News

King George V and President Raymond Poincare of France

King George V and President Raymond Poincare of France


We are searching data for your request:

Forums and discussions:
Manuals and reference books:
Data from registers:
Wait the end of the search in all databases.
Upon completion, a link will appear to access the found materials.

King George V and President Raymond Poincare of France


This picture shows the heads of state of Britain and France at the start of the First World War, King George V and President Raymond Poincare.


King George V In Paris 1914

King George V and Queen Mary pay a state visit to Paris and meet President Poincare.

Description

Unused / unissued material -

King George V and Queen Mary leaving Paris station with French President Raymond Poincare in open carriage.

Long procession of open carriages with escort crossing Seine bridge.

King and Queen with Poincare walking in procession from Elysee palace.

  • Paris
  • France
  • processions
  • royalty
  • King
  • George
  • Queen
  • Mary
  • Henri
  • Poincare
  • Seine
  • rivers
  • bridges

Comments (0)

We always welcome comments and more information about our films.
All posts are reactively checked. Libellous and abusive comments are forbidden.

Add your comment

Please Register or Log in to add a comment.


Bible Encyclopedias

RAYMOND POINCARE (1860-), French statesman and writer ( see 21.892). After the fall of the Sarrien Ministry in 1906 M. Poincare ceased for some years to take an active part in politics. On Dec. 9 1909 he was made a member of the French Academy. In 1911 he was invited to join the Monis Ministry, but refused. His opportunity came at the beginning of 1912, and on Jan. 13 he became head of what was popularly known as the "great" or "national" Ministry, in which he also held the portfolio of Foreign Affairs. As Prime Minister Poincare aimed at safeguarding the interests of France abroad, especially against the menace of the Triple Alliance, and at strengthening her at home by firm government and the restoration of social discipline. In this lie was helped by the revival of a strong national feeling in France, provoked by the international crisis of 1911. The fact that he was a Lorrainer prejudiced public opinion in his favour, and his popularity was increased by his' foreign policy - especially the successful establishment of the French protectorate over Morocco and the conclusion of the naval agreement with Russia. In Aug. 1912 Poincare went to St. Petersburg to confer with the Tsar and his ministers about the Franco-Russian Alliance and the new developments of the Eastern question, a visit which countered the somewhat depressing effect in France of the meeting of the German and Russian Emperors at Baltic Port on July 4. The Balkan Wars, and Poincare's attitude towards the problem raised by them, greatly increased his prestige he declared on Dec. 4 to the Foreign Affairs Committee of the Chamber that he was determined to secure respect for the economic and political interests of France, not only in the Balkan Peninsula, but in the Ottoman Empire generally, and especially in Syria.

At the beginning of 1913 he became a candidate for the presidency. This action excited strong personal as well as political feeling, and his election was hotly contested, the second and. third ballots showing a majority for his most serious competitor, M. Pams. On appeal to the National Assembly, however, he was ultimately elected by a majority of 187 votes over M. Pams, his inauguration taking place on Feb. 18 amid great demonstrations of popular enthusiasm. Two days later he showed that he intended to exercise the right of the President to address Parliament direct - a right which had fallen into desuetude - by sending a message to the Chambers, in which he stated that it was his function as President "to be a guide and adviser for public opinion in times of crisis" and "to seek to make a rational choice between conflicting interests." His activities as President were still directed to strengthening the internal and external position of France. In June 1913, after inspecting the fleet at Toulon, he paid a State visit to England (24-27), during which he enlarged on the necessity of the perpetual association of the two nations "for the progress of civilization and the maintenance of the peace of the world." In the autumn he made a motor tour of the south of France, - being greeted everywhere with popular acclamation, the bands playing the irredentist march "Sambre et Meuse," - and attended the army manoeuvres at Toulouse. His State visit to Spain followed in October.

