the
doors; and even ticket-holders had great difficulty in gaining
admission. The spacious amphitheatre of the Sorbonne was filled with a
representative audience, numbering probably three thousand people.
Around the hall, were statues of the great masters of French
intellectual life--Pascal, Descartes, Lavoisier, and others. On the
wall was one of the Puvis de Chavannes's most beautiful mural
paintings. The group of university officials and academicians on the
dais, from which Mr. Roosevelt spoke, lent to the occasion an
appropriate university atmosphere. The simple but perfect arrangement
of the French and American flags back of the speaker suggested its
international character.

The speech was an appeal for moral rather than for intellectual or
material greatness. It was received with marked interest and approval;
the passage ending with a reference to "cold and timid souls who know
neither victory nor defeat," was delivered with real eloquence, and
aroused a long-continued storm of applause. With characteristic
courage, Mr. Roosevelt attacked race suicide when speaking to a race
whose population is diminishing, and was loudly applauded.
Occasionally with quizzical humor he interjected an extemporaneous
sentence in French, to the great satisfaction of his audience. A
passage of peculiar interest was the statement of his creed regarding
the relation of property-rights to human rights; it was not in his
original manuscript but was written on the morning of the lecture as
the result of a discussion of the subject of vested interests with one
or two distinguished French publicists. He first pronounced this
passage in English, and then repeated it in French, enforced by
gestures which so clearly indicated his desire to have his hearers
unmistakably understand him in spite of defective pronunciation of a
foreign tongue that the manifest approval of the audience was
expressed in a curious mingling of sympathetic laughter and prolonged
and serious applause.

A fortnight after the Sorbonne address, I received from a friend, an
American military officer living in Paris who knows well its general
habit of mind, a letter from which I venture to quote here, because it
so strikingly portrays the influence that Mr. Roosevelt exerted as an
orator during his European journey:

I find that Paris is still everywhere talking of Mr. Roosevelt. It
was a thing almost without precedent that this _blase_ city kept
up its interest