On our first Sunday in Paris a grand concert was held in the Trocadero—a great government owned auditorium on the banks of the Seine,—under Canadian auspices. When Ambassador Sharp and I entered the centre box the vast audience rose and cheered—a new sensation for me to be so welcomed after my war-years in Berlin, where I had been harried and growled at, the representative of a hated people, of a people at once envied for their wealth, hated because they had dared to keep their rights and treaties and sell goods to the enemies of Germany, and despised because the Germans believed them too rich and cowardly, too fat and degenerate, to fight in the great war for the mastery of the world.
Lord Esher called on me at the hotel and invited me on behalf of Field Marshal Haig, to visit the British line. I am sorry that I did not have time to accept this invitation, especially as in Germany I had not even heard the distant firing of cannon.
The Great General Headquarters at Charleville-Mézières where I had visited Emperor William at the end of April, 1916, was only about seventy kilometres from the battle front near Rheims. I was naturally anxious to inspect, if not the front trenches, at least the vicinity of the front, but the army officers attached to the German Foreign Office, who had accompanied me, informed me that the Chancellor had telephoned all the Generals in the vicinity to ask permission for me to visit the lines but that not one of them would permit me to visit his sector. This was a fairly certain indication that sooner or later the hate for America must lead to war or that the U-boat settlement made at the time was only a stop gap until the increased number of submarines would enable Germany to commence ruthless U-boat war once more in defiance of law and humanity, and with a greater hope of military success.
Compared to Berlin, Paris seemed a land of abundance. In the restaurants, however, the customer was limited to two courses, but with the privilege of a second helping.
I called on Lord Bertie, the British Ambassador, to ask him to convey my acknowledgments to the Honourable Arthur James Balfour, from whom I had received a most complimentary communication. I found him in the beautiful home of the British Embassy on the Rue St. Honoré, a house so cold for want of coal that I was compelled to make my visit short for fear of pneumonia.
With Mrs. Gerard we lunched with our friends from Berlin, Jules Cambon, a former French Ambassador there, and his family, at the La Rue restaurant, opposite the Madelaine. Cambon seemed as game as ever, but fatigued.
Briand, who was then Premier, invited me to breakfast at the Minister of Foreign Affairs. The other guests included our Ambassador, Mr. Sharp, Cambon and the Ambassadors of Britain, Italy, Russia and Japan and several distinguished Frenchmen.
AMBASSADORS WILLIAM G. SHARP AND JAMES W. GERARD FROM A PHOTOGRAPH TAKEN IN PARIS, FEBRUARY, 1917