All through that eventful August and September Wangenheim continued his almost irresponsible behaviour--now blandly boastful, now depressed, always nervous and high-strung, ingratiating to an American like myself, spiteful and petty toward the representatives of the enemy Powers. He was always displaying his anxiety and impatience by sitting on the bench, that he might be within two or three minutes’ quicker access to the wireless communications that were sent him from Berlin _via_ the _Corcovado_. He would never miss an opportunity to spread the news of victories; several times he adopted the unusual course of coming to my house unannounced, to tell me of the latest developments and to read me extracts from messages which he had just received. He was always apparently frank, direct, and even indiscreet. I remember his great distress the day that England declared war. Wangenheim had always professed a great admiration for England, and especially for America. “There are only three great countries,” he would say over and over again, “Germany, England, and the United States. We three should get together, then we could rule the world.” This enthusiasm for the British Empire now suddenly cooled when that Power decided to defend her treaty pledges and declared war. Wangenheim had said that the conflict would be a short one; Sedan Day (September 2nd) would be celebrated in Paris. But on August 5th I called at his Embassy and found him more than usually agitated and serious. Baroness Wangenheim, a tall, handsome woman, was sitting in the room reading her mother’s memoirs of the war of 1870. Both regarded the news from England as almost a personal grievance, and what impressed me most was Wangenheim’s utter failure to understand England’s motives. “It’s mighty poor politics on her part!” he exclaimed over and over again. His attitude was precisely the same as that of Bethmann-Hollweg with the “scrap of paper.” I was out for a stroll on August 26th, and happened to meet the German Ambassador. He began to talk as usual about the German victories in France, repeating, as was now his habit, his prophecy that the German armies would be in Paris within a week. The deciding factor in this war, he added, would be the Krupp artillery. “And remember that this time,” he said, “we are making war. And we shall make it _rücksichtslos_ (without any consideration). We shall not be hampered as we were in 1870. Then Queen Victoria, the Czar, and Francis Joseph interfered and persuaded us to spare Paris. But there is no one to interfere now. We shall move to Berlin all the Parisian art treasures that belong to the State, just as Napoleon took Italian art works to France.” It is quite evident that the battle of the Marne saved Paris from the fate of Louvain.