Lisa, and a few other of the most valuable of the sculptures and pictures, had been removed to cities further from the enemy lines, while many had been taken down to vaults where there were no windows. Great bare places here and there on the walls, where once famous paintings had hung, gave a feeling of depression, a sense of some impending loss that could never be replaced.

Within a month after the declaration of war, more than one million Parisians had left the city---that is, one out of every three inhabitants had already gone to other points in France. Many thousands of them did not return until the close of the war. At the Hôtel Crillon, the manager informed me that every patron had left his place. In fact, for a time I found it much more convenient to dine at the Restaurant Larue, just across from the Madeleine, the staff of domestics at the hotel, called to the front, having dwindled to such a number as to cause serious doubts as to its ability to remain open for business.

It was while taking lunch at this restaurant a few days after my arrival that I first met, by chance, M. Denys Cochin. Like myself, he had found the normal way of living quite out of the question. This gentleman, for many years a distinguished member of the Chamber of Deputies, and afterwards a Cabinet Minister, being told that the new American Ambassador was in the room, came over to my table and, in a most cordial manner, introduced himself. He was remaining for a time, in Paris before joining his Parliamentary colleagues at Bordeaux. Our acquaintance, begun that day under such unusual conditions, ripened into a warm friendship. Later in the war, when he became Minister of the Blockade in the Briand Cabinet,(2) I had important conferences with him upon subjects in which my Government was especially interested. He is a man of great wealth, and an ardent Catholic.

Upon his entrance into the Cabinet in 1915 he told me of an incident which well illustrates the bond of union which, in the face of a common danger to the country, had so completely obliterated all factions in France, whether of a political or a religious character. Perhaps one of the most uncompromising anti-clericals in French public life had been M. Emile Combes.(3) A student of modern European history must ever associate his name with the anti-clerical activities begun in the Ministry of Waldeck-Rousseau. When the Viviani War Cabinet had gone out of power and M. Briand had been asked to form a new one, M. Combes was sounded as to his willingness to accept the appointment as one of the Ministers of State. He replied by saying: "I will accept such a position in your Cabinet only upon the condition that M. Cochin likewise consents to be a member."

Upon his return late in 1915 from Athens, where he had been sent on an important mission, M. Cochin told me of an interesting episode bearing on the war, brought out on the occasion of a dinner given to him by King Constantine and Queen Sophia, the sister of Emperor William. With great earnestness and show of feeling, the Queen told him that it was her uncle, the late King Edward, who had caused the war,(4) His conduct, she said, toward Germany long before its beginning had been such as greatly to embitter the relations between the two countries. This statement revealed the extent of her prejudices.

Many months after this acquaintance with M. Cochin, it became my unhappy duty to write to him a letter expressing my deep sympathy over the loss of a second son in battle, both falling in the cause of their country.(5) Acknowledging my message, after having feelingly thanked me for my sympathy, he wrote: " My son has sacrificed his life, dear to his parents, precious to all those who knew him. May so much heroism---and so many tears---hasten the triumph of the most just of causes." A Spartan father!

To return to the period immediately following my arrival in Paris. I continued indefatigably my endeavour to reach as complete an understanding as possible of the people among whom I had come, taking long walks in all quarters of the capital. I also sought to extend my knowledge of provincial France, and I prolonged one trip I had taken to Havre as far as England, a country which I particularly wished to show to my son.

During those first weeks in Paris, I experienced a feeling as if, from the very need for mutual protection and counsel, the barriers of social formalities had been swept away. Those who remained in the city seemed to have a common appreciation of what German occupation would mean. But never was there a more complete abandonment of concern for mere self than was shown by everyone. While, naturally, the residents in Paris of neutral nationality had less of personal concern in such a fate, yet it is doubtful if a thought of this character occurred to many of them. This was particularly true of the Americans. To them, in this her hour of peril, because of the very privileges and associations which they had so long enjoyed, it seemed as though the menace to Paris were a personal one. The importance of our country gave all its citizens abroad such prestige as to invite their confidence and create appeals for sympathy and protection. This was true throughout France, destined to become the battleground of the war. The enemy Powers had early placed their interests in the care of the American Government. This fact, very naturally, threw about every American citizen a mantle of protection, except from an actual bombardment of the city.

It was not surprising that my first acquaintances were largely among the American residents of Paris. Their number was now very much reduced and confined to those who, for various reasons, chiefly of business or health, had chosen to remain, and, with Mr. Britling, set about "seeing it through." Frequent gatherings, characterized by great earnestness of purpose, were held in these first days of danger by members of the American colony. The meetings had mainly for their object the affording of relief to the distressed. The numbers of these were rapidly increasing, as the needs of hospital work and the caring for refugees from Belgium and the invaded portions of France were brought to the very doors of Paris. It will be one of the lasting glories of France that, though distressed and harassed herself on a great battle front, compelled to defend every foot of her soil against a powerful and persistent enemy, she nevertheless became the asylum, not only for the fleeing refugees of smaller countries, but even for their Governments and Sovereigns as well---a compassionate Niobe of Allied nations in whose bosom their children, in danger and distress, sought solace.

From the initiative of these first meetings, the foundations of many relief organizations were laid. Their humanitarian work will ever endure as one of the most remarkable phases of a remarkable war. While it is true that many of these were later absorbed by the American Red Cross, yet the spirit of doing good and alleviating suffering among their fellow-men had been born, and was to continue to grow, no matter under what particular name its activities were to be exerted. In subsequent pages something of the character of this work, as well as of its scope and influence, will be described. But in passing, it is well to note that it had its inception at the time the danger was nearest. There was no faltering and no turning back in effort.

During the years which followed, I was enabled to look back to these meetings, at which the best representatives of the American colony were frequently gathered, as the time at which I had first formed some of my most pleasant acquaintances. Although I had not as yet assumed charge of my post, and, therefore, my presence did not partake of an official character, yet I was always most cordially welcomed. A majority of those who came had been residents of Paris for many years, and not only their familiarity with the language, but their acquaintance with Government officials, gave to their work the greatest efficiency. Bankers, professional men and business men predominated in this circle of earnest-minded men---usually comprising a score or more in number at a session. The names of Herman Harjes, as President, Judge Walter Berry, Charles Carroll, Henry Cachard, Doctor S. N. Watson, George Munroe, Herbert Howland, James Barbour, James Hazen Hyde, Ridgway Knight, J. Mark Baldwin, Dr. Lines, Dr. Magnin and others will ever be associated with the direction of those early endeavours. Back of them, as indeed back of every helpful movement having the accomplishment of good as its object) were the wise counsel and open purse of Edward Tuck, an American whose great wealth and long residence abroad never impaired his patriotic love for his native country.

As a young man, Mr. Tuck had had an interesting experience in the consular service at Paris, under the administration of Lincoln and during the missions of William L. Dayton and John Bigelow as American Ministers to France. Associated with him in official work was John Hay, who for a brief time was Chargé d'Affaires of the American Legation.

Among my most enjoyable experiences during my residence in Paris were the occasional week-end visits which, upon invitation from Mr. and Mrs. Tuck, I made to their beautiful château, "Vert-Mont," distant some twenty or more kilometres from Paris, on the road to St. Germain. Originally a part of Napoleon's estate of Malmaison,(6) and just across from the road in which is located the château where Empress Josephine lived, the grounds in all their charm and beauty of design were a veritable Elysium. From my front windows in the suite of rooms always assigned to members of my family, or to me, I could look across the wooded valley extending over beyond the winding Seine to the spires of the churches of St. Germain. And then, stretching far to the north, I could see nearly the entire length of the beautiful elevated promenade which skirts its famous wooded park. To the south, over the tops of the forests in the distance, was an equally charming scene featured in its centre by the ruins of the lofty arches of the aqueduct built in the time of Louis XIV for the purpose of supplying water to Versailles. Such brief sojourns amid such an entrancing environment afforded a most welcome respite and diversion from my labours at the Chancery.

