The Note-Book of an Attache Part 2

[Footnote 1: The French and British armies suffered a crushing defeat at Charleroi on August 22d-23d. As a result they were driven back a distance of 150 miles and only succeeded in making a stand after they had reached a point southeast of Paris.]

The French find a superst.i.tious encouragement in an acrostic which some ingenious journalist has constructed out of the names of the Commanders-in-Chief of the French and British armies. Here it is:

JOF | FRE ____|_____ | FRE | NCH

With Paris unlighted at night, it is an uncanny experience to walk through a great city which is absolutely dark. The Champs-Elysees is probably at present the darkest avenue on earth. All those monumental lamp-posts which used to stand like beacons in the midst of the stream of traffic now shine no more. The sun seldom rises without revealing the ruins of one of these lamps and of an automobile, the two having mutually destroyed each other in the darkness. We do not know why the city is left in gloom. The common interpretation is a necessity to save gas and coal.

I do such a variety of things each day! This morning I managed to get away from the Emba.s.sy for an hour in one of the several automobiles which have been loaned to Attaches and which are driven by their American owners. During that time I arranged for the delivery of twenty thousand francs in small change which I shall take with me on my trip to the detention camps, ordered a lot of printing, and obtained fifteen hundred francs in change for tomorrow's crowd of German and Austrian indigents. I visited the editor of a newspaper and arranged for the correction of an article giving some misinformation about Emba.s.sy affairs, and then ended up by making a verbal report of the morning's work to Mr. Frazier.

_Tuesday, August 25th._ The Military Governor of Paris is now invested with absolute and autocratic powers. He makes what regulations he chooses and is authorized to punish any infraction of his rule with the death penalty. He has taken advantage of his position to inst.i.tute various reforms which have for years been much needed but which have hitherto been persistently blocked by "politics." He is no longer required to argue with bureaucracies or to convince legislatures. He acts without hindrance. He has thus, out of hand, settled some of the great problems with which Paris has been struggling for years. With a stroke of the pen, for instance, he has made it illegal to buy, sell, or possess absinthe. He is said to have destroyed the long menace of the Apache gangs by summarily shooting down all that could be found in Paris. He has by drastic measures suppressed gambling, and has even done away with the slot machines of chance which have so long stood in all the cafes to catch the hard-earned sous of the workmen. It is probable that these reforms will be permanent and will stand even when martial law in Paris is abolished. It is always difficult to accomplish a great reform, but it is often impossible to undo it once it is an accepted fact. If we had real prohibition in America and Woman Suffrage, I hardly think that we should vote to have "whiskey"

brought back or ever disfranchise our women.

_Friday, August 28th._ Public vehicles are now almost un.o.btainable.

Taxicabs are to be secured only after much delay and at exorbitant prices. It has become more and more a waste of time for me to cross Paris on foot each morning and evening and to do much of my Emba.s.sy work at the same disadvantage. I have attempted to solve the difficulty by engaging by the week one of those archaic old horse chaises called fiacres. London has placed a hansom in the British Museum with the other obsolete and historic styles of equipages, but frugal Paris has kept her out-of-date vehicles on exhibition in active use on the boulevards. These conveyances, so recently looked down upon for their slow pace as compared with the speed of taxis, are now restored to something of their former prestige.

The fiacre I have acquired is navigated by Paul, who has been a Paris _cocher_ for thirty-five years, and its one-horse power is furnished by his faithful old horse Grisette. True to type, Paul is stout and jovial. He considers it a great honor to drive for a member of an Emba.s.sy and always sits up very straight on his box, for to come and go on missions concerning "les affaires des Etats-Unis" has imbued him with a great sense of dignity and importance. When waiting in front of the Emba.s.sy among the limousines he maintains a rigid and dignified position and insists that Grisette, for her part, shall hold up her head and stand on all four feet.

Each noon Paul drives Hazeltine and myself down the nearly deserted Champs-Elysees for lunch at the Cafe Royal. We must make an absurd spectacle with so much dignity on the box and a total lack of it behind, for Hazeltine and I, relaxing from the strenuous work of the morning, lounge in the seat with our feet far out in front, as we discuss with great vehemence affairs connected with our Emba.s.sy work.

The pleasure and pride which Paul experiences in his present "position" he shares with Grisette, with whom and of whom he speaks as if she were human. He perorates upon her manifold good qualities, usually ending with the statement that she is "bonne comme du bon pain," while Grisette modestly pretends that she does not hear herself thus praised.

CHAPTER II

THE GERMANS NEARING PARIS

_Sat.u.r.day, August 29th._ Paris feels the oppression of war more and more each day. There have been so many "morts pour la patrie" that everywhere there are families who have been stricken by the loss of a member. This leaven of sorrow gives to the population as a whole a somber tone.

Perfectly frightful stories of German barbarities are circulating.

They are almost unbelievable, but seem to have some confirmation.