The President's activity and enormous popularity roused the anger of the Opposition parties, and the Radical-Socialist congress at Pau, on Oct. 17, passed a resolution condemning "the aspirations of personal policy." This had no effect, how ever, on public opinion, and Poincare's popularity was undiminished during the months immediately preceding the outbreak of the World War. On the very eve of the war, immediately after the rising of the Chambers on July 15 1914, Poincare set out on a State visit to Russia and the Scandinavian countries, arriving at Kronstadt on July 20. His visit to Sweden was, however, interrupted by the serious news from France, and on the 29th he was back in Paris. He now made a personal appeal to King George V. to use his influence in favour of peace, while the Ministry asked for the armed intervention of Great Britain. After the outbreak of war his activities were mainly directed to stirring up the patriotic spirit of the people, as in his messages to the Chambers of Aug. 4 1914 and Aug. 5 1915, or his speech on July 14 1915 on the occasion of the transference of the remains of Rouget de Lisle, the composer of the "Marseillaise," to the Invalides. On Oct. 4 1914 he also visited the French head-quarters.

After the conclusion of the Armistice Poincare made a tour in Alsace and Lorraine, his official entrance into Metz taking place on Dec. 4 1918. On Jan. 18 1919 he opened the Peace Conference in Paris with a short speech, in which he emphasized "justice" as the guiding principle of the victorious Allies. His term of office expired on the following Feb. 18. He subsequently accepted the presidency of the Reparations Commission, which he resigned in May 1920 as a protest against what he considered to be the undue leniency shown to Germany. This became the text of a violent press campaign which he carried on, against the policy of the Supreme Council in general and of Mr. Lloyd George in particular (see France: History). During 1920 and 1921 it was Poincare's influence that was mainly dictating the aggressiveness of French feeling in international politics and during the latter part of Briand's premiership, culminating in Briand's visit to the United States for the Washington Conference at the end of 1921, it was Poincare who was fomenting the criticism that French interests were being undermined. The result was seen when, in the midst of the Cannes Conference in Jan. 1022, the proposal for an Anglo-French treaty of defence led to Briand's hasty return to Paris to answer interpellations with regard to his policy in the Chamber, and to his sudden resignation on Jan. 13 without facing discussion on a vote of confidence. Poincare was at once entrusted by President Millerand with the formation of a new Cabinet, which he completed on Jan. 15, and French policy under his premiership was now given a definitely Nationalist orientation.

Poincare's published works include Du droit de suite dans la propriete mobilaire (1883) Idees contemporaines (1906) Questions et figures politiques (1907).

See Henry Girard, Raymond Poincare (1913) Raymond Poincare, a sketch (1914) Larousse Mensuel, No. 158 (1920)


Peace to Be Picked Up: The Secret Diplomacy Failure of 1916 that Changed the World

On August 12, 1916, France’s president, Raymond Poincaré, walked up to the British military headquarters at Val Vion, in northern France, for a private conference with Britain’s king, George V. The king came out to greet him, wearing a beribboned khaki military uniform appropriate to the occasion. President Poincaré joined him in a more somber kind of uniform, a livery of mourning. Poincaré wore black from head to toe, without a bit of adornment or decoration.

To the French public, Poincaré was a symbol of the united war effort, a conservative nationalist who personified France’s “sacred union” to win the great war. That was the public man. But in private, with the distant thunder of the guns in the background, Poincaré had a sober message. He confided to the king that he was in favor of “bringing the war to a conclusion as soon as possible.”

How could this be done? Poincaré had his eye on the American path to peace. He expected the American president, Woodrow Wilson, to offer mediation by October. “When an offer of American mediation comes,” the French president explained, “the Allies should be ready to state their terms for peace.” The French public, he added, was “too optimistic.” The people did not know the full situation. And he also felt “great anxiety in regard to the state of affairs in Russia” — a country then about seven months away from the revolution that would topple Czarist rule.