The energy displayed in carrying out the plans formulated for the varied kinds of relief work undertaken was typically American. Its directness was prophetic of not only the work of the Red Cross, but of the great part which we were finally to play in the war itself. Quite as much with a desire to show my goodwill to my compatriots as to be of all possible service in the great humanitarian work which they had inaugurated, I continued to attend their meetings until the American Red Cross had been fully organized and had taken over their many forms of relief. Complete written reports of the work accomplished were furnished me by the organization. Of these it was my pleasure from time to time to submit a summary to Washington, with personal comments thereon. At the very inception of this organization, the State Department gave it semi-official recognition on the condition that its activities should be under the general supervision of the American Ambassador. It became, in deed, as it was in name, the American Relief Clearing House.

UNFORTUNATELY, even before entering upon my official duties, I had to engage in another task which was not so agreeable. I must secure an Embassy residence. Just before I had left Washington, Secretary Bryan had enjoined upon me the desirability of early securing such a residence. Alas it was a request more easily made than complied with. Soon after my arrival in Paris, I learned that it would be impossible to secure the residence of my three predecessors,(1) who had successively occupied it for six years. It was, in fact, to be turned over to the American Relief Clearing House as a headquarters for their work.

In reporting to the Secretary of State upon the situation, I wrote: "It was indeed fortunate that, with the exception of my eldest son, none of the members of my family accompanied me to Paris, as at first sight it seemed quite impossible for me to get anything like a suitable place for an Embassy. Only the fact that the very unusual conditions brought on by the war had caused many people of wealth to leave the city enabled me finally to be successful in my search. In the meantime, I had actually looked at more than forty residences, both inside and out, engaging the services of several real estate agents to help me in the quest."

My choice was arrived at by a process of elimination, until there remained but four suitable residences from which to select. One of these was the beautiful home of Madame Francis de Croisset, located on the Place des Etats-Unis. This later became the residence of President and Mrs. Wilson upon their return to the Peace Conference; a mansion with a stately staircase and a grand salon of beautiful design and splendid proportions. Up this staircase trod the men who made history at the Paris Conference, Though the Hôtel Crillon was the stopping-place for the members of the American Commission with its numerous advisers, yet it was under this roof that the three big men of the Conference---Clemenceau, Lloyd George and President Wilson---had their rendezvous.

I was sentimentally inclined to look with favour upon this location. The charming little park itself had been named in honour of the United States from the fact that nearly forty years before the Hon. Levi P. Morton, then United States Minister to France, had located his Legation facing it. Walking under the shade of its handsome trees, their high tops filled with the song birds of earliest Spring, I sometimes found a brief respite from my cares and duties at the Chancery but a block away.

The hope of securing one of the other residences, in this process of elimination, was very hard for me to abandon. Of attractive appearance and of recent construction, it was in a number of respects admirably adapted for the purpose. But the lady who owned it, a Belgian Countess---though very desirous of renting it to the American Ambassador---yet insisted on reserving her own private suite of rooms where she might continue to reside at her pleasure. I gained nothing by the explanation that, aside from being unable so to limit the accommodation required for a family of five children, with a retinue of servants, I could not well share with her the use of the ascenseur, the service of the concierge, etc. She was unyielding, and I had to dismiss that prospect from my mind. I could not blame her, poor lady, for she had had the sad experience, like so many others, of having her splendid property in Belgium levelled to the ground by the Germans. She now wished to live under her own roof.

If it had been a matter of mere personal comfort to consider, without reference to the official character which such a residence must necessarily have, and without concern for the varied demands which, as such, it would be called upon to satisfy, the problem would have been simpler. Some of the places inspected had gardens, others had not; some were too small, others lacked reception rooms of adequate size for Embassy purposes. But the places shown me differed little more in variety than did the character of their proprietors. One was a rich Brazilian, the value of whose securities at home the war had greatly imperilled. He must leave Paris at once. His new house, exquisitely furnished and decorated, was offered to me at a very low price; but it was only half large enough, and no other advantages could atone for such a need.

In accomplishing this unenviable task of finding a home, I shall always gratefully remember the kindness of the late Mrs. Thackara, wife of Mr. Alexander M. Thackara,(2) our most efficient Consul-General at Paris. As Mrs. Sharp had not yet arrived, I availed myself of the knowledge and good judgment of Mrs. Thackara, who, in several instances, accompanied me to the residences which I inspected. It was always a deep personal regret to me that her untimely death prevented her from ever being a guest at a home which she had so generously sought to help me secure. The daughter of General William T. Sherman, and possessing his talents and simplicity of manner, she was beloved by everybody who knew her. Notwithstanding the time and energy which she spent in war relief work---particularly devoted to the cause of Serbia(3)---there still seemed always time left for serving her friends. She gave a true example of a religion put into practice in her everyday doings.

Envious visions came to my mind when I thought of the superb garden of the Austrian Embassy which had been placed under my protecting care by that Government. The German Embassy, likewise then under my charge, is a stately mansion of historic interest; while the homes of my Russian and Italian colleagues are also places of great dignity. All are owned and maintained by their Governments.

The British Embassy is in a class by itself. The others which I have mentioned are across the Seine, while this one, with its beautiful garden extending clear through from the Faubourg St. Honoré to the wooded avenue Gabriel, is near the Elysée Palace, the residence of the President of the Republic. An interesting story was told me by the late Lord Bertie of Thame,(4) then British Ambassador, on the occasion of my first Christmas Day in Paris. He made a call in return for one which I had made on him at the time of presenting my letter of credence in Bordeaux. Sitting at my fireside that afternoon in the large salon of my apartments at the Hôtel Crillon, my distinguished colleague, then the Dean of the diplomatic corps---which distinction, upon his resignation later, was to come to me---unbent during that hour the rather severe dignity for which he was noted, notwithstanding his propensity for telling humorous stories. Behind him he had fifty years of diplomatic service to his credit.

After telling me that his son could boast of the fact that his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather had been Ambassadors to France,(5) he informed me that, just a hundred years before, the British Government had acquired from the sister of Napoleon, Princess Pauline Borghese, for Embassy purposes,(6) the residence which he then occupied. Owing to the pressing needs of the Princess, it was purchased by the Duke of Wellington for the sum of £26,500. Even at that low price, Lord Bertie told me that his Government, impoverished by the country's long years of war, required a year in which to complete its payment.

The extent of this bargain may be realized when it is stated that the gold plate alone, which went with the house, was worth more than the entire price paid. I have seen there single articles of furniture of the Napoleonic period, which were included in the sale, that had in themselves a princely value. The decorations and rare tapestries in the room of the Princess, just as she left it, are still pointed out to guests at the British Embassy. The property, for which an equivalent of about $130,000 was paid a hundred years ago, would now probably be worth twenty times that amount. It has been the home of every British Ambassador from that time down to the present. In addition to his residence, he also receives from his Government a salary three times greater than that paid to the American Ambassador at Paris.

Within a period of thirty years there have been nine different residences for the American diplomatic representatives to France. These have been widely located in different parts of the city, with varying degrees of fitness for the purpose. A new Ambassador was fortunate indeed if he could step into the house which had been occupied by his predecessor. In most cases he simply had to take what he could find in the market. In my own case, what seemed to be a misfortune turned out to be a veritable boon.

After my patience had been nearly exhausted in the search for a suitable home, the beautiful modern residence of M. Jean Bartholoni on Avenue d'Eylau,(7) carrying with it its complement of rare objects of art and exquisite furnishings, was offered to me at a price made moderate by the exigencies of war. With its beautiful garden, and its entire adaptability for the purposes of an Embassy residence, it became, during the following four years, an open house for many Americans. They came either for hospitality, or for the discussion with Mrs. Sharp of a great variety of relief projects. Its library---our Red Room---was the scene of a number of notable conferences growing out of America's entrance into the war. Indeed, I recall the names of not more than one or two, among those who frequently guided the destinies of the Allied cause, whom I did not have at one time or another as a guest or caller in this room. What reflections of these world figures were there cast from the great mirror above the fireplace! Before it had passed Presidents, Premiers, Princes, Diplomats, Generals, and those prominent in civil life. Its very location in a secluded corner of the Embassy, overlooking the garden, coupled with the need of secrecy, had invited within its walls those confidences which could never be revealed except at the sacrifice of good faith.

