the basis of organized government; each has stood to the other, sometimes as an example and sometimes a warning, and these lessons of history have been profitable to both.

The greatest republic of the old world greets us tonight in the person of one of her most distinguished citizens. Gentlemen, I have pleasure in presenting the scholar, the author, the diplomatist, His Excellency, Mr. J. J. Jusserand, the French Ambassador.

On two tragic occasions, at a century's distance, the fate of this country has trembled in the balance: Would it be a free nation? Would it continue to be one nation? A leader was wanted on both occasions, a very different one in each case. This boon from above was granted to the American people who had a Washington when a Washington was needed and a Lincoln when a Lincoln could save them.

Both had enemies, both had doubters, but both were recognized by all open-minded people and, above all, by the nation at large, as the men to shape the nation's destinies. When the Marquis de Chastellux came to America as chief of staff in the army of Rochambeau, his first thought was to go and see his friend Lafayette and, at the same time, Washington. He has noted in his memoirs what were, on first sight, his impressions of the not yet victorious, not yet triumphant, not yet universally admired American patriot:

"I saw," he said, "M. de Lafayette talking in the yard with a tall man of 5 feet 9 inches, of noble mien and sweet face. It was the general himself. I dismounted and soon felt myself at my ease by the side of the greatest and best of all men. All who meet him trust him, but no one is familiar with him, because the sentiment he inspires to all has ever the same cause; a profound esteem for his virtues and the highest opinion of his talents." So wrote a foreigner who was not Lafayette, who suddenly found himself face to face with the great man. Any chance comer, any passer-by would have been similarly impressed. He inspired confidence and those who saw him felt that the fate of the country was safe in his hands.

A century of almost unbroken prosperity had nearly elapsed when came the hour of the nation's second trial. Though it may seem to us a small matter compared with what we have seen since, the development had been considerable; the scattered colonies of yore had become a great nation, and now it seemed as if all was in doubt again; the nation was young, wealthy, powerful, prosperous; it had immense domains and resources; yet it seemed as if her fate would parallel those of old empires described by Tacitus, which, without foes, crumble to pieces under their own weight. Within her own frontiers elements of destruction or disruption had been growing; hatreds were embittered among people equally brave, bold and sure of their rights. The edifice raised by Washington was trembling on its base; a catastrophe was at hand. Then it was that in the middlesized, not yet world-famous town, Chicago by name, the republican convention called there for the first time, met to choose a candidate for the presidency. It has met there again since, and has made, each time, a remarkable choice.

In 1860 it chose a man whom my predecessor of those days, announcing the news to his government, described as "a man almost unknown, Mr. Abraham Lincoln." Almost unknown was he, indeed, at home as well as abroad, and the news of his selection was received with anxiety. My country, France, was then governed by Napoleon III; all liberals had their eyes fixed on America. Your example was the great example which gave heart to our most progressive men. You had proved that republican government was possible, by having one. If it broke to pieces, so would the hopes of all those among us who expected that one day we would have the same. And the partisans of autocracy were loud in their assertion that a republic was well and good for a country without enemies or neighbors but that, if a storm arose, it would be shattered. A storm arose and the helm had been placed in the hands of that man almost unknown, Mr. Abraham Lincoln. "We still remember," wrote, years later, the illustrious French writer, Prevost-Paradol, "the uneasiness with which we awaited the first words of that President then unknown, upon whom a heavy task had fallen and from whose advent to power might be dated the ruin or regeneration of his country. All we knew was that he had sprung up from the humblest walks of life, that his youth had been spent in manual labor; that. he had then risen by degrees in his town, in his county and in his state. What was this favorite of the people? Democratic societies are liable to errors which are fatal to them. But as soon as Mr. Lincoln arrived in Washington, as soon as he spoke, all our doubts and fears were dissipated;