Knowing nothing of this French-British exchange, only six days later, on August 18, the chancellor of Imperial Germany sent a momentous and secret cable to his able ambassador in Washington. He and his Kaiser were also desperate to end the war and ready for compromise, including the restoration of Belgium. “We are happy to accept a mediation by the President [Wilson] to start peace negotiations among the belligerents who want to bring this about,” the German chancellor instructed. “Please strongly encourage the President’s activities in this regard.”

To avoid giving any impression that his country was weak, the chancellor’s plea was utterly secret. The German mediation request was unconditional.

For more than five months, from August 1916 until the end of January 1917, leaders from Germany, Britain, and the United States secretly struggled to end the Great War. They did so far out of public sight, one reason their battle is still little understood today.

Few know that the German government secretly sought peace and pleaded for President Wilson to mediate a peace conference. This was no informal feeler. It was a direct move made at the top, coordinated with allies and key political figures in Germany. Few know of the German move fewer still can trace exactly what happened to it.

Few know that Wilson entirely recognized the significance of this move and sought to act on it as quickly and emphatically as he could. He placed it at the top of his agenda as soon as he was reelected. Wilson also knew he had practically absolute leverage—mainly financial—over the Allied ability to continue the war. Given the political climate in the warring countries, it was the Americans who could give the peacemakers in all the warring capitals the face-saving way out.

Few know that the divided British coalition government was intensely, secretly debating its own growing pessimism about the war and its imminent bankruptcy in the dollars to sustain it. These debates were quickened by a still deeper layer of secret knowledge. British intelligence had learned of the secret German peace move.

Few know any of these things because, to outsiders then and to most historians now, it seemed that nothing happened.

During those five months of speculation, arguments, and choices behind closed doors, the future of the war, and the world, hung in the balance as never before.

The winter of 1916–1917 was pivotal for the history of the United States. Six months before America entered the war, few Americans (or British leaders) predicted it would. Even in January 1917, urged to look to the readiness of the armed forces, Woodrow Wilson, who had just been reelected with the slogan “He kept us out of war,” turned sharply on his adviser. “There will be no war,” the president said. “This country does not intend to become involved in this war.”

The Road Less Traveled: The Secret Battle to End to Great War, 1916-1917, by Philip Zekilow

Until April 1917 the United States in its 141-year history had never sent a single soldier or sailor to fight on the continent of Europe. During the next year and a half, the United States, then a country of about one hundred million people, would send two million of them across the Atlantic Ocean to war. Neither Europe nor the United States would ever be the same.

There is a public story of why and how America’s historic neutrality came to an end. It is a story catalyzed by a debate over German submarine warfare. That story is well understood.

But behind that public story is the secret story. The Germans resumed their full U-boat war, the public road to wider war, because some German leaders concluded that the alternative road, the secret road, the peace road, had, after months of trying, reached a dead end.

The Americans faced the end of neutrality because they too had run out of options: President Wilson’s alternative, his peace diplomacy, had also failed, although—then and later—he never really understood quite what had gone wrong.

The 1916–1917 phase of peacemaking was also a unique moment in the history of the world. After 1916–1917, there would be other discussions about peace. But the alignment of possibilities slipped away. In March 1917, the Russian Revolution began. The Russian war effort slowly collapsed. That collapse eased some major problems for Germany and its allies. It gave them hope to carry on.

After 1916–1917, the British and French also had fresh reason to hope. They had America on their side. That sustained them, quite literally, in their darkest days.

So, what in August 1916 were two years of agonizing war had by November 1918 turned into more than four. Those further years of widening war changed the whole course of world history.

To pick just one example: without a continuation of the war, it is hard to work out any plausible scenario in which the Bolsheviks would have seized power in Russia. As the war continued, profoundly damaged most of all, beyond the countless individual human tragedies, were the future prospects for core regions of the world—Europe and the Middle East.

As horrific as the war had been until the end of 1916, the conflicts of 1917–1918 pushed Europe and the Middle East over the edge. The historian Robert Gerwarth has recently chronicled that descent.