Upon resigning my mission, I was able to secure the Embassy for the Hon. Hugh C. Wallace,(8) my friend and successor, who is making such a creditable record in his high position.

A distinguished American, who had been asked to accept the head of a very important diplomatic mission abroad, had known me well in years past, and came to Paris to get my advice before making his decision. He desired to know at first hand approximately what it would cost him to maintain such a position. Sitting in my library that evening, he gave me with great frankness an outline of his financial condition. From his story it was plainly not a question at all as to whether he could maintain his mission within his income, adding to it his salary, but rather how much of his principal he would be called upon to sacrifice. And yet, before me was a man, by native ability, character, and attainments highly qualified for the position which had been offered him, who must first prudently figure out whether his financial means would enable him to accept it without imperilling his modest fortune. To the credit of my American colleagues in Europe, all of whom at one time or another I met in Paris during my mission, I may say that there was not one of whom I had heard the slightest criticism as to his extravagance of living or un-Americanism of manner.

I could tell the same story of our consuls in France. Capable, energetic, and of long experience, these faithful officials find it a difficult matter to make both ends meet on the salaries which they receive from our Government. Though they are required to be men of unusual capacity, and are called upon to discharge duties of the highest importance in furthering our commerce abroad, there is not one of them that could not at home earn and receive from two to three times the salary which attaches to his office. Only fidelity to duty on the part of most of these men keeps them from resigning their positions.

A touch of human interest attaches to a pathetic letter which I received one day from the aged widow of one of the responsible clerks---in fact the only clerk for many years---of the Embassy in Paris, shortly after his death. In her letter she wrote: " I called at the Embassy some time ago and heard with great regret that you were ill. Since then, I have been up again thinking I should surely see you and be able to tell you how very kind the Chamber of Commerce are to me. They intend allowing me three hundred francs a month for nine years---it is so good of them to have taken so much trouble about me, and you must know how very grateful I am to them and also to you for all your great goodness to my husband and myself." This message came from the widow of one who for more than thirty-five years had received from our Government an annual salary of but twelve hundred dollars. His chief concern when I called to see him during his last illness, which he bore so patiently, was lest his work at the office might suffer from his absence.

A more progressive---a more just, even if not generous---policy must be obtained. From having an unusual opportunity also to know of the pecuniary sacrifices which all those of lower rank in our diplomatic service---consuls, secretaries, and clerks---are called upon to make through grossly inadequate compensation, this duty of correcting the inequalities to which I have referred---and I now speak only of salary compensation---should not stop at the top. I am sure that with such a reform inaugurated, there would be fewer complaints, no matter how ill-founded, that there are too many snobs in our diplomatic service---men who only by reason of the possession of large means could aspire to such places.(9)

I have before mentioned the fact that coincident with my arrival in Paris, the third of September, the French Government had left for Bordeaux where the capital of the nation was for a time to be. During succeeding months, opponents of the Government seized upon this action as a cause for criticism. The fact, however, that events turned out in such a way as to make its going unnecessary certainly does not justify such criticism. That there was a real danger of the occupation of Paris by the enemy at the moment of its leaving was unquestioned. What criticism might not have been more justly levelled at the Government, had it not left the capital and the enemy had succeeded in taking it!(10)

In an address made at the hail of the French Geographical Society in January, 1919, interesting details of the situation, and also of the preparation of the Marne by General Joffre, were given by M. Alexandre Millerand,(11) who succeeded M. Messimy as Minister of War when the Viviani Cabinet was partially reformed on August 26, 1914, just before the battle of the Marne. He remained in power for more than a year. It was he who collaborated with General Joffre in the gigantic task of reorganizing the entire French system for military supplies on the scale demanded by new conditions of war, and this not only under the enemy's fire but with a large section of French territory occupied.(12)

I was now to have the unique experience among many others which the war had made so common, of being the first American Ambassador to present his letter of credence to the head of the Government of France at a place other than Paris. The period following my arrival had become one of increasing embarrassment to me. It had been understood, at the time of my departure for France, that I was not to assume immediate charge of the mission,(13) as the exigencies of the unusual situation seemed to dictate a deviation from the custom of the outgoing representative leaving either before or upon the arrival of his successor. But the time had now come when the equivocal position in which circumstances had placed me must end.

The delay in taking over the mission, however, had not been without its compensations; I had been enabled to acquaint myself thoroughly with a many-angled situation. From the day of the assumption of my duties, this knowledge stood me in good stead. In his first letter to me, upon my taking over the mission, President Wilson expressed satisfaction at the way in which I had behaved "in very trying circumstances "---to use his language---expressing at the same time his greatest confidence in my success. To the last day of my stewardship of the high office to which he had appointed me, that confidence was so often manifested toward me as to make it a veritable tower of strength in times when assurance of such support was most needed. Indeed, it was that kind of support and loyalty, I take it, which General Pershing, long after the great conflict had ended, so feelingly told me the President had always given him in sustaining his acts.

On the night of the first of December, accompanied by my son, I left for Bordeaux, where we arrived on the following morning at a very early hour. Mr. Garrett,(14) Special Agent of the American Embassy, kindly opened his house to us.

As I had made the long journey for the sole purpose of presenting my letter of credence, naturally every other thing connected with my trip became merely incidental. What I should say in my address to the President of the French Republic was a question which, in ordinary times, could have been easily answered. But this was not an ordinary time; it was a time when every word spoken by America's representative would be given the greatest weight, and would be most closely scrutinized. America was the foremost neutral nation of all the Powers. Our Government was not only pledged to neutrality, but had accepted the obligation of looking after the interests of all the Central Powers who had entrusted them to our care. In a most formal manner, it had in fact enjoined the observance of the strictest neutrality on the part of all American citizens at home or abroad.

From the very beginning of the war, official notices proclaiming and enjoining such neutrality had been posted upon our bulletin board at the Chancery; even those who ran might read. And yet more was expected from me than the expression of mere platitudes which, in ordinary times, would create about as much interest as an exchange of observations on the weather. My dilemma was a real one.

The formal instructions issued by the Department of State to all our diplomatic representatives require that the address accompanying the presentation of letters of credence shall be written and spoken in English. A copy of this address must be furnished to the Minister for Foreign Affairs after notice has been received of the granting of an audience, in order that a suitable reply may be prepared. Having complied with this part of the instructions, I arranged an appointment for the ceremony through M. William Martin, Introducteur des Ambassadeurs and Chef du Protocole.(15) It was my initiation into the mysteries of that ceremonial custom to which every diplomatic representative must respectfully bow. I am sure no arbiter of such power wielded his authority in a more gracious and accommodating, but withal effective, manner than did this Minister of the Protocol. His name, as well as his appearance, betoken the fact that he is of English descent, though his ancestry dates more than a century back, to the Napoleonic period.

In the years following this, our first acquaintance, I found in him a veritable Mentor when it came to either arranging social functions at the Embassy or conforming to the seemingly arbitrary, but nevertheless necessary, rules of the Protocol.

In almost every act of official decorum, his opinion was asked as a matter of course; even if a question came up as to the proper placing of any official guests at the Embassy table, his ruling was my law. In the case of elaborate State dinners, where were gathered every sort of high personage, from Kings down to the diplomatic representatives of the most humble Powers, this task, notwithstanding the guidance of certain fixed rules, must have been not without its difficulties. The relation of his office to the Elysée Palace was such as to make it always necessary for me to arrange through him any appointments which I desired to make with the President. It was invariably through this Minister that my fellow Americans were given such audience at my request. The existing rules of the Protocol relating to official precedence were established more than a hundred years ago, at the Congress of Vienna, at a time when elaborate ceremonial custom prevailed in the courts of Europe. The Governments of both France and the United States have not deemed it wise to discard their observance.

