HERRICK
On the morning of September 3, 1914, an "official statement," so
called, was inserted by the American Ambassador, Myron T. Herrick, in
the Paris edition of the _New York Herald_. This announcement read:
"The American Ambassador advises, as he has done before, that all
Americans who can go, leave Paris, for obvious reasons."
The French Government was then most anxious to get every foreigner
possible out of Paris. A siege was imminent and the food question
might become very grave. Preparations were made for taking out the
British residents. Mr. Herrick arranged with General Galliéni, then the
Military Governor, for trains to transport a thousand of them a day,
the British Government furnishing the money.
I now have Mr. Herrick's permission to state for the first time,
that the American Embassy was then in receipt of a telegram from Mr.
Gerard, our Ambassador in Berlin, in which he said in substance that
the German General Staff "advises you and all Americans to leave Paris
at once by Rouen and Havre."
For a considerable length of time there was practically no doubt that
there would be a siege, and very many believed it would be followed by
a German entry into Paris. What happened at Louvain seemed reasonably
likely to be repeated at the Louvre; in fact, it was well known to the
Government that the German plan was to blow up Paris section by section
until the French were forced to capitulate.
When the ministry changed and Delcassé and Millerand came into power,
there was a change also in policy, and it was determined that the city
should be defended.
On the morning of September second, the President of the Republic
summoned Mr. Herrick to the Elysée, to thank him for remaining in
Paris. He added that "We propose to defend the city at the outer gates,
at the inner gates, and by the valor of our troops, and there will be
no surrender."
Under these circumstances the advice to Americans was inserted in
the _Herald_. I called on Mr. Herrick immediately after the notice
was written. He said to me: "What explanation can be made if no
such warning is given, and if there is a siege, with many killed and
wounded, in face of the situation as it is to-day, and of the warning
telegram I have received from Berlin?"
The question has since been asked, sometimes critically, as to why
this warning was given, since after all the Germans did not enter
Paris. I have therefore given these heretofore unpublished facts at
the beginning of this chapter, in order that it shall be known just
how faithfully our ex-ambassador guarded his trust to the American
people, to give an insight into the character of the man who was easily
the most remarkable figure in Paris at the beginning of the war, who
was not only the rock upon which the thousands of Americans leaned so
heavily, but was also an outstanding favorite of the Paris public.
On one of the nights just preceding mobilization, when the boulevards
were at the zenith of their frenzy, I looked out my office window and
saw an open carriage, with footmen wearing ambassadorial livery and
cockades, driving slowly along the Boulevard des Capucines. Voices
snarled in the crowd. Certain ambassadors were not popular in Paris
in those days; so just who might this ambassador be, at that moment
straining his eyes to read a paper under the electric arc lights?
He looked up as he heard the hoots directed at himself--then smiled and
shouted something at the crowd.
"Ah, l'Ambassadeur Americain!" they passed the word. Then rose cries
of "Vive l'Amérique!--Vive Herrick!" Men jumped on the carriage steps
and Mr. Herrick shook their hands. Banter was exchanged on all sides,
and cheers followed him down the boulevard. The Paris public felt then
what they came to know later, that he liked them almost as much as "his
Americans." They knew, when the French Government went to Bordeaux,
that the American Embassy remained--that the eye of the great neutral
republic would see what happened should the Germans enter their city.
The later significant comment made by Mr. Herrick, when a German taube
dropped bombs on a spot he had just passed, that "A dead ambassador
might be more useful than a live one," has been written in the
history of France. And when the war is over I believe that the names
of Franklin, Jefferson and Herrick will constitute a triumvirate of
American ambassadors to France, that all French school children of the
future will be taught to remember and respect.
I passed much time at the Embassy during the first weeks of war, for
it was a real center of news for an American newspaper. And I remember
quite distinctly a statement that I made at home during one of the
rare moments when I was able to reach it and which I repeated many
times afterwards. It was a simple "Thank God that Myron T. Herrick is
the American Ambassador." To the mild inquiry "why?" I could only say:
"Because he is such an honest-to-God sort of man."
Mr. Herrick was undoubtedly shrewd in his friendships for newspapermen
and he was clever in his use of them. But he always knew that we
understood his cleverness and he always saw to it that we got value
received in the way of "copy" for the praise that was often bestowed
upon him as the result of it.
Mr. Herrick often said to us, in a manner quite casual, things that he
had thought over carefully before our arrival. He knew just how those
cables would look in the newspaper columns, and what the effect would
be upon the reader, long before he handed out the subject matter. But
if I ever argued to myself that I was receiving a rather _intime_
portrait of a clever and an astute diplomat, I could always honestly
say, especially during the eventful days I am attempting to describe,
that he was one man in Paris whose poise was undisturbed by the rapid
succession of giant shocks, and that all the things which he did and
said were to his everlasting credit and honor.
The American correspondents were sometimes referred to as "journalistic
attachés" of the Embassy. We went there regularly, and it was ordered
that our cards be taken to "His Excellency" the moment that we arrived.
He sometimes revealed to us "inside information" which, had we been
able to print it, would have been, to say the least, sensational. On
one occasion when he did not extract the suspicion of a promise that
I preserve secrecy, Mr. Herrick told me a story which, if published
to-day, would cause one of the biggest sensations of the war. But it is
a story that can be printed only when the war is over, and perhaps not
then, unless Mr. Herrick himself then gives permission.