“Notably in its final stages, from 1917 onwards, the Great War changed in nature….It was in this period that a particularly deadly but ultimately conventional conflict between states—the First World War—gave way to an interconnected series of conflicts whose logic and purpose was much more dangerous.”

As I wrote in the study of the 9/11 attacks by the 9/11 Commission, “The path of what happened is so brightly lit that it places everything else more deeply into shadow.” Much of what happened in this history, the secret debates and hidden crises, was already in shadow to begin with. This history should see the light, because, beyond the tragedy, it is also a story of inspiring possibilities.

Two roads diverged. Both were uncertain. One led toward peace, the other toward a wider war. The secret battles to end the war were not a blur of explosions and gunfire, the battles that kill thousands. They were the quieter, more secret kind that determine the fates of millions. A small number of leaders, mainly in London, Washington, and Berlin, faced their two roads.

Analytically, one can distill some of the miscues into cold isolates of timing, ambition, dissembling, and incompetence. But, as with those who first encountered the world of molecular biology, the closer one looks at this episode with the historian’s microscope, strange new worlds open to view. And, as in the greatest tragedies, what stands out are some human beings, flawed as they are, who did strive courageously to avert catastrophe. They wrestled with a challenge that, in its way, was as great as any of the mud-spattered heroics in Flanders or Galicia, at Verdun or Belleau Wood.

The story of the lost peace would be easy if it were merely a story of governments with irreconcilable goals. But the chancellor of Germany and the president of the United States had a vision that meshed with the vision that held sway in much, if not most, of the British cabinet, at times including both of the relevant prime ministers. The possibilities for peace were tantalizingly within reach.

Some leaders rose to the occasion. Others did not. Some demonstrated the greatest civic courage others, its absence. It was one of those times that reveal a person’s deepest strengths and weaknesses, in ability and in character.

“Peace is on the floor waiting to be picked up!” the German ambassador to the United States pleaded in November 1916. He was right. But with the war in full bloody bloom, peace depended on enough people choosing the less obvious outcome: they had to step onto the road less traveled by.

Originally published by History News Network, 03.14.2021, reprinted with permission for educational, non-commercial purposes.


By giving us your email, you are opting in to the Early Bird Brief.

Prime Minister Asquith’s eldest son, Raymond, had a better idea about the state of the fighting. He was serving at the front. Raymond was then thirty-eight years old, an officer in the Grenadier Guards. Handsome, greatly admired by his contemporaries, and a gifted athlete and poet, Raymond had been a flourishing barrister when the war began, about to begin a glittering political career of his own. When the war began, he immediately volunteered for active service, and by the summer of 1916 he was a seasoned officer, rotating in and out of the line. Raymond had spent time at headquarters, and he frequently dined with senior officers when out of the line, well aware that a staff billet was always there for him if he wanted one. But he felt his place was with his regiment.

One of Raymond Asquith’s duties as an officer was to censor the letters his men wrote home. From them, even by December 1915, Raymond saw that the soldiers were expecting the civilians to end the war. “Nothing will persuade the men that the war is not practically over now and that they are merely marking time out here while the details of peace are being settled,” he wrote a close friend. “I wish I could think so.”

Six months later, by the summer of 1916, Raymond felt a “distinct change” in morale. Even his fellow officers were now “more tired of the war, more frightened of shells and talk[ed] more constantly about the prospects of peace.”

Raymond’s own mood darkened too. His stints in the line were longer and bleaker. “An order has just come out that there is to be no cheering in the trenches when peace is declared,” he wrote his wife. “No one can say that our Generals don’t look ahead.”

Soldiers at the front frequently received the Daily Mail, published by Lord Northcliffe, a conservative cheerleader for the war, a paper that regularly attacked Raymond’s father, the prime minister, so much so that Raymond wrote his wife that he would “rather beat Harmsworth [Northcliffe’s name before he acquired his title] than beat the Germans. He seems to me just as aggressively stupid and stupidly aggressive as they are, and much less brave and efficient.”

