Peace in Paris

It was what is called an uneventful trip. The ship (long, tall, narrow, beautiful Ile de France) lurched. There were no accidents (except for 200 chairs and 12 people which toppled upon each other at a cinema), no thefts, no speed records.

There were no more than a normal number of celebrities. One of them met, shook hands with 22 Smith College girls. He and his wife inspected the ship. He liked the Punch and Judy shows; she, the kitchen. Stewards, officers knew who they were. Many passengers did not. They were Mr. and Mrs. Frank Billings Kellogg, en route to Paris.

Before they reached Paris, the ship paused, lights twinkling, at Plymouth, England. Plymouthites boarded, cheered Mr. Kellogg, cheered Canadian Prime Minister William Lyon Mackenzie King, also a passenger.

Then spoke Secretary of State Kellogg: "I believe it is a great step forward in civilization--a great moral step."

Premier King agreed.

They were referring to a document known as The Multilateral Treaty to Renounce War as an Instrument of National Policy--Author: Mr. Kellogg. The ship then moved on.

Before he could reach Paris, Mr. Kellogg had to go to Havre. He stood on the deck, last week, as the ship slipped into the narrow harbor. From where he stood, he could see, at the right, the houses of Havre which seem flat like the backdrop of a theatre. He could also see, to the East, the sun. He could not see an object upon which the sun's rays were playing.

But later he was presented with that very object by M. Leon Meyer, Mayor of Havre. It was a gold pen, nearly a foot long, a half inch in diameter, surmounted by a turquoise, and made by famed Jeweler Andre Falize of Paris. Visitor Kellogg accepted it graciously, found it heavy, noticed his initials engraved upon it, and read the inscription on its green leather case: Si Vis Pacem Par Pacem (If you wish for Peace, prepare for Peace).

Again spoke the U. S. Secretary of State, making a reference to French Foreign Minister Aristide Briand, granting him inspirational credit in the authorship of the treaty. Twenty-five minutes later Mr. Kellogg was in a train which rattled into the Gare St.-Lazare, Paris, 45 minutes ahead of schedule, to the discomfiture of newsmen, of whom only one, forlorn, was present. U. S. Ambassador Myron Timothy Herrick, prominent welcomer, arrived at the station late.

Paris made a brave show of tricolor and stars and stripes, and Montmartre, glad of an excuse, opened earlier, closed later.

But Mr. Kellogg chose to go to the American hospital at Neuilly, near Paris, there to call on U. S. Chief of the Division of Western European Affairs James Theodore Marriner of Visitor Kellogg's own Department of State, paver of the Kellogg way into Paris, and shortly after seriously ill.

Thereafter Mr. Kellogg lunched with Ambassador Herrick, spoke with M. Aristide Briand ("a pleasant talk"), again dined at the Herrick table, and so to bed.

Pleased was France the next day when Mr. Kellogg knelt unostentatiously at the tomb of the Unknown Soldier, under the Arc de Triomphe.

Sunday dawned. Eve of the signing. In Canada, Germany, elsewhere, pastors thought of the French capital to which their captains and kings had departed to outlaw what has often been the business of captains and kings. In Toronto, Canon Plumptre dedicated the service of St. James's Cathedral to the signing of the treaty. Later, militaristic Author Rudyard Kipling's Recessional was sung. In Berlin, General Superintendent of Evangelical Churches Herr Doktor Martin Bibilius spoke in the same wise but made no mention of Imperialist Kipling.

Selected as the place to sign was the Clock Hall, on the Quai d'Orsay. Implements selected were the Havre pen, an inkwell once used by Minister to France Benjamin Franklin and French Foreign Minister Comte de Vergennes and a large single sheet of paper.

Tactful were the proceedings. The word was whispered to Europeans not to appear in glittering finery which might dim the effect of Signatory Kellogg's sober apparel.

They could not keep Jules, doorman for M. Briand, from appearing in all his medals. Jules said "War is abominable, but the army ... is fine." Also spoke Jules, "This American, too, Mr. Kellogg. Perhaps he will get to understand France better, like the American Ambassador does, and will make jokes and laugh like Mr. Herrick does with M. Briand."

First to sign was Herr Doktor Stresemann (Allemagne), next Visitor Kellogg (Amerique, Les Etats Unis d'), then Foreign Minister Paul Hymans (Belgique), and so on alphabetically. Baron Cushendun signed twice, once for Great Britain, once for India.

The signing took ten minutes (3:45 to 3:55).

Secretary Kellogg smiled, fidgeted. He and the other signatories were taken aback by the barrage of "talking movie" cameras which had previously been installed in the Salle des Horloges.

The cameras use brighter lights, need glass partitions or windows to prevent recording the clicking of the machines, boast much more involved paraphernalia than ordinary cinemachines. Greater conveniences exist in Hollywood, yet many a cinemactor has blanched before his first "talkie" ordeal. Difficult therefore was the role of the polyglot actors in Paris. And difficult also the job of the cameramen stumbling over and struggling with old rose-covered chairs and large horseshoe table.

M. Briand manfully braving the pinkish white glare of the flood lights made a speech which was later translated into English. He returned compliments to Secretary Kellogg and paid homage to first signator Gustav Stresemann, Foreign Minister of Germany.

After, the signing delegates bowed to smiling Premier Raymond Poincare and went to the garden for tea. Outside an enthusiastic crowd cheered.

While the captains and the kings sipped their tea, pages, pressmen, and cameramen left the hall. The camera lights were switched off. The hall became dark.