Since leaving Paris, however, he has "released for publication" some
things that could not for various reasons be printed at that time. For
instance, when the French Government moved to Bordeaux, the American
banks in Paris were inclined to follow them and in fact did send
considerable amounts of money there. Mr. Herrick told them that he
wished them to remain; that their services were necessary to carry
on the relief work for the German and Austrian refugees, and other
charities of which he was in charge. He told them they might use the
Embassy cellar for their money, that there was a row of vaults across
the cellar and under the sidewalk. At one time, when the German peril
was most extreme those vaults contained more than three million dollars
in gold, which was guarded night and day by six marines from the U.S.S.
_Tennessee_.
Also, in order to avoid panic, we could not print at that time, that
the Embassy expected any day a rush of refugees; Mrs. Herrick had
stocked the Embassy cellars with provisions for a thousand persons
for several weeks. Mrs. Herrick, too, proved herself an excellent
executive, for not only did she take this entire burden of preparing
for the Americans, should the Germans enter Paris, but at the same
time she organized a hospital at the American Art Club and vigorously
assisted French as well as American charities.
I feel now that a sufficient period has passed for the publication in
more detail of some of the memorable interviews that took place in
the private room of the Embassy. At the time some of them were printed
in the form of short cable-grams, but more often lost in the rush of
events.
I shall never forget a talk that took place just two days before the
declaration of war.
Mr. Herrick was sitting at his big, flat-topped desk smoking a
cigarette and looking out of the open window. He waved his hand toward
the cigarette box as he greeted me and pointed at a chair. He continued
looking out of the window, but I knew that he saw nothing. There were
no preliminaries; only one subject interested every mind in Paris.
"What do you know?" I asked.
"It's bad," he replied.
"Any fresh developments?"
"None you don't already know--but come again to-night and I'll tell you
anything I learn."
"What will you do with the Americans--the town is full of them? What
about them if it comes?" I next asked. We always referred to the war as
just "it."
"Take care of 'em," he announced briefly--then a pause; and he laughed.
"Don't know yet that they'll need it--let's hope it won't come."
"But you expect it?"
He looked me directly in the face as he slowly answered:
"Yes--it's only a question of days--or hours."
We both drew long breaths.
"And--" I began; but he went on talking slowly and heavily.
"It's what the Orient has waited for--waited for all these
centuries--the breaking down of Occidental civilization--" He drew
himself up with a jerk. "But that's too much like pessimism. Have
a cigarette. I've got to keep smiling, you know. That's part of an
ambassador's job."
And he did keep smiling. There were few moments during all those days
when there was not a smile upon his face and an honest welcome in his
manner. But once I saw him angry.
He was furiously angry at certain information I had brought to the
Embassy. It was the first day after the military order that all
foreigners residing in Paris should register at their local police
commissariats within twenty-four hours. The city was no longer a city
officially. It was an intrenched camp. Only military law prevailed.
The penalty for not obeying orders was severe, and for the thousands
of Americans to obey the order in question was manifestly impossible.
I myself had no police permit--not even a passport. I had no time to
go near a police station. My wife telephoned that at our commissariat
the line of waiting foreigners was about eight hundred. She flatly
declined to take her turn--permit or no permit. I suggested that she go
home; but later I heard disquieting rumors, that there had been several
arrests of foreigners unable to show a _permis de séjour_. I did not
blame the police, for the city was full of spies; but I could see no
good reason why the Americans should suffer and I went full speed to
the Embassy to put the facts before the Ambassador.
His face changed color. His hands gripped the sides of his chair.
"Say that over again," he said quietly.
I repeated. Suddenly both his hands left the arms of his chair, and
doubled into fists, crushed down upon his desk.
"By God," he shouted, half rising, his jaw thrust forward. "By God,
they won't arrest any of _my_ people."
He pushed a button on the desk, at the same time calling the name of
one of the Embassy secretaries. Rapidly and explosively outlining the
situation, the Ambassador finished with the order:
"Now you get to the Foreign Office quick; and let them know that if
one American is arrested for not having his papers, until this rush at
the commissariat is over, it means trouble--that they'll answer to me
for it."
I believe this incident more correctly illustrates the character of
the ex-ambassador than anything one could say or write about him.
When he came first to France, with a reputation as a successful Ohio
politician, no one knew whether he was a real diplomat or not. I do
not believe Mr. Herrick knew himself; but I do not believe that either
then or later he ever thought much about it. He had sufficient _savoir
faire_ to make him greatly admired and respected by the French people,
and his record proves whether or not he was a good diplomat. But there
were moments, such as the one I have described, when he did not stop to
consider whether or not an ambassador was supposed to be a diplomat.
I can picture other ambassadors I have known going over in their
minds the rules of diplomacy and then delicately, oh, how delicately,
approaching the subject. Herrick sometimes rode roughshod over all
rules of diplomacy. He did it successfully, too--for there were no
Americans arrested in France for not having their _permis de séjour_.
I have seen multi-millionaires standing in line at the Embassy, waiting
their turn to get temporary passports; and I have seen powerful
politicians and trust magnates waiting in the hall outside that famous
private room, while Mr. Herrick talked to a little school teacher from
Nebraska who had arrived earlier in the morning and secured a position
ahead of them in the line.
I have seen him walk through the salons of his residence, which he
kept open night and day to hundreds of Americans who felt safer just
to be there, smiling, shaking hands and telling stories, although I
knew he had not slept for twenty-four hours. And I have waked him up
at midnight to tell him details concerning American refugees and their
suffering which only he could alleviate and which he did alleviate
without sleeping again until the work was done.
I witnessed many things in company with Mr. Herrick behind the scenes
of the mighty drama as it was unfolding; most of them I am sure it
would not be good "diplomacy" on my part to repeat. But all of them
combined to make more fervent my thanks to the Almighty that in those
days Myron T. Herrick was the American Ambassador to France.