Even before the summer offensive began, a number of Raymond’s friends had already been killed. The offensive struck down more. Hearing of another casualty, he replied to a friend, “A blind God butts about the world with a pair of delicately malignant antennae to detect whatever is fit to live and an iron hoof to stamp it into the dust when found.” But, he added, “out here I believe one feels these disasters less than one would at home. If one thinks at all (which rarely happens) one feels that we are all living so entirely on the edge of doom, so liable at any moment to fall in with the main procession, that the order of going seems less important.”

In August, Raymond was almost killed by a trench mortar shell. It hurt his eardrums and put “quite a big dent” in his helmet but left him, he wrote, “not much the worse.”

Raymond did not regard the war as an ennobling experience. He agreed with his wife “about the utter senselessness of war. It extends the circle of one’s acquaintance, but beyond that I cannot see that it has a single redeeming feature. The suggestion that it elevates the character is hideous. Burglary [and] assassination would do as much for anyone.”

Raymond was a good friend of Churchill, whom he saw several times during 1916. He was aware of Churchill’s misgivings about the offensive. He was neither surprised nor resentful to hear, from a wellplaced friend in Whitehall, about Churchill’s memo pronouncing the offensive “to be a murderous failure.”

Raymond had just observed an attack on a part of the line he knew well, “a great disaster. Entirely owing to the folly of generals who, I fear, have not suffered for it.” Instead, the official communiqué “was allowed to pass it off as a moderately successful trench raid instead of an utter failure by 2 divisions.” Some he knew at headquarters thought the offensive was working. As for himself, he wrote, “I wish one could form any idea as to whether our offensive is being a success or not.”

In London, Britain’s leaders were quietly returning to the issue of how to bring the war to an end.

Remembering very well that in May the issue had been put off until after the summer offensive, a strong group was determined to keep the American peace option open.

On August 12, 1916, France’s president, Raymond Poincaré, walked up to the British military headquarters at Val Vion, in northern France, for a private conference with Britain’s king, George V. The king came out to greet him, wearing a beribboned khaki military uniform appropriate to the occasion. President Poincaré joined him in a more somber kind of uniform, a livery of mourning. Poincaré wore black from head to toe, without a bit of adornment or decoration.

To the French public, Poincaré was a symbol of the united war effort, a conservative nationalist who personified France’s “sacred union” to win the great war. That was the public man. But in private, with the distant thunder of the guns in the background, Poincaré had a sober message. He confided to the king that he was in favor of “bringing the war to a conclusion as soon as possible.”

How could this be done? Poincaré had his eye on the American path to peace. He expected the American president, Woodrow Wilson, to offer mediation by October. “When an offer of American mediation comes,” the French president explained, “the Allies should be ready to state their terms for peace.” The French public, he added, was “too optimistic.” The people did not know the full situation. And he also felt “great anxiety in regard to the state of affairs in Russia” -- a country then about seven months away from the revolution that would topple Czarist rule.

Knowing nothing of this French-British exchange, only six days later, on August 18, the chancellor of Imperial Germany sent a momentous and secret cable to his able ambassador in Washington. He and his kaiser were also desperate to end the war and ready for compromise, including the restoration of Belgium. “We are happy to accept a mediation by the President [Wilson] to start peace negotiations among the belligerents who want to bring this about,” the German chancellor instructed. “Please strongly encourage the President’s activities in this regard.”

To avoid giving any impression that his country was weak, the chancellor’s plea was utterly secret. The German mediation request was unconditional.

On August 30, Prime Minister Asquith settled into his chair in the conference room at Number Ten Downing Street for another meeting of the War Committee. Everything, Asquith said, including what he had heard from his French counterpart, Briand, indicated that they “would be face to face with the question of peace before the end of the autumn.”

The next week, Asquith and Hankey went back over to France to visit the troops and meet with Haig. On September 6, Asquith had a chance to visit his son Raymond.

