I now had the privilege of watching, from the most favourable point of vantage, a critical test of the national psychology which the French Government made in July, 1917. With a profound sense of dramatic values, they had arranged that the American troops should be exhibited to the French public on their Independence Day, July 14th, as units of a great patriotic parade. To make sure that they might accurately gauge the psychological effect, the President’s reviewing stand was placed in Vincennes, where the people had suffered greatly from the privations of the war, and where disaffection was rife. I received an invitation to witness the parade from the President’s reviewing stand, and Ambassador Sharp, General Pershing, and I were the only Americans so favoured. We were arranged around President Poincaré, with Monsieur Painlevé, Minister of War, and others. M. Painlevé afterward told me that he and the President of the Republic had headed the procession while it was passing through the poorer quarters of the city, to test the attitude of the people before they had tasted the enthusiasm which the sight of troops would naturally arouse, and that they had been encouraged by receiving everywhere a cordial and even a hearty reception. Nevertheless, I could plainly see the evidences of nervousness amongst the French officials--a nervousness which grew more intense as the military parade approached. It was somewhat relieved as the French soldiers marched by, and were greeted by the hearty cheers of the people. It disappeared entirely when our splendid Americans swung past the reviewing stand. The enthusiasm of the spectators then passed all bounds. To the French officials this approval of the populace meant relief from a heart-breaking anxiety: to us Americans who stood with them it was an occasion for patriotic pride. To see the flag of our young nation in this old capital of Europe, and behind it those two thousand splendid examples of our young manhood, so erect in carriage, and so lithe in motion--their faces so eager and intelligent--their whole bearing so proudly representative of the millions that were to follow them, and to see how much their presence meant to rulers and people alike--all this made a picture that filled us with happiness. The effect upon the French nation was instantaneous and electrical. From despair, they changed overnight to fresh hope and confidence. Though they then only hoped for one third of a million reinforcements within a year, and little dreamed of the marvel which was actually performed of bringing two million men speedily to France, they were nevertheless enthusiastic over the prospect. Responsible Frenchmen urged me to advise President Wilson to assert himself at once as the leader of the whole alliance against Germany; and responsible Britons soon afterward added that they, as well as the French, would welcome a unified control of the Allies’ political policy with President Wilson in command. I think it