It was the good offices of this official, endowed with such authority, that I first called into requisition at Bordeaux. At the appointed hour, early in the morning, a coach and footman drove up with M. Martin to the place where I was stopping, to conduct me to the temporary Executive Offices of the Government which were in the Hôtel de Ville, the City Hall of Bordeaux. Ordinarily, when this ceremony takes place in Paris, it is attended with considerable pomp, the carriage containing the Ambassador being duly escorted by representatives of the French Government and a guard of honour being posted outside to receive him at the Elysée Palace. But in the unusual situation which now surrounded the presentation of my letter of credence, much of this programme was necessarily dispensed with. There was little ceremony beyond passing between the uniformed guards drawn up in line on each side of the walk in front of the building.

Though in America public speakers, even in delivering a more or less official address, do not commonly read from manuscript, yet in France it is quite the contrary. Most Frenchmen read their discourses and very often, if they lecture, do so while sitting at a table before their audience. Speaking from manuscript has manifest advantages for the diplomat. Though it robs him of the inspirational element which comes from his audience, or which is often brought forth from the remarks of preceding speakers or from the very occasion itself, yet there is no chance for a slip of the tongue or for indulging in language which is sometimes more eloquent than discreet in its expression. I not infrequently availed myself of this custom, notwithstanding the limitations to effectiveness. This was particularly true during the period of our neutrality. Whenever this practice was followed, I had the comfortable feeling that on the following morning nothing would appear in the newspapers misconstruing my remarks so as to give them a sensational tinge. Under such conditions the difficulty encountered was not so much to find something to talk about, as to be able by intuition to know what not to say.

Arrived at the Hôtel de Ville, I was ushered into the large room which in normal times may have been used as the Council Chamber of the municipality. A novel experience was before me, but only the unusual place for carrying out such a ceremony must have differentiated it from the many others of like nature in which the President had participated during his term of office. To him the coming of new, and the going of old, Ambassadors and Ministers was not out of the ordinary. Being conducted to the centre of the room, I was presented to the President, who greeted me with a smile and a cordial shake of the hand. The purpose of my address as well as custom prescribed that it should be brief. I said:

Mr. President, in conforming to this ceremonial custom in presenting my letter of credence, I have the great honour and pleasure to convey to the Government of the French Republic the best wishes of the President of the United States of America for its prosperity, and to your Excellency, his high personal regard. Let me assure you that in this expression of goodwill, now ripened by the traditions of more than a century into a lasting friendship and brotherly love, the people of my country most heartily join. From the very character of that affection and the historic events which gave it origin, I am persuaded that it will be as enduring as the life of these two great Nations.

During my sojourn among the French people, I have come to have an added regard for their exemplification of a brave and patriotic citizenship. In expressing the earnest hope that out of the trials of the present hour may come the blessings of a lasting and beneficent Peace, I but voice the prayers of my countrymen.

One of the important duties of my high office being to cultivate the friendly commercial relations which have so long existed between the two Nations, I anticipate from the high-minded statesmen of your official family a most generous and helpful co-operation to that end. I assure your Excellency that it will be my most cherished purpose to do all in my power to advance the prosperity of both Governments.

In presenting to you my letter of credence, may I also have the honour to present to you the letter of recall of my distinguished predecessor, whose departure for America prevented his doing so in person?

The following day, the address was given a hearty commendation by the Press throughout France. My words of friendship and admiration for the qualities of the people of France, particularly as to their bravery and patriotism, were especially noticed. That my remarks also found favour in America was attested by M. Jusserand, French Ambassador at Washington, who wrote saying: "Some private letters which I have received since you assumed your office have shown me that you are making your mark, and that the goodwill of my people towards one whose friendly feelings cannot be doubted will certainly never fail you. Your excellent speech when you handed your credentials had its echo in the United States and had the best effect in both countries."

To my remarks, the President replied with that polish of diction for which he is noted.

Mr. Ambassador, I am very much touched by the sentiments that you have so kindly expressed. I know that you are resolved to follow, in the accomplishment of your high mission, the excellent traditions that your predecessors have established. I have had the most cordial personal relations with the two last, Mr. Bacon and Mr. Herrick, and I have been able to appreciate the great services that they have rendered to the fraternal union of the two Republics.

I know also that you have just faithfully conveyed the sympathies of the President of the United States and the thought of your Nation. I can assure you that the whole of France, for its part, has the greatest admiration for the magnificent American civilization and for the eminent qualities of Mr. Wilson.

I thank you for the wishes that you have expressed for the re-establishment of a lasting and beneficent Peace. If it had depended only upon the French Government, Peace would never have been broken. We have responded to a brutal attack with that patriotism and that bravery to which I am sure you will render homage. We are determined to fulfil to the end the duty which has been imposed upon us. That it may be lasting and beneficent, that it may not be illusory and deceptive, it is necessary that the Peace be guaranteed by an integral reparation of violated rights and be safeguarded against future attacks.

I beg you to receive, Mr. Ambassador, my wishes for the prosperity and grandeur of the United States of America, as well as for the personal happiness of your illustrious President.(16)

If the French newspapers had been favourably impressed with what I had said, they were doubly so in commending the sentiments voiced by the President. His pointed allusion to the determination of France to fulfil the duty to the uttermost which the war had imposed upon her, as well as the reference to the brutality of German aggression, was particularly stressed. While it required more than four years for the consummation of such a purpose, and at a sacrifice in loss of life and waste of material which remains the most appalling known to history, yet those who guided the destiny of the Republic never faltered in their determination to attain that goal.

As I review now the solemnity of that hour, and again read the exchanges of sentiments made that day between the President of the Republic and myself, I am impressed with the consistency with which a mutually friendly relationship was maintained between the two countries throughout the trying times of the war. I was also convinced even in that early day, a conviction expressed in both addresses, that the peace that should finally come out of such a titanic struggle should be lasting, and guaranteed in such a way as to be safe against future attacks.

With the exchange of a few informal words in which I expressed my pleasure at meeting President Poincaré and being privileged to represent my Government in such a country as France, the ceremony was over.

It was on this mission to Bordeaux that for the first time I met M. Théophile Delcassé, Minister for Foreign Affairs, a short, quick, nervous, brilliant man, well in the middle age of life, courteous by natural impulse. His kindness to me and sympathy with everything American, all through his service in the Viviani Ministry of that period, I shall always remember in grateful appreciation. A man also who, like the great host of his compatriots, gave an only son to the cause of his country.(17)

It was at a luncheon given on this occasion in my honour by M. Delcassé that I also first met my diplomatic colleagues of the British, Russian, and Japanese Embassies, acquaintances which ripened into warm regard during the following months of my close association with them.

My brief sojourn in Bordeaux enabled me to see how strongly welded had become the patriotic bonds, drawing so closely together every section of France for the mighty struggle before her. On the day of my departure an occasion presented itself for seeing a ceremony of unusual interest. Mrs. Garrett had asked me to accompany her to an organ recital which was to be given at the Cathedral for the benefit of Belgian refugees. The programme was preceded by an eloquent appeal to the great throng that had gathered, evoking not alone their patriotism for country, but their sympathy for these unfortunates.

From my contact with the people in the various cities in the other departments of France, I had already been prepared for the fervour which I saw so feelingly manifested on this occasion. While there might be jealousies born of commercial rivalries and a lack of homogeneity in certain things, when it came to the call to patriotic duty, there was but one common mind---one united sentiment. It is such pictures as I saw there that day, to be repeated so often in the long years of travail to follow, that must have given to even a sojourner an exalted conception of the spirit which possessed all France.

That night, December 4, I left for Paris and on the following day began my official duties as Ambassador, which I did not lay down until the fourteenth day of April, 1919.

The decision was taken shortly after by the Cabinet to return to Paris on December 9. I understand there had even been strong opposition from several members who considered the change at this time unadvisable for military reasons. This will serve to show what the situation still was three months after the decision for the Government to leave Paris had been reached.

