Le Point de Depart

Upon the boat train which slowly glided into Victoria Station, London, from Folkestone was Foreign Minister Aristide Briand, seven times Premier of France. Upon the station platform, ready to greet his French colleague, was monocled, natty British Foreign Secretary Austen Chamberlain, gifted son of "Brummagen Joe," surrounded by a crowd of officials, French and British.

M. Briand, looking older, slightly more rotund and as disreputable as ever he did, descended from his Pullman car and was met with effusive greetings from his British confrere. These urbanities over, the two statesmen posed for the ubiquitous cameramen, beaming and cracking jokes in French. "Non," he had nothing to say for publication. The two custodians of their respective countries' foreign policies exchanged smiles and followed them up with an exchange of hearty farewells. M. Briand sped away to the Hyde Park Hotel in Knightsbridge. Mr. Chamberlain betook him to his residence in Morpeth Mansions.

Bright and early next morning the French Foreign Minister, obedient to the wishes of King George, paid a visit to Buckingham Palace. For 40 minutes he conversed with the British Sovereign and when, at the end of that time, he emerged between the high iron gates of the Palace, his chin and cheeks cleanly shaved, a wide smile lit his sallow countenance. From then on, everybody took it as a matter of course that his visit was bound to be successful.

From the Palace to the Foreign Office is but a few minutes' drive along the Mall, through the Admiralty Arch and down Whitehall. Thither went M. Briand; there was he joined by le comte de Fleurian, French Ambassador to the Court of St. James's, by M. Philippe Berthelot of the Quai d'Orsay, and by M. Fromageot, French international jurist. Then began conversations between the French Foreign Minister and the British Foreign Secretary to decide upon an answer to Germany's recent note relative to the proposed Rhine Treaty which is to guarantee the status quo on the frontier between France and Germany (TIME, June 22). For this had M. Briand braved La Manche (the English Channel).

A hiatus occurred in the conversations at lunch time. At the French Embassy in Albert Gate House, Hyde Park, a great assemblage of dignitaries rendered homage to M. de Fleurian's cuisine. Most distinguished of the guests was Alanson B. Houghton, U. S. Ambassador to the Court of St. James's, attired immaculately as ever, owlish in his heavy horn-rimmed spectacles. His presence at the political feast, considered a signficant sign of U. S. interest in the security parley, despite unequivocal and official denials, was a topic of discussion for days after. Rightly or wrongly, the U. S. Ambassador was credited with having prepared the way when he was in Berlin for the security proposals which last February emanated from Germany.

The conversations proceeded that afternoon until about 6 o'clock. At the Hyde Park Hotel, M. Briand was besieged by clamorous reporters. To them he said: "The French and British viewpoints regarding the security compact have come materially closer together as a result of today's conversations. I believe--no, you may say I am confident--that one more meeting tomorrow will suffice for us to arrive at an agreement on the wording of the reply to Germany."

In the evening, a dinner was given in honor of M. Briand by Foreign Secretary Chamberlain. Ambassador Houghton was again a guest.

Next day the conversations were ended. Official communiques were issued. Once more the French and British were d'accord, whatever that was supposed to mean. The language of these official notices was couched in vague terms. It gave the impression that the two countries had decided in advance their answer to the proposed security pact and that so far as they were concerned no cloud could shadow their extreme serenity. Actually, this impression was misleading. What had been decided was:

1) The wording of a reply to Germany's last note.

2) To hold more conversations, probably at Geneva, in which Germany would be fully represented.

Precisely what was the substance of the reply to Germany was not ascertainable. As for the proposed conversations, they were at best a point de depart. Tardy correspondence was to give way to official exchanges of opinion, but these bound neither side and might not, as many expected, even accelerate the negotiation of the Rhine security pact. M. Briand evidently had no objection to meeting German Foreign Minister Gustav Stresemann on the banks of Lake Leman; this in itself was a hopeful sign. Mr. Chamberlain also welcomed the opportunity of conducting direct discussions among all of the parties interested, including Belgium. To give the conversations a chance, the legal advisers of the British, French and German Foreign Offices were scheduled to hold a preliminary meeting. The Foreign Ministers would meet at Geneva around Sept. 2, the opening date of the League of Nations Council. It was hoped, probably too optimistically, that an agreement would be reached so that Germany might apply for admittance to the League and that her application might be passed by the Assembly which meets for its annual monthly session on Sept. 7.

Newspapermen tried to drag something more specific from M. Briand when he arrived back at the Hyde Park Hotel. What, for example, did he think of Mr. Houghton's presence at dinner the previous night? The foxy Foreign Minister smilingly replied: "The United States Ambassador wore a very pretty boutonniere."

On the conversations he was equally evasive. He held that conversations, not conference, were the real cure for Europe's ills. Said he, beaming the while: "Conversations are better than conferences for exchanges of views between statesmen. Conferences and notes are too formal. Conferences are not always successful; for instance, the conference at Cannes." The following day M. Briand laid a wreath on the Cenotaph in Whitehall, almost opposite Downing Street. It was inscribed: Au Soldat Inconnu. From Whitehall he went to Victoria, where a vast concourse of people had assembled to cheer and gape. On the platform was Foreign Minister Chamberlain and numerous silk-hatted gentlemen. Newspaper correspondents rushed at him; before they could ask a question, the little Frenchman was saying rapidly in French: "I will give you a new recipe for the improvement of Anglo-French relations. While I have been here I have smoked about 50 cigarets daily But do I smoke French cigarets? Mais non! I smoke half French and half English. I alternate, first French, then English, with mathematical precision."

A few minutes later he had entered the train and was conversing with Mr. Chamberlain through the open window. "Goodbye, Austen," he was reported to have cried as the train pulled out. Mr. Chamberlain dropped his eyeglass, flushed with embarrassment, smiled. He then left the station for Buckingham Palace to report to the King on the result of the conversations.