Raymond had been in a training exercise. He rode his horse over to meet his father near the destroyed village of Fricourt. It was a “glorious hot day,” Hankey recalled. Raymond and his father talked and wandered around the rubble of Fricourt, where “literally not one stone [was] left on another.” They went to look at some captured German dugouts.

The dugouts came in handy. Some large German shells started falling nearby. Raymond’s father “was not discomposed by this,” but his chauffeur, who was holding Raymond’s horse, “flung the reins into the air and himself flat on his belly in the mud.” Raymond found it “funny.” The group then went down into one of the old German dugouts, an enormous underground shelter—”wood-lined, 3 storeys, and electric light,” as “safe as the bottom of the sea,” Raymond noted to his wife.

They waited out the shelling, then said their good-byes. The prime minister drove on to lunch with an army commander. Raymond rode back to his unit. The weather, Raymond thought, had indeed “become lovely again—bright sun with a touch of autumnal crispness in the air.”

His father, the prime minister, was greatly heartened by the visit. The British army commander, Douglas Haig, was full of optimism, confident the Germans were running out of reserves. Most of all his son seemed “so radiantly strong and confident that I came away from France with an easier mind.”

Three days after that meeting, Haig’s forces launched another large local attack. Leading his soldiers into no-man’s-land in the first wave of a major assault on September 15, Raymond Asquith took a bullet in the chest. He was dead before he reached the casualty clearing station.

His soldiers mourned. One private wrote to his old schoolmaster, “There is not one of us who would not have changed places with him if we had thought that he would have lived, for he was one of the finest men who ever wore the King’s uniform, and he did not know what fear was.” A sergeant in his regiment told a fellow soldier, “He was the finest officer I ever served under.”

At Asquith’s home in London, his wife, Margot, received the phone call. “I pulled myself together,” she wrote in her diary, “got my handkerchief out of my coat pocket in the hall.” She then called her husband out of his dinner.

He saw my miserable, thin, wet face, and put his arm round me.

“My own darling—Terrible news”—he stopped me. “I know, I’ve known it—Raymond has been killed.”

I nodded….We walked back into the bridge room. Henry sat down on the Chinese red arm-chair put his head on his arms on the table, and sobbed passionately.

Asquith “never fully recovered” from the death of Raymond, “a symbol of a talented generation.” The next month, another of Asquith’s sons was wounded.

More and more that autumn, the prime minister seemed withdrawn, distant, and distracted. His hands were shaky his face sagged. He was drinking too much. He began missing cabinet meetings and became reluctant to offer opinions. To one of his closest friends, Asquith confided, “I feel, for the first time at any rate, bankrupt in pride and life.”

On September 28, the War Committee met as usual. Asquith was there. As usual, Robertson reviewed the military situation. He turned to the situation on the western front. Bonar Law asked “what [their] casualties had been.”

Not counting an attack on Thiepval, Robertson replied, “they had been 125,000 from September 19 to September 26.” Lloyd George thought Thiepval would add another 7,000 to 8,000 to that number.

Then, seemingly out of the blue, the Chief of the Imperial General Staff, General William Robertson, turned the discussion to the issue of how to make peace. (Hankey, taking notes, put a little exclamation mark in the margin.) Robertson raised the possibility of an armistice. Robertson told the group that he had promptly responded to Asquith’s August 30 request for papers on armistice and peace terms. Asquith said they were indeed preparing for “proposals by the President of the United States.”

Thus, in August 1916, as the war’s tragedies felt ever more overwhelming, leaders of the dominant warring powers were readying themselves for negotiation of a compromise peace. All looked expectantly to the one great power still at peace and to its leader, Woodrow Wilson. Wilson had been waiting for this moment like a coiled spring.

Excerpted from “The Road Less Traveled: The Secret Battle to End the Great War, 1916-1917″ by Philip Zelikow, copyright © 2021. Reprinted by permission of PublicAffairs, an imprint of Hachette Book Group, Inc. “The Road Less Traveled” is available for purchase.