ONE of my most pressing duties was that of looking after the prisoners from those countries in conflict with the Allied Powers. In addition to the prisoners of war there was no inconsiderable number of civilian internés, enemy subjects residing in France who had been sent as rapidly as possible to concentration camps. All through the years 1915 and 1916 and the early part of 1917, that is, until our own entrance into the war, work in this connection greatly increased.

The full measure of embarrassment to an American Ambassador to France, under such circumstances, may be understood if one reflects that he was charged with maintaining the role of strict neutrality imposed by his Government in a country bleeding at every pore for the heroic defence of its soil, while looking after the welfare and comfort of the very enemies against whom it was fighting! Added to this, he was obliged to promote friendly relations with the Government to which he was accredited. At the very outset, I would pay a deserved tribute to the French Government, in saying that this task was greatly helped by the tolerant and fair-minded spirit with which it recognized the nature of that embarrassment.

This sentiment received concrete expression on one occasion when, visiting one of the officials at the head of the Bureau dealing with the administration of prison camps, I remarked that the registering of complaints of German prisoners by no means implied criticism by the American Embassy; that having accepted the charge of looking after the interests of these men, the Embassy must undertake to fulfil that trust in a humane and honourable manner. He replied:

"The situation is perfectly understood, and the French Government will welcome any information that it may receive upon the conduct of these camps. It only wishes that French prisoners in Germany might receive the same consideration which you have shown to those placed under your protection."

The first winter with all its rigours was now upon us. Already complaints had come from the German Government that the prisoners, particularly in the western portions of France, were scantily clothed, and provision for heating their sleeping quarters must be quickly provided.

Many questions, involving the rules and conduct of warfare, were to be considered. I may mention, as one instance from the French point of view, a statement communicated to me in December, 1914, by the Minister for Foreign Affairs to the effect that since, in spite of protests which had been made, French officer prisoners were not as well paid as German officers in France, the pay rate in France would be lowered until Germany reciprocated. Too often, complaints were used for the purpose of stimulating the hatred of the enemy for the French. They furnished, in Germany, the basis for a bitter propaganda which was spread broadcast, in the form of editorials and cartoons. Threats of retaliation for abuses charged were the common, as well as constant, method used in seeking to correct them.(1)

Frequent personal visits, by men well qualified for the purpose, formed one of the most important features of the work of properly caring for the prisoners. In the aggregate, several hundred inspection trips were made, the personnel being composed in the main of members of the Embassy Staff.

Our Government at Washington, with an excusable lack of appreciation of the demands which must eventually arise in so many ways, had early directed that no visits should be made to these camps by representatives of the Embassy; nor should reports of their conditions be given publicity. This latter inhibition was doubtless caused by certain annoying circumstances which had followed the publication of such accounts in another country. The Department very quickly realized what embarrassing consequences would result if this were repeated.

The work of relief became, however, so urgent that early in 1915 I cabled the Department to the effect that, in my judgment, the obligation which we had accepted could not be fulfilled unless authority were given me to inaugurate a system involving personal visits to these camps wherever and whenever the necessity seemed to exist. As a result of these representations, the Department very promptly directed that such visits should be made as occasion demanded. I at once gathered about me in my office at the Chancery a rather hastily improvised group of men, all Americans, to undertake this task.

Some of my volunteer helpers generously offered their automobiles as well as their services. To them I entrusted the mission of making the first personal inspection of the camps. Dividing those present into pairs, in order that the territory might be covered as quickly as possible, I dispatched them simultaneously in different directions, requesting them to visit as many points as was feasible during the next ten days. Realizing as I did the delicacy of the task which could easily be performed in a wrong way, I impressed upon those gathered about me, that day, the urgent need of conducting their investigation in such a manner that, while being thorough and impartial, they should yet avoid giving offence to French officials in charge of the camps. They were to submit to the Embassy written reports of conditions as they found them; particularly they should inquire into the more urgent needs of the prisoners, civilian as well as military. Special attention was first to be given to the complaints which had been made by the German Government; there were few if any Austrian prisoners of war in France.

Organization was the first thing needed. To this end I asked John W. Garrett, later our Minister at The Hague, to direct under my general supervision a part of this work. Then, by direction of the State Department and to help in the same task, came H. Percival Dodge,(2) later Minister to Serbia, and John Gardner Coolidge,(3) also of previous diplomatic experience ; subsequently Mr. Coolidge rendered valuable service at Washington in the State Department. All these gentlemen performed most excellent service, and I recall with satisfaction and pleasure our association. Their wives, coming to Paris with them, were conspicuous in relief work of one kind or another in the common effort to do good where it was so constantly needed. They greatly endeared themselves to Mrs. Sharp and charmingly assisted her at many Embassy functions.

The very exigencies of such a task, so diversified in character, developed with time into an elaborate system of administration. The primary consideration involved hygienic conditions of the camps, questions of sufficient food supply and proper housing accommodation. There were, of course, other questions growing out of camp life, such as the opportunity for proper exercise, bathing facilities, and the rigour of work which the military prisoners were required to do. All these conditions naturally varied considerably with the location of the camp and the kind of buildings used. I soon found out also that the temperamental make-up of the official in charge had much to do with the kind of treatment meted out to the prisoners ; fortunately there were comparatively few of these officials who were not most considerate in the discharge of their duties.

With the progress of the war, the military prison camps increased to approximately one hundred in number. They were located all the way from Havre across France to Corsica and even in northern Algeria. The number of prisoners in each varied from several hundred to more than a thousand. Of the civilian interné camps, there were about a score. From the military prison camps were sent out "detachments" of prisoners, employed in various kinds of manual labour, from farming and road-building to work in quarries and forests, on railroads, and even in industrial plants. The "detachment" might be large or small, varying from five to five hundred or more, according to the nature of the work assigned to it. In some instances their bases of operation were located many miles from the main camp or "dépôt." When on trips of personal inspection of camp conditions, in riding through the country, I not infrequently saw the military prisoners engaged in substantially all occupations. But the reader may well imagine my surprise when, in riding through the rural districts along the picturesque highway from Poitiers to Châteauroux, I saw a number of German prisoners lazily lying on the lawn in front of the residence of a farmer whose fields they were helping to cultivate. To all outward appearances, they might have been resting after the noon-day meal at their far-off homes in Germany.

Complaints constantly coming in from the Governments of the Central Powers were given the promptest attention. I made it a practice to acquaint myself with their general tenor; in fact, a certain portion of my time was regularly devoted to consultation with those at the head of the different divisions of this labour. Where abuses were found they were reported to the French Government. Quite invariably, the conditions were improved if the facts were considered sufficient.

In order that I might be better informed as to actual conditions existing in the camps, I personally made a number of trips to the larger ones. As the times of my visits covered different seasons of the year, I was in a position to form a fairly adequate conception of the manner in which the prisoners were being cared for. On several occasions, such journeys also had for their object the inspection of hospitals where German patients were confined. This was particularly true of Lyons, where a sort of clearing house had been established for the exchange of invalided German prisoners in France against French prisoners in Germany. Trainload for trainload was the system adopted for returning these unfortunates of both countries to their homes via Switzerland.

This was one of the few real accomplishments in humanizing the hard conditions of war. In an atmosphere where mutual distrusts characterized every act of the conflicting forces one need not invoke the names of Lyttelton of Eton(4) and Lord Lansdowne as witnesses---the word "camouflage" was shouted back at every overture looking to an agreement upon any question between them. Under such conditions, the success of the negotiations carried on in Holland between representatives of the British and the German Governments, providing for the exchange of officer prisoners certainly savoured of the miraculous. I recall reading in the London Press how Lord Newton, who had acted in such negotiations for the British Government, had made his report before the House of Lords, paying the highest tribute to the manner in which both sides had carried on the negotiations, and the scrupulous honour with which that agreement had been observed.

