As I look upon the new map, which shows Germany’s recent military and diplomatic triumphs, my experiences in Constantinople take on a new meaning. I now see the events of these twenty-six months as part of a connected, definite story. The several individuals that moved upon the scene now appear as players in a carefully staged, superbly managed drama. I see clearly enough now that Germany had made all her plans for world dominion and that the country to which I had been accredited as American Ambassador was the foundation of the Kaiser’s whole political and military structure. Had Germany not acquired control of Constantinople in the early days of the war, it is not unlikely that hostilities would have ended a few months after the battle of the Marne. It was certainly an amazing fate that landed me in this great headquarters of intrigue at the very moment when the plans of the Kaiser, carefully pursued for a quarter of a century, were about to achieve their final success. For the work of subjugating Turkey and transforming its army and its territory into instruments of Germany, the Emperor had sent to Constantinople an Ambassador who was ideally fitted for the task. The mere fact that Wilhelm had personally selected Baron von Wangenheim for this post shows that he had accurately gauged the human qualities needed for this great diplomatic enterprise. The Kaiser had early selected Wangenheim as a useful instrument for his plans; he had more than once summoned him to Corfu for his vacations, and here, we may be sure, the two congenial spirits had passed many days discussing German ambitions in the East. At the time I first met him, Wangenheim was fifty-four years old; he had given a quarter of a century to the diplomatic service, he had seen service in such different places as Petrograd, Copenhagen, Madrid, Athens, and Mexico, and he had been _chargé_ at Constantinople, several years later coming there as Ambassador. He understood completely all countries, including the United States; his first wife, indeed, had been an American, and Wangenheim, when Minister to Mexico, had intimately studied our country and acquired that admiration for our energy and progress which he frequently expressed. He had a complete technical equipment for a diplomat; he spoke German, English, and French with equal facility, he knew the East thoroughly, and had the widest acquaintance with public men. Physically he was one of the most striking persons I have ever known. When I was a boy in Germany, the Fatherland was usually symbolised as a beautiful and powerful woman--a kind of dazzling Valkyrie; when I think of modern Germany, however, the massive, burly figure of Wangenheim naturally presents itself to my mind. He was six feet, two inches tall; his huge, solid frame, his Gibraltar-like shoulders, erect and impregnable, his bold, defiant head, his piercing eyes, the whole physical structure constantly pulsating with life and activity--there stands, I would say,