Philip Zelikow is the White Burkett Miller Professor of History and J. Wilson Newman Professor of Governance at the Miller Center of Public Affairs, both at the University of Virginia. A former career diplomat, he was the executive director of the 9/11 Commission. He worked on international policy in each of the five administrations from Reagan through Obama. He lives in Charlottesville, Virginia.


Award-winning streaming service of full-length docs for the likes of history buffs, royal watchers, cinema aficionados & train enthusiasts. Visit britishpathe.tv British Pathé now represents the Reuters historical collection, which includes more than 136,000 items from 1910 to 1984. Start exploring!

Vintage Video - King George V's State Visit to France, 1914

Anglo-French diplomatic relations improved steadily in the first decade of the 20th century. The signing of the Entente Cordiale between the two countries in 1904 led to a definite warming in dealings between the governments of the two countries, a development viewed with some concern in Berlin.

To celebrate this improvement in 1914 King George V undertook a state visit to France. His visit was widely regarded as a success with the British monarch keenly welcomed by the French populace during his stay.

Use the player above to view film footage of King George V and Raymond Poincare, the French President, touring Paris in an open carriage, enthusiastically applauded by the city's populace.

Saturday, 22 August, 2009 Michael Duffy

"Bellied" was a term used to describe when a tank's underside was caught upon an obstacle such that its tracks were unable to grip the earth.

- Did you know?


Third Premiership

The economic policies of the Cartel proved unsatisfactory, and in the midst of a serious financial crisis, President Gaston Doumergue recalled Poincaré to head a National Union government. Public confidence was restored, and the franc immediately rose from 50 to 40 per American dollar. The legislature granted Poincaré decree powers to meet crises. He introduced new taxes, mostly indirect he reduced government expenses he created, through constitutional amendment, an inviolate fund to meet bond payments and he increased interest rates. The result was a budgetary surplus and an exchange rate of 25 francs per dollar. The elections of April 1928 brought victory for the National Union, which had supported Poincaré, and, shortly after, he officially devalued the franc, establishing it at one-fifth its prewar value.


Poincare Meets George V

Your Easy-access (EZA) account allows those in your organisation to download content for the following uses:

  • Tests
  • Samples
  • Composites
  • Layouts
  • Rough cuts
  • Preliminary edits

It overrides the standard online composite licence for still images and video on the Getty Images website. The EZA account is not a licence. In order to finalise your project with the material you downloaded from your EZA account, you need to secure a licence. Without a licence, no further use can be made, such as:

  • focus group presentations
  • external presentations
  • final materials distributed inside your organisation
  • any materials distributed outside your organisation
  • any materials distributed to the public (such as advertising, marketing)

Because collections are continually updated, Getty Images cannot guarantee that any particular item will be available until time of licensing. Please carefully review any restrictions accompanying the Licensed Material on the Getty Images website and contact your Getty Images representative if you have a question about them. Your EZA account will remain in place for a year. Your Getty Images representative will discuss a renewal with you.

By clicking the Download button, you accept the responsibility for using unreleased content (including obtaining any clearances required for your use) and agree to abide by any restrictions.


File history

Click on a date/time to view the file as it appeared at that time.

Date/TimeThumbnailDimensionsUserComment
current17:54, 13 April 2015800 × 621 (79 KB) Fæ (talk | contribs) == <> == <<>>/IWM |description = <

You cannot overwrite this file.


Watch the video: Terry Tao,. Small and Large Gaps Between the Primes (June 2022).


Comments:

  1. Andswarian

    I apologise, but, in my opinion, you are not right. I am assured. I can prove it. Write to me in PM, we will discuss.

  2. Macaulay

    There is a site, with an information large quantity on a theme interesting you.

  3. Colbert

    Thanks for your valuable information. I have used this.



Write a message