On the occasion of my first trip of inspection at Lyons I witnessed an incongruous sight---one of many vagaries of the war. On the brow of one of the high and picturesque elevations overlooking the city was located one of its two prison hospitals. A more ideal spot for the purpose could hardly have been chosen. Here the pure air from the mountains beyond came down through the valley of the Rhône. Plenty of breathing space was all about. The welcome shade of the great trees spread over the grounds; and with a view at times commanding the Alps, and on clear days even the snowy crest of Mont Blanc, the beholder was made to feel that even prison hospitals had their attenuations.

As I went through the different wards of the hospital, studying with much interest the faces of the patients that I might know something of the seriousness of their illness, I was very favourably impressed with the care given to them. Here and there were those whose robust appearance clearly foretold their recovery. I saw others whose pallid and sunken cheeks indicated that Germans too were not immune from the ravages of tuberculosis, which afflicted so many of the brave soldiers of France.

I was next invited to witness, near by, the humane provisions made for their own wounded heroes---réformés--- released from the hospitals, were so crippled as to be no longer of service at the front. Most of them had suffered the loss of a limb. In a few cases both legs were gone. But these poor fellows were still young and must not be left as objects of charity.

In this great work which France, so generously helped by America, had undertaken, I would here bear witness to the thoroughness of the methods---so characteristically French---used at the institution which I visited that day. Those who were able to handle a plough were out in the fields ; others, less fortunate, because of the severity of their injuries, were making boots and shoes or articles of household use, some in the line of carpentry, others in the fashioning of various utensils; even the blind were engaged in printing books.

The officials who were showing me about seemed pleased to inform their compatriots that the American Ambassador had wanted to see them. It was a custom, I might say, on the part of those at the head of the widely located institutions which cared for the unfortunates of the war, to tell them that a representative of the great American Republic had called to express his sympathy. It was this attitude on the part of such men, everywhere in France, that somehow made me feel that no greater compensation for so slight a kindness could be rendered than in this touching revelation of their hearts.

An hour's visit to the remaining prison hospital, down in the city proper, completed the work of my special mission to Lyons. I found there an interesting object lesson quite out of the ordinary. In one of the larger wards into which I was conducted there were probably three-score patients. All had been cases for the surgeon. While some were still unable to leave their beds, others more fortunate were standing about the room. In accordance with the practice which prevailed in all the prison camps, and which extended quite as well to the hospitals, the prisoners were put under the discipline of some one of their own officers. As our little party entered the well-lighted room, the official in charge called in German, "Attention!" Immediately, all those who were able assumed an erect position, and simultaneously came the clicking of heels together and the regulation salute.

During a conversation with the hospital physician, I asked him from what parts of Germany most of his patients came. He replied that that would be very easy to ascertain. Turning to the official in charge, he asked if he would please request all those present to signify by rising where possible, otherwise by lifting their hands, from what particular German State they came. It was an interesting study to observe these men as they arose in groups at the call. But at the name of "Prussia," by far the largest number arose. There was a vigorous clicking of heels together, a throwing back of the head, and a look of defiance in their eyes, which their unhappy situation in no wise seemed to lessen. Their demeanour betokened as no mere words of description could do the pride which they felt in their origin.

One of those who made up our small party in this trip of inspection was Captain Carl Boyd, my ever-loyal Military Attaché. I had asked him to put in writing the salient points of our observations, that a report might be founded upon it, to be sent to the State Department. Long afterwards, in looking over the outline which he handed me, I recalled with a feeling of sadness his untimely taking away within a brief week in 1919, from pneumonia, which afflicted so many of our American workers in France. His worth had so impressed General Pershing that within a few weeks after the General's arrival in France he intimated to me his desire to place Captain Boyd upon his personal staff. It was with no little diffidence that the Captain, young in years, with a bright future before him, and much coveting this honour, came to ask if it would be agreeable to me if he accepted the offer of General Pershing. Knowing what it meant to him, I told him that while it would be no easy matter for me to replace him, I could not have the heart to stand in his way with such a promotion in sight. Poor fellow! After something more than a year's distinguished service which I know was greatly appreciated by General Pershing, Colonel Boyd, as he then was, died of the dread plague---for in its virulency it seemed at times to take such a form. And then, wrapped in the folds of the American flag which he loved so well, the body of this gallant young Colonel from Georgia was laid away beneath a little mound---one of many marked with their white crosses---on the green slopes of the American cemetery at Suresnes, overlooking the city of Paris.

The outstanding impression created in my mind---that which overshadowed everything else concerning prison camp life---was the robust appearance of the prisoner-soldiers. Stalwart of frame, of an average height of three or four inches above the French soldier, they gave the appearance of anything but discontent or ill-health. It was my conviction then, as it is now, that nine out of every ten of them returned to their homes in Germany better men physically than when they left to enter the war. The very regimen imposed in camp life, the kind and quality of food, not too much nor too little, without any opportunity to become intemperate through drink; all this coupled with hard out-of-door work had given to these young men the best of health,(5)

The most disagreeable feature of prison life was the lack, in some places, of suitable sleeping quarters. The sudden and overwhelming demands placed on the French Government at the beginning of the war certainly furnished a legitimate excuse for the inability to supply better accommodation.

At Havre I saw, lying at the docks, a large ship, improvised for housing and feeding several hundred prisoners; for many months they had been thus provided for. But even this novel "prison camp" had many advantages over the conditions which I saw in a large warehouse located further down the quays, which, from want of something more suitable for the purpose, had also been converted into a prison camp. Bunked in very closely together, in tiers, one above another, the prisoners slept here, taking their daily exercise in an enclosure outside of the building. Admiral Biard, Military Governor of Havre, under whose charge these prisoners had been placed exhibited with no little satisfaction a copy of a letter which one of those quartered in the ship had written home, telling how kindly he and his associates were treated by those in authority over them. Judging from their appearance I had no reason to doubt the truth of his message.

It was in reference particularly to the conditions existing in the large warehouse, that I made my strongest recommendations to the French Government to provide more sanitary sleeping accommodation. It is fair to say, however, that my efforts had only supplemented those which the Admiral himself had already made. At the time of my visit, he took me in his car to an elevated portion of the city, to show me where plans had already been made for the building of large barracks to accommodate the prisoners---an accomplishment which I am pleased to say was rapidly brought to completion. Even these criticisms must be taken to apply only to a limited number of cases where, from lack of such adequate accommodation, unsuitable quarters were converted into sleeping-rooms. The food was wholesome and evidently in sufficient quantity for proper nourishment. I am persuaded, too, from frequent talks with our agents returning from their inspection trips, as well as from my own observations including talks with prisoners, that unkind treatment was very rare.

A story came to my ears of an American contractor being offered a contract for the production of certain supplies. He was told that he would be allowed the use of German prison labour. When, however, he learned that it would be under the supervision of a French official, he declined to take the contract, because, as he said, the French were too indulgent with their prisoners to get out of them the work which was required.

As I have mentioned, it was the rule in the camps to allow German officers to exercise authority over their own men; at least that which pertained to their daily conduct. This I saw more than once in their exercises and drill. In some places, large open quarters existed, where, at certain hours of the day, the men gathered and went through their routine exercises. Horizontal bars and other gymnastic equipment were provided for them and they seemed greatly to enjoy the recreation. In close proximity, also, to a number of these camps were running streams of clear water in which the men were required to bathe.

I remember seeing, at the camp in Tours, a handsome young German officer, who seemed to enjoy not only the confidence, but I might say the liking of the French officers, Observing the favours shown him, I asked one of them the reason. He replied that that particular young officer's father was one of the German officers in the city of Cologne who, having charge of French prison camps near there, had shown unusual kindness to their compatriots. They felt that reciprocal treatment was only fair.

In the centre of the broad open space devoted to the prison camps at that place were located many tents in each of which three or four prisoners slept. Noticing that the beds lay flat upon the ground, I said to the officer who was showing me about: "Do you not think that when the cold weather sets in such accommodation will be very inadequate as a protection against the cold and rain? " He replied : "Yes, I have myself made formal recommendation to the Government for bettering these conditions. I hope that a change will soon be brought about." Upon telling him that when I returned to Paris I would be glad to supplement his efforts by a recommendation of my own, he replied: "I am very glad that you came here, for I shall now be more hopeful that changes which I have asked for will be granted." The officer's own attitude in the matter was the best proof to me that he had a real interest in the comfort of those in his charge.