Many of the wounded Frenchmen when returning from the front bring trophies of battle, such as German swords, bayonets, and b.u.t.tons. The most prized possession of all is the German spiked helmet. Barring only the scalp of the American Indian, a more significant trophy could not be imagined. It is not only significant but gorgeously handsome.

Moreover, it is everywhere on earth accepted as the symbol of the Prussian militarism.

Today Mr. Herrick sent an Attache with a fast automobile out toward Compiegne, which is thirty-eight miles from the Porte St. Denis. The man was not permitted to approach the town, but from hills on this side he could hear the constant rumble of heavy guns. He returned to Paris giving it as his opinion that a battle was being fought at Compiegne. This, however, is so improbable that he can find no one to credit his report. The idea is really too preposterous! The truth might be that manoeuvres of the French army were in progress, or that the forts around Paris were practising. We have been warned that this might occur. The war was not declared four weeks ago; how then would it be possible for the Germans already to be at Compiegne?

Before they could reach a point so near Paris they must first reduce the triple line of the French frontier fortifications, which are the product of more than forty years of study and labor and form a greater barrier than any ocean. Even were these reduced, the Germans would have to beat back the French active army numbering one and a half million men. Compiegne is no farther from Paris than Peekskill is from New York.

_Sunday, August 30th._ The rumors of evil which yesterday all refused to believe as absolutely incredible are today accepted as facts. No bad news has yet appeared in print, the censor having suppressed even the slightest hint of misfortune. This lack of any definite information has had a disintegrating effect upon the public morale.

Since all official news is denied them, the people add to their previous personal anxiety a ghastly terror of the unknown, multiplied and intensified as it manifests itself in the ma.s.ses, already in a high state of excitement.[2]

[Footnote 2: I have been informed by American officials on duty in Berlin that they have never observed any misstatement of fact, or any essential omission in the _communiques_ of the German Government.

This, during my brief visits within the borders of the Empire, was certainly borne out by my own experience. Defeats are announced as automatically as victories. An ill.u.s.tration of the advantageous effect of this procedure upon public morale and of the disadvantageous effect of the opposite occurred after the Battle of the Marne. The French, who should logically have gained the greatest encouragement, had so learned to distrust their official _communiques_, that they gained no advantage of this kind whatsoever, while the Germans, who ought to have received no moral stimulus from so material a disaster, underwent a fresh _accroiss.e.m.e.nt_ of their patriotic determination as a result of the frank announcement that the war was no longer going "according to specifications."]

Paris knows with a conviction that nothing can alter that the French armies have met defeat at all points along the line. They do not need dates, or names, or numbers; the one terrible fact that the Germans are again nearing the gates of Paris stands out with greater intensity because all details are withheld.

The Bank of Paris has begun to move. I felt it was an historically memorable day when I stood this morning before its great doors and watched the nervous, hurrying messengers endlessly streaming in and out as they loaded a row of trucks with France's money bags. The bearers looked for all the world like a stream of ants carrying their larvae to safety when an ant-hill is broken open.

It is commonly reported that the French Government is planning to flee from Paris. If that actually occurs the papers will doubtless announce it as a "strategic retreat." The members of the various Emba.s.sies are becoming frightfully nervous and most of them will probably leave at the same time.

At the American _Chancellerie_ all goes on quite as usual, partly because we are so busy that there is no time to worry, but princ.i.p.ally because Mr. Herrick is so calm and confident that he sets all the other members a compelling example.

Early this afternoon it was reported at the Emba.s.sy that a German aeroplane had flown over Paris and had dropped several bombs, one of which had fallen near the St. Lazare Hospital. Mr. Herrick sent me out to investigate. I found that there had really been an aeroplane and that it had thrown three bombs, all of which had exploded. Many windows had been broken and one old woman had been killed. Few people, however, had actually seen the aeroplane.

The censor allowed details of the affair to be published in the evening papers, including what purported to be a translation of a note dropped by the German, saying: "The German army is at the gates of Paris. Nothing remains for you but to surrender.--Lieutenant von Heidssen." This is an example of the inexplicable working of the censorship. The people tonight all seemed to believe that the German's note is authentic.

The papers recently published an account of the arrival at a Paris hospital of a wounded Turco who had brought as trophy a German spiked helmet. The peculiar element reported was that the head was still in the helmet. I doubt the truth of this story. It is, however, another example of the extraordinary workings of the censor's mind. He suppresses every vestige of harmless war news on the plea that it might "a.s.sist the enemy," and then permits the publication of such a hate-breeding tale as this.

_Monday, August 31st._ Another German aeroplane flew over the city today and again threw bombs. It arrived at six in the evening. The psychological effect on Paris has been incalculable. Yesterday's Taube went virtually un.o.bserved; it did not seem to need explanation, and its visit could be interpreted as a freakish exploit--the solitary one of its kind. The attack of another Taube today put an entirely different face upon the matter. Nothing better could have been calculated to disquiet the French. They have always considered themselves kings of the air and have felt that, whatever else might be found wanting, at least the French aviators would always rule that element. Today every soul in Paris saw the Taube. Until now anything about the Germans' approach has been rumor and hearsay, but now comes this plain fact for all the world to see; and what more convincing or spectacular evidence of their nearness could be set before the Parisians than a German aeroplane flying over their heads? I think it will prove the spark to light one of the historical explosions of the French people, and that this will probably show itself in extreme panic conditions.

