Hoover, Hoover & Herridge

THE PRESIDENCY

Hoover, Hoover & Herridge

One day last week President Hoover arose from his luncheon in the White House and, instead of returning immediately to his office, went upstairs to his dressing room. There with the aid of Boris, his valet, he put on formal morning clothes. At 2:15 Chief Usher Irwin Hood ("lke") Hoover knocked on his door. "The new Canadian Minister is here, Mr. President," he announced. A last pat to his necktie and President Hoover descended the stairs, entered the Blue Room, took a good solid stand near its centre. Usher Hoover threw open the door from the Green Room. In marched square-jawed half-bald William Duncan Herridge, hearty brother-in-law of Canada's Prime Minister Bennett, resplendent in blue jacket lavishly embroidered with blue, gold and white braid. Escorting him was that elegantly correct Harvardman, Richard Southgate, Assistant Secretary of State, who introduced the President and the Minister. All three bowed simulta- neously.

"I have the honor," began Mr. Herridge in a good round voice, "to place in your hands the letter by which His Majesty the King accredits me as his Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary to represent the Dominion of Canada in the U. S., and also the royal letter which terminates the mission of my distinguished predecessor, Mr. Vincent Massey. It is the earnest wish of His Majesty's Government in Canada that the harmonious relations which have long prevailed between the U. S. and Canada shall be maintained and strengthened. ... I look forward, Mr. President, to receiving your friendly support. . . ."

It was now President Hoover's turn to speak. "It gives me pleasure to receive from you the letters by which his Britannic Majesty accredits you. . . . The harmonious relations between Canada and the U. S. will, I am confident, be augmented through your mission to Washing- ton. ... I desire to assure you, Mr. Minister, that you may rely upon my hearty co-operation . . . and to hope that your stay among us will be pleasant."

Both men bowed again. The stiff nothings involved in presenting diplomatic credentials were over. President Hoover went upstairs to change his clothes, get back to his office. Minister Herridge, now an envoy in good standing, returned to his legation, started to pack for a trip to Canada where he will remain all summer.

Don Salvador de Madariaga, a small Basque with a high domelike forehead, piercing beady eyes, and a Scotch wife bigger than he is, landed from the Mauretania last week and proceeded to Washington to present his credentials as the Spanish Republic's first Ambassador to the U. S. His coming increases the literary luminosity of the Washington diplomatic corps about 50%. Though his pen may not have the surpassing grace of French Poet-Ambassador Paul Claudel, Ambassador Madariaga is a writer of first rank, a keen political commentator.

He has a few intimate friends in Spain's Republican Cabinet, but otherwise Ambassador de Madariaga is better known in Washington than in Madrid (45% of all Spaniards over ten years old are illiterate). Born in Corunna 44 years ago, his early career was as an official of the Spanish railroads. Since 1916 he has lived almost continuously abroad, first as a London correspondent, then as a member of the League of Nations Secretariat (Chief of the Disarmament Section), then as professor of Spanish Studies at Oxford. Another reason for the vagueness with which most Madrilenos react to the name of de Madariaga is because he is best known as a writer in English. Ambassador de Madariaga is trilingual. He writes frequent magazine articles in French and Spanish, but his most important books have been in English. Politically Ambassador de Madariaga is a complete internationalist, who, perversely enough, does not believe in the advisability of a Federal European Union. At the time his name was first mentioned as Ambassador to the U. S. (TIME, May 4), reporters stirred a mild flurry by skimming through his magazine articles, picking out some of the pepperiest paragraphs on the subject of U. S. imperialism. Senor Madariaga's opinions of U. S. foreign policy are blunt and to the point, but on the other hand he is just as quick to criticize his own nation or any other.

Last year his book Englishmen, Frenchmen, Spaniards was awarded a prize by the weekly Europe Nouvelle as the best political book of the year. Random de Madariaga observations:

". . . When the Duke of Devonshire's daughter is married, all true Englishmen feel happy. When the Duke of Richmond rides with his hounds, all true Englishmen blow their horn. But the Frenchman holds to his own poet: Mon verre n'est pas grand, mais je bois dans mon verre, and unless he drinks himself, he does not smack his lips."

". . . All the efforts of political propagandists to make the Spaniard feel like a citizen have failed. He feels like a man. ... It follows that the social structure of Spain is bound to be lax, like that of a body the several members of which are stronger than the force of cohesion which keeps them together. . . . No one who knows Spain can have failed to be struck by the impressive amount of individual effort lost in activities at cross purposes or, even worse, in vacua."

In the U. S., Ambassador de Madariaga counts among his intimate friends Andres Segovia, the concert guitarist, and Dhan Gopal Mukerji, Hindu rebutter to Mother India. He is, moreover, one of those writers who has enjoyed the hospitality of Mr. & Mrs. Thomas William Lament.

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