As a sequel to my visit, I was pleased later to receive a report from our inspectors that before the rigours of the following winter had set in, the use of these tents for sleeping quarters for the prisoners had been abandoned and comfortable barracks provided. As to the supply of food furnished the prisoners, the position taken by the French officials in charge of these camps was that the food and other accommodation supplied to German prisoners in their keeping should not be any better than those provided for their own soldiers, who were fighting the battles of their country at the front. There was so much justice and reason in this, that little ground remained for controversy.

It was at the camp at Poitiers that the official in charge obligingly furnished me with an exhibition of what was known as the "goose step" of the German soldiers. At a distance perhaps of a hundred yards in front of us were placed several lines of soldiers, one back of the other, officered by their own men. Each line must have embraced at least a hundred men. Upon the word being given, each man in perfect time, with foot high in the air, commenced to march toward us in this rather ludicrous manner. With the leg extended rigidly at right angles from the body, the foot was brought down to the ground with such a resounding whack as to be heard at a great distance. I could see no special object in this kind of drill, unless it were intended to shake every bone and muscle in the soldier's body. Such purpose I have no doubt was entirely accomplished. It was while watching some of the men go through their exercises on horizontal bars that I stepped over to one of them who talked very fair English, and asked him if he were permitted to get any news from the front. With an answer which I thought was designed to be quite negative, I yet saw that he was by no means lacking in a general knowledge of the military situation. As it was a time when the German armies had been unusually successful in the North, the prisoner before me, though guarded in his brief remarks, impressed me as being confident of the outcome ; his satisfaction was ill-concealed.

The precautions taken to prevent the smuggling in to prisoners, through packages sent to them from their homes, of articles placed under the ban, were no more ingenious than the methods used to circumvent them. All such packages were subjected to the closest kind of examination. Sometimes the search was rewarded by the most curious kinds of discoveries, ranging from important matters of news to knives and small arms sent to aid in making an escape. Though now and then such attempts were attended with temporary success, yet invariably the prisoner was eventually apprehended and returned to the place from which he had escaped.

In all these camps there was afforded an unusual opportunity to study the various types of German soldiers. Many of them but a brief time before had been fighting under their country's flag. Because of the manner in which the armies of all the belligerent nations were recruited, nearly every class of men who could pass muster would be found, in addition to those who were soldiers by profession. As the loss of men on the battlefield grew heavier, the proportion of this last class decreased. The others ranged as a whole all the way from the rather effeminate looking designers of ladies' fashions to the stalwart worker of the shops or fields of his fatherland.

At each camp visited, the French official in charge obligingly insisted that the members of our party should inquire of the prisoners, quite out of his own presence, as to camp conditions. There were few if any complaints made in answer to such questions. In a large majority of cases those so interrogated expressed themselves as well satisfied. But at one of these camps I encountered an amusing exception.

A rather talkative young man came up to me, evidently desirous of exercising his right to make complaints, and fearful of losing some privilege through default in making the protest, rather than from any settled conviction as to its merits. In a most excited manner he said that his fellow prisoners were compelled to walk two miles each morning to their work, and the same distance on returning at the close of the day; it was an abuse that should be corrected. This complaint met with good-natured raillery from his companions standing about, who, evidently valuing the opportunity of getting away from the restraints of the enclosure, those fine summer mornings, and having the freedom and exercise which the walks enabled them to enjoy, did not consider them as very serious hardships.

On a second visit of inspection to Lyons, where the military prisoners were being employed to the extent of more than five hundred in the construction of a hospital, one of them was brought to me who spoke excellent English. The officer in charge considerately withdrew, that our conversation might be private. I was surprised to find in this young man all the manners of an American of cosmopolitan life. Speaking in good English, he told me that until the war broke out he had for seven years resided in New York City. He had worked first as a hotel clerk and later engaged in the brokerage business. In reply to my question as to the manner in which he and his fellow prisoners were being treated, he said that he had only words of praise for those in charge. In fact, it would seem that the life of all the prisoners in that camp, many of whom were engaged in this outdoor construction work, differed very little from that which one would expect from a labouring man at home. Perhaps the more restricted accommodation in the sleeping-rooms as provided would mark the greatest departure from home conditions. At no place which I visited did I hear of any cruelties being inflicted, and the reports of the Embassy agents were of a similar tenor, with but very few exceptions.

Upon inspecting the sleeping-rooms in a large camp located in the military barracks which had formerly been used to house French soldiers, I found that whether in the breast of the enemy captive, or in that of the Allied soldier fighting at the front, the constant reminder of those dear to him back home was to be found in the photographs and other mementoes of affection which had been sent to him and which conspicuously covered the walls. Rarely was the face of the mother absent from such a collection. Sometimes tender words had been inscribed below. Many of these prisoners were the recipients, from home, of things more substantial. Such an atmosphere of the recollections of home, permitted to exist about these prisoners, was a testimonial of consideration from their French captors as sentimental as it was generous.

I have referred thus far to the conditions prevailing in the camps where military prisoners were detained. One of my first trips of inspection, however, gave me the opportunity to study these conditions in the civilian camps. One of the largest of these was located at Châteauroux. A brand new building of large proportions, designed for an insane asylum but never occupied as such, was now devoted to the accommodation of these internés. The building was not only sanitary but well adapted for the purpose of housing these unfortunates. At this camp, they numbered approximately one thousand. In many instances the quota was made up of well-to-do tradespeople, German business men, who had been conducting their business in France for many years before the outbreak of the war. My coming had been heralded in advance by the officials in Paris, and upon my arrival I was very politely received by those in charge of the camp. Men, women, and children of all ages grouped themselves together in little knots along the corridors of the building through which our party passed. Some of the men and women, Austrian as well as German subjects, had married into French families.

The thing that impressed me most at Châteauroux was the general contentment which seemed to prevail among those whose freedom was denied them. A large area in the rear of the buildings was devoted to the cultivation of flower beds which were cared for by the prisoners themselves. Each one seemed to have an exclusive proprietorship in an allotted plot of ground for such use. Seeing a number of small children who for humanitarian reasons, if for no other, were allowed to remain with their parents, I was curious to know what provisions were made for their suitable care and instruction. The official in charge, on learning of my interest in this matter, conducted me into a portion of the building which contained several schoolrooms. Here were young French women teaching classes of children from the smallest up to those approaching adult age. I was told that every help was being freely given, that their unhappy condition might not deprive them of educational advantages. Comparatively few complaints were received at the Embassy of ill-treatment to the civilian internés. Except the limitation placed upon their freedom of action in leaving the camps, there was little harshness imposed on them.

Perhaps in no other phase of the great conflict was there better observation of the international rules which are supposed to govern the conduct of war than was evidenced in the treatment of prisoners in France, both civilian and military. I recall on one occasion in the Spring of 1917, after our Embassy had ceased to look after German interests because of the declaration of war by the United States, when I saw many German prisoners employed in chopping wood in the forests north of Amiens. But a few days before, they had been taken prisoners by the British troops. They had just been engaged in the most wanton destruction of the towns of Péronne, Bapaume, Albert, and many of the lesser villages in the wake of the great German retreat of that time. Within a week following that retreat I made a two-day trip through that desolate region, returning by way of Amiens, of which I shall say more later.(6) Riding through the forests en route, as I saw these strapping young fellows working with the glow of health on their cheeks, I could not help but indulge in a little philosophy of my own. It was exceedingly difficult for me to believe that these stalwart men in German uniform, with such accommodation for their comfort and with a regular supply of food provided by those against whom they had been fighting---food equal in quality to that of our lumbermen in the forests of northern Michigan and Wisconsin ---were the same who but yesterday had placed the sticks of dynamite under every building of the towns through whose melancholy ruins I had just passed! And yet a twentieth century civilization, which must tolerate such desolation, must religiously care for the health and well-being of the destroyers, even though but the day before their hands were stained with the blood of those who fought but to defend their homes. It all seemed to me such a strange abortion of humanity's high purpose, that the horrors of war could be looked upon by no inconsiderable portion of mankind as a sort of recognized necessity, the visitation of which must come from time to time to the people of the earth quite as the normal order of things---indeed for their advancement!