_Tuesday, September 1st._ Panic conditions of the most p.r.o.nounced order exist today. Everyone seems possessed with the single idea of escaping from Paris. A million people must be madly trying to leave at the present moment. There are runs on all the banks. The streets are crowded with hurrying people whose faces wear expressions of nervous fright. The railroad stations are packed with tightly jammed mobs in which people and luggage form one inextricable, suffocating, hopeless jumble.

Cabs are nearly un.o.btainable. When anyone is seen to alight from a vehicle, a flock of men and women instantly gather round it like vultures and there stand poised to see if the cabby is to be paid off.

If the "fare" makes a motion toward his pocket, the mob piles into the carriage, swearing and scrambling. The matter is then arbitrated by the driver who accepts as client the one who offers the largest _pourboire_. In the Rue Condorcet today I saw such a dispute settled with a twenty-franc tip. One of the defeated candidates was a poor dejected woman who had fought like a tigress for the cab and had been ejected with considerable force. She now wept copiously and hopelessly. She explained that she had her baggage and three children to take to the station and that she had been endlessly trying to get a vehicle since the night before, and announced that this was the nine hundredth vehicle "qu'on m'a vole." For one in her emergency I considered this an excusable exaggeration, so I lent her my _cocher_, Paul, and hurriedly went on foot to the Emba.s.sy. My faithful Paul does not desert me, even now when the streets run gold for _cochers_. Last evening an auto carried a family to Tours, returning this morning. For this it received 1500 francs. Thousands upon thousands of refugees from the north are fleeing across Paris by any and every means of transportation left in the city.

Three days ago we doubted the possibility of a battle as near as Compiegne. Today already we feel it quite possible that the Germans will capture Paris, and that within a few days. It is almost certain that our Emba.s.sy will have a tremendous part to play in the capture, for Mr. Herrick will stay in Paris, come what may, unless Washington orders him to leave. It is probable that France will turn over to him her interests in Paris--one might almost say, the city itself.

Another Taube came today and left the usual consignment of three bombs. The aviator arrived promptly at six, just as he did yesterday.

I was amused to see two French policemen rush out of a cafe and fire their revolvers at the so-far-away speck.

_Wednesday, September 2d._ The German bomb-dropping aeroplane arrives each day as regularly as sunset. It is considerate of him to come always at the same hour--six o'clock. One knows when to expect him and is thus able to be promptly on hand to watch the show. It was especially thrilling today. We all stood in the Rue Chaillot in front of the _Chancellerie_, and being on the side of the Trocadero Hill we enjoyed a good view off over the city. The Taube pa.s.sed almost directly over our heads on its way to attack the Tour Eiffel; it flew at an alt.i.tude of about 5000 feet and looked very like a bug crawling across the sky. With our gla.s.ses we could see the German aviator looking down at us, and could distinguish on the under side of each wing the black Maltese cross which all German aeroplanes carry as "uniform."

Off to the east a French machine was slowly mounting above the housetops to give battle. The German sailed over the Tour Eiffel and dropped a bomb. We caught sight of it, a tiny speck floating downwards. After waiting what seemed an unreasonably long time, we heard the faint, m.u.f.fled "boom" of its explosion. All this time, guns in various parts of the city were shooting at the aeroplane; it sounded like firecrackers on the Fourth of July. There are anti-aircraft guns on the different platforms of the Tour Eiffel.

These seemed to be rapid-fire guns which spouted ten shots in about five seconds, and then, after taking a long breath, spouted another ten shots, and so on. The din was extraordinary, but the German aeroplane went serenely on as if utterly unconscious of the thousands of shots of which it was the target.

After throwing his first bomb near the Tour Eiffel, the German described a graceful, sweeping curve off over the Ecole Militaire, and threw another bomb which struck the roof of a house in the Avenue Bosquet. He then turned northward and sailed off in triumph over Montmartre, apparently unscathed. The French machine had meanwhile reached about half the alt.i.tude at which the German was flying. The whole affair was extremely dramatic. All Paris stood open-mouthed in the streets, utterly oblivious to everything but the machine which was creeping across the sky.

The French already take their daily Taube as much as a matter of course as their daily cafe. They cannot help exclaiming in admiration "quel aplomb!" It is now the fourth day that a German aeroplane has pa.s.sed over the French armies, eluded the French machines, and braved a murderous fire from the waiting guns of Paris.

The incidents have been marked by singularly ineffective shooting on both sides. The aeroplanes have thrown a dozen bombs; they have broken windows and roof slates and have killed one old woman. But this has been, as far as I know, the only casualty. On the other hand, the Taubes likewise have escaped unwrecked, in spite of the fact that enough ammunition has been expended against them to have smashed all the aeroplanes in the world. The psychological effect on the Parisians has been immense.