PLAIN WORDS FROM AMERICA

February, 1916.

Your two letters, with enclosed newspaper clippings, and your postal card were duly received.  I can assure you that my failure to reply more promptly was not meant as any discourtesy.  The clippings were gladly received, for I am always anxious to read what prominent Germans regard as able and convincing presentations of their side of disputed matters.  Your own letters, particularly the long one of July 9, were read most carefully.  I appreciate your earnest endeavour to convince me of the righteousness of your country’s cause, and am not unmindful of the time and trouble you spent in preparing for me so carefully worded a presentation of the German point of view touching several matters of the profoundest importance to our two Governments.

My failure to reply has been due to a doubt in my own mind as to whether good would be accomplished by any letter which I could write.  I could not agree with your opinions regarding Germany’s responsibility for the war, nor regarding her methods of conducting the war; and it did not seem to me that you would profit by any statement I might make as to the reasons for my own opinions on such vital matters.  Your letters clearly showed that you wrote under the influence of an intense emotion—­an emotion which I can both understand and respect, but which might well make it impossible for you to accord a dispassionate reception to a reply which controverted your own views.  With your country surrounded by powerful foes, with your sons deluging alien soil in an heroic defence of your Government’s decrees, with the nation you love most dearly standing in moral isolation, condemned by the entire neutral world for barbarous crimes against civilisation, you could hardly be expected to write with that scientific accuracy and care which would, in normal times, be your ideal.

For this reason I have not resented much in your letters which would otherwise call for earnest protest.  I feel sure, for example, your assertion that I and my fellow-countrymen derive our opinions of German conduct wholly from corrupt and venal newspapers, or usually from a single newspaper which doles out mental poison in subservience to a single political party, was not intended to be as insulting as it really sounded.  Your emotion doubtless led you to make charges which your sense of justice and courtesy would, under other circumstances, condemn.  I believe also that in a calmer time you would not entertain the sweeping opinion that “the daily press has become one of the direst plagues of humanity, an ulcer in the frame of society, whose one object it is, for private ends (wealth, political influence, and social position), to pit the races, nations, religions, and classes against one another.”  I realise that some of our papers are a disgrace to the high calling of journalism; I believe that some sacrifice honour for