The duties involved in looking after the prisoners' interests by no means ended with visits to these prison camps and the making of reports thereon to Washington. Such visits indeed were only the prelude to a far greater amount of work placed upon the shoulders of the Embassy.

The discharge of these duties involved a great amount of correspondence and the keeping of upwards of forty thousand separate accounts, occasioned by the remittance to many of these prisoners of certain monthly allowances furnished by their several Governments. The entire voluminous dossier, comprising thousands of pages, extending over the time during which I had charge of German interests in France, is characterized by more frequent references to retaliations by the German and Austrian Governments in return for the alleged prison abuses in France, than any other one subject.

Such threats were usually accompanied by an ultimatum which provided that if corrections were not made within a certain time, the most dire results would follow. To all intents and purposes the innocent French prisoners, who had already hazarded their lives in defending their country, were to be held as a sort of hostage on whom was to be vented more cruel treatment by those in charge of them if their own Government failed to comply with such and such requirements. These threats, in so far as they were made by the German Government---and substantially the purely military prisoners in France were all of that nationality---were of course conveyed to me through my esteemed colleague Mr. Gerard, the American Ambassador at Berlin.

Whether the embarrassment which I have no doubt often came to him, in conveying these complaints and threats to me at the request of the German Government, was greater than my own in being compelled to lay them before the French Government, I do not know. Involving, however, as they did, threats ranging all the way from shortening hours of out-door exercise, lessening of rations, solitary confinement, etc., to the actual execution of prisoners, the trust devolving on me to prevent their being carried out was no light responsibility. As nearly every individual complaint had a history back of it---a dossier in the Embassy files---the human interest attached to some of them may well be imagined. I shall never forget the concern which at times came to me when, in particular, threats to execute some French prisoner in retaliation for an alleged maltreatment of a German prisoner reached the Embassy. In every case a time-limit was set. I could not help but feel a share in the responsibility assumed by the French Government, to whom I had communicated the German complaint, in seeing that no French prisoners, all innocent of any wrongdoing themselves, should meet such a fate. Never was there closer tab kept on the fleeting days of those time limits than when they had to do with such possible tragic consequences.

Perhaps the most persistent effort in behalf of any one prisoner was that made for von Schierstaedt, a German officer to whom Mr. Gerard, in his most interesting book, " My Four Years in Germany," has referred at some length.(7) The perusal of the account of this incident only confirmed me in my belief at the time, that this particular prisoner had powerful friends at home. He had been captured in the first days of the war, as he was reconnoitring, I believe, near Fontainebleau, in a territory quite in advance of the main German army. It was as much the desire to enable my colleague to make good," to use an American vernacular, as my sense of obligation, which caused me to make an unusual effort in this case. I succeeded better than I had hoped. The voluntary return of prisoners---especially when they have the rank of officers---is not an easy matter to bring about between belligerent Powers. First, succeeding in preventing his deportation to Guiana, which had already been decided upon, I felt that to be able to do much more would be well nigh out of the question.

Unexpected circumstances only added to my difficulty. The young son of M. Delcassé, the Minister for Foreign Affairs, soon after the beginning of the war in which he had been gallantly fighting, was captured and confined in a German prison. Seizing upon this opportunity to enforce their demands, the German Government had let it be plainly known that unless von Schierstaedt could be freed and sent home, more severe discipline might be administered to young Delcassé. And it was with his father, because of his position in the French Government, that I must carry on negotiations.(8)

With a high conception of duty, even though the health and perhaps the very life of an only son were at stake, the affectionate father must remain first a Minister of State. In such a capacity, the fate of his own son must mean no more to him than that of the sons of a million other fathers in France, When I brought the demand of the German Government to the Minister's attention, reluctant as I was to do so under the unusual circumstances, M. Delcassé told me with just indignation that the very fact that such a threat had been made precluded his making any favourable recommendation in the matter. He could not sign the order even if the life of his son hung in the balance! I shall never forget the bitterness of his voice, nor the scorn with which he received this ultimatum of the German Government. Surely the display of the ways past understanding of German psychology, so much talked of during the war, was never made more manifest than in this particular instance. In full sympathy with his position as well as his anguish of spirit over this new fate which might be meted out to his son, I could urge the matter no further.

Some time later it developed that von Schierstaedt's mental condition had become such as to warrant his confinement in a medical hospital, in which case there was good cause for his repatriation. Later the prisoner was examined by medical experts who were unanimous in their finding as to his mental incapacity. The upshot of the matter was that after a time he was allowed to return to Germany. Whether the German Government had still kept in mind the Delcassé of the Algeciras incident may be left to conjecture.

Some time after the conclusion of this case I received the following letter from Ambassador Gerard at Berlin:

Ambassador Gerard to Ambassador Sharp.

Embassy of the United States
of America,
Berlin, Germany.

My dear Colleague:

Thank you for your letter of September 21St, re Stracwitz and Schierstaedt.

Von Jagow, Minister for Foreign Affairs, has asked me to express to you his gratitude, and that of his Government, for all your splendid work in this affair. They are all very grateful.

You have no idea how important the matter was considered here. There were thousands of articles in the newspapers, cartoons, etc., and the greatest interest. You certainly worked out a difficult situation in a wonderful way. Again congratulations.

With best wishes,
                        Yours ever,
                                                                        JAMES W. GERARD.

October, 3, 1915.
His Excellency Hon. William G. Sharp,
           American Ambassador,
                   Paris, France.

I would be happy if I might tell my readers of a similar good fortune for the brave young Delcassé. But his fate must furnish a sad sequel to my story. Subjected, in the face of my intercession for humane treatment, to the harsh regimen of the prison camp, much of the time living under conditions anything but conducive to health, he remained long a prisoner. Finally he was sent to Switzerland in a very enfeebled condition and there died a victim of tuberculosis,(9) The sorrowing father, mother, and sister had but the solace of bringing his poor body back for burial in the soil of his beloved France. In answer to a letter which I wrote to M. Delcassé, expressing my deep sympathy over the untimely loss of such a noble son, there came back to me a few days later these simple words of appreciation:

"With all my heart I thank you, my dear Ambassador, for your mark of warm sympathy. It is singularly precious to me and I am very deeply touched by it as well as my wife and daughter. I pray you, my dear Ambassador, to accept with my best remembrance, the expression of all my gratitude."

One day early in February, 1917, a telegram, not at all unexpected by me, came from the State Department directing me in substance to discontinue my work in behalf of German prisoners. The United States Government had taken the first step leading to war with Germany. It had not been a difficult matter, during the preceding months, to predict a time when the tense situation which had existed between the United States and the Central Powers, so aggravated by the accumulating horrors of submarine warfare, must cause a rupture of diplomatic relations. Only the most enthusiastic optimist could believe that such a step once taken would not eventuate in a declaration of war,

On February 6, I telegraphed the Department: "Have suspended all activities on behalf of Germany and notified consuls to this effect." This brief message signalized the dropping of the curtain upon a scene of activities which in their importance, extent of effort, and burdens of responsibility have never before, I believe, been imposed by one nation upon another,(10) When a few days later I turned over all the archives and records, consisting of innumerable documents, to my venerable colleague M. Lardy, for thirty-four years Minister to France from Switzerland, which country Germany had asked thenceforth to represent her interests, he was overwhelmed at the magnitude of the work so suddenly thrust upon him. It became necessary for that Legation to employ a large extra clerical force; and to them, for some time, those of the personnel of my Embassy, long and faithfully identified with this task, gave their most hearty assistance.