By this time France was alive to Lindbergh; America was waking up.
At the Aero Club of France he made his first speech. His precise laconic diction was one more step forward in the phenomenon of Lindbergh. The speech was printed widely in America. The Club was jammed that day and Minister of War Paul Painlevé, surrounded by fifty of the leading aviators of France, received the guest of honor. When the time came Herrick quietly leaned over and told Lindbergh he must respond. Whereupon the latter rose and said that Nungesser and Coli had attempted a far greater thing than he when they took off from Paris for New York. Their difficulties had far exceeded his. In any event he urged France not to give up hope. Nothing could have been more tactful.
Ambassador Herrick’s speech which followed emphasized the strengthened goodwill between France and America. “This young man from out of the west brings you better than anything else the spirit of America,” he said. “His exploit shows you that the heart of the United States beats for France. It was needed at this moment that the love of these two great people should manifest itself, and it is this young boy who has brought that about. After his European trip is over he will go back to America and he will be able to tell them as no other man could that France really loves the people of the United States.”
Thus was the idea of “ambassadorship without portfolio” initiated. When press and people, and especially statesmen, began to see how the current strain between France and America was slackening as a result of Lindbergh’s visit, the idea grew doubly strong.
On the following day he went to a large luncheon of 600 Americans at the American Club. On Wednesday he visited the French Chamber of Deputies. There was no session in progress, yet most of the members present followed him to the reception room of the President’s residence. Like ferment in wine, Lindbergh’s personality was working hour by hour.
Here again the increased cordiality between France and America became the keynote of the interchange. The adored General Gouraud said: “It is not only two continents that you have united, but the hearts of all men everywhere in admiration of the simple courage of a man who does great things. … You and your youth belong to that glorious band of which M. Bleriot standing here beside you was one, and which has opened the great spaces. We greet you also in the name of those others of your countrymen who, in the Lafayette Escadrille, died here for France—who, like you, helped to frame that unalterable fraternity, that indissoluble friendship which unites our two peoples.”
In like vein but with an eye to practicality Lindbergh replied:
“Gentlemen, 132 years ago Benjamin Franklin was asked: ‘What good is your balloon? What will it accomplish?’ He replied: ‘What good is a new born child?’ Less than twenty years ago when I was not far advanced from infancy M. Bleriot flew across the English Channel and was asked ‘What good is your aeroplane? What will it accomplish?’ Today those same skeptics might ask me what good has been my flight from New York to Paris. My answer is that I believe it is the forerunner of a great air service from America to France, America to Europe, to bring our peoples nearer together in understanding and in friendship than they have ever been.”
The speaker’s abrupt but unmistakable sincerity made a profound impression upon his hearers.
It is impossible to do justice to the full Paris visit. Yet it is not difficult even now to sense the ever-increasing aura of popularity and affection that surrounded Lindbergh wherever he went.
He lunched with Bleriot, the first man to fly across the English Channel, who presented him with a piece of the propeller of that famous plane of early days. He had a notable visit with Marshal Foch. He went to the Invalides surrounded by an admiring crowd. He went to the home of Marshal Joffre. He attended a formal lunch with Minister Briand.
Meanwhile a growing avalanche of mail was descending upon the Embassy. There were startling business offers running into millions of dollars. Cables from all parts of the world urged Lindbergh to write this or that, or agree to appear at highly remunerative rates under any and all circumstances. He did not handle this mail or accept any of these offers. He could not do the former, and he would not do the latter. But he was not cynical; only gravely dubious about the results of his original enterprise getting so far out of his control.
On Thursday of that Paris week came the official reception by the City. By this time the popularity of the boy held full sway. It is said that half a million people lined the streets through which the flier drove in company with his host, the Ambassador.
At the City Hall, Lindbergh received the Gold Medal of the Municipality of Paris. In a brief speech he told the Council that he believed his flight was the forerunner of a regular commercial air service between the United States and France. He added that Nungesser and Coli would have voiced the same thought if they had landed in America.
Ambassador Herrick then made one of his finest and most widely quoted speeches. “I am not a religious man,” he said, “but I believe there are certain things that happen in life which can only be described as
