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None of these conditions appeared in an official announcement last week, all were reported by British and U. S. newspapers. Even before the German emissaries left Berlin came a blunt statement from London:
"France's demand that control be established over German customs as one of the conditions in French participation in a loan to Germany will not be acceptable to the British Government."
Forced Smiles. The tenseness of the situation was obvious. Editors and statesmen all over Europe adopted the old U. S. device of elaborate optimism in the face of a crisis.
At Berlin's Friedrichstrasse railway station a great silent crowd saw off the first German Chancellor ever to visit Paris on an official mission.* As the Warsaw-Paris express pulled out a few strident voices called hopefully, "Alles Gute! Gluckliche Reise!" ("Good luck; Pleasant Journey!")
On the train Chancellor Brüning and Foreign Minister Curtius insisted to reporters that they were going to Paris with full liberty of action.
"There have been no demands and no concrete proposal," said the Chancellor.
"We would not be on this train if any such demands had been made," added the Foreign Minister.
They staggered down the jolting train to the dining car, paid for their meal with French francs.
"Are you accepting German marks on this train?" asked a correspondent when the statesmen had left.
"No," said the brown-jacketed steward, sweeping cash into his little tin box, "but we will take them today if they're offered."
In Paris Premier Laval, Foreign Minister Briand and a dozen other French officials and the staff of the German Embassy were all at the Gare du Nord clutching the silk hats of diplomacy. There were a few jeers, a few shouts of Vive La France! Many more cried hopefully, "Vive La Paix."
In London, the Hoover Moratorium committee of experts, almost forgotten by newshawks, met and immediately adjourned. There was nothing for them to do while Europe's statesmen remained cloistered in Paris. Just what was happening in Paris reporters did not learn, though the air was thick with rosy generalities.
Smiling hard, Chancellor Brüning had a private interview with Premier Laval. Henry Lewis Stimson had conversations with British Foreign Secretary Henderson and M. Laval, in the course of which he defined the difference between a Conversation and a Conference:
"Mr. Henderson, as I understand it, Conversations are when you wear a blue suit and I a grey one, but a Conference is when we both wear frock coats."
The German delegation called after dinner at the U. S. Embassy. Shortly after their arrival stenographers were hastily summoned. No one wore a frock coat: it was apparently just a Conversation.
On Sunday devout Catholic Brüning attended mass at Notre Dame des Victoires, listened attentively to a sermon on the advantages of peace. Messrs. Stimson and Mellon left for London.
Statement. Monday morning came a joint statement from Chancellor Brüning and Premier Laval. Seldom has an official bulletin said so little so optimistically: