possibly take another car, and they said yes, there was just room--but
that we'd have to take the car out before 7.30 in the morning because
the car in back of it was to leave at that time. It didn't seem as
though we could bear it. I suggested, although I knew it was wild (Marje
is too mechanical for words), that we leave the brake off and put logs
under the wheels and that he just give it a shove at 7.29 the next
morning and roll it down the incline into the street. By Jove, he
agreed. We slept peacefully that night and called for the car at a
quarter of nine the next morning, as we always do.
Marje discovered that her passport had run out, and as it is always a
good thing to have about, we chased over to the Embassy after Saturday
morning conference and had it renewed. She was off, too, for a sudden
trip to the devastated towns, and we realized that we were to be
separated for two whole days. You know, it was the first time since
Bordeaux. I felt widowed, and she thought it was going to be a crazy
party and was off the whole idea, anyway. But she left at three sharp
and I went and had a shampoo. The Ambulance men who had brought over the
candy from Mrs. Crocker had asked Marje to dine at the Chinese Umbrella
that night, and she hadn't been able to let them know she couldn't make
it; so just before she left I promised to take Mrs. Allen and Mary, with
whom I was going to spend the night, to dinner there and ward the men
off. The bank was closed, and Marje had had to borrow some money from
me. This and the dinner don't sound related, but they were.
I was pleased that the Allens would go with me--I run over there quite a
lot and they always have something extra for me, and are kindness
itself, anyway. But I discovered I had just twenty francs to my name.
Now the Chinese Umbrella has the best straight American food in town,
but it is expensive, as everything is nowadays. I never was so nervous.
I met the Ambulance boys safely enough and painted a colorful picture of
Marje's departure and they were successfully thrilled.
But for dinner--we had orangeade and fried chicken, slipping around our
plates with no vegetables (happily the asparagus had been used up--also
the potatoes!); cornbread, and finally strawberry shortcake. When pay
time came I stepped into the office planning to throw myself on Miss
Pabris's (the proprietor's) neck if all were not well. She knows me
because I got a job through Mrs. Shurtleff for one of my protégées
washing dishes at the Chinese Umbrella. But it was nineteen francs. I
pulled out my francs, and largesse with a stray fifty centimes, and
stepped proudly out--not knowing where Metro tickets, not to mention a
taxi, were to come from.
As we passed the kitchen windows a voice hailed me and there was Mme.
Beau, my friend and protégée, with a dishtowel clutched in one hand, and
five francs extended in the other. The poor thing owed it to me, she
said. I had utterly forgotten it; part of some money I had lent her when
her baby died. Mrs. Shurtleff thought it was better to have her pay part
of it back.
Well, there was supply--what cared I for the Metro? We looked for a
taxi, but there was none to be had. So I contented myself with buying
three tickets as pompously as possible.
On Monday, hard work moving furniture and taking packages with two
amusing Ambulance boys, just landed, to help me. One from Montana, the
best-looking thing you could hope to see, was equally entertaining on
the subject of the "Harvard Sisters" who had come over on the boat with
him, and of his Paris experiences.
From tea-time on, I was all ears to hear Marje drive up. Finally she
came. About 8.30 it was. Such a lot as she had to tell. Perhaps I shall
have something first hand for you some day, but certainly what she said
was worth talking about. The party was made up of two carloads; among
them, Mr. and Mrs. Will Irwin, and Mrs. Norman Hapgood.
Now I could never drive a car over such roads or take care of the engine
or tires if there should be any trouble (Marje had three punctures), so
my idea is to go as a journalist and take the same route as this party
did. Do you think, Father, you could get me a chance? Think over your
newspaper acquaintance.
Devotedly,
ESTHER.
XX
FROM MARJORIE
12 Place Denfert-Rochereau, July 4, 1917.
DEAREST MOTHER AND DADDY:--
It is eleven o'clock in the morning, and by all rights I should be
working in the Vestiaire, but here I am at home writing you. I'll tell
you why. First place, it is the 4th of July, and I am away from home for
the first time; second place, it is Wednesday, and I want to get this
letter off today, so that you will surely get it.
Everything is most delightfully upset at the Vestiaire. Rootie and I
turned up for work as usual this A.M., and found that the balcony of the
Arts Décoratifs building--on rue Rivoli--had been offered to the workers
at the Vestiaire this morning, to watch the parade of our soldiers! We
just all tumbled into the two cars as fast as we could,--Dr. Shurtleff
coming in ours,--and with Rootie driving, we followed Miss Curtis as
fast as we could over to the Louvre. When we arrived at the entrance to
the garden, under those old gray stone arches, there were many policemen
guarding the way, and they all pointed down the street, saying that we
must follow the Quai, but Mrs. Shurtleff leaned out of the car and said
that we were an American oeuvre, and that we were going to see our
soldiers from special seats, so they let us through. We put the cars in
one corner of the garden and then went through to the Arts Décoratifs
building. The balcony was one flight up, and almost on the corner of rue
des Pyramides, where the statue of Jeanne d'Arc is. We could see the
procession as it rounded the corner at the Place de la Concorde, and
watch it out of sight down the rue Rivoli. The sidewalks were already
lined with people, and the balconies all along were full of people. Just
as we could hear the drums faintly, and could just make out the Garde de
Paris on their horses, with their white belts and shining brass helmets,
we heard an ah-h--run through the crowd. A flying machine--one of the
smaller French ones, with the tricolor painted on each wing--was making
circles and diving down low, and soaring up again over the soldiers as
they crossed the Concorde. The pilot was magnificent to watch, but very
reckless, for he flew so low and turned such tremendously quick curves
that if anything went wrong, he would have hurt many people, and, of
course, not had a chance himself. However, it was wonderful to watch,
and got the crowd thoroughly excited. It made me think of the
performance the first man gave who went up to show us--when we were at
Chaudon, seeing the American Escadrille. When he came down, he got fits
from the captain for taking such chances! After a short wait, they came,
and the crowd just went mad: first, the Garde Républicaine, on
wonderful-looking horses; then a French band, all in uniform, of course,
and much to our joy they struck up a tune just at our corner. They were
such a fine-looking lot of men--short, thick-set, hardy, jovial chaps,
each one with a rose either pinned to his coat or stuck in his helmet
strap. The few soldiers who formed sort of a guard for the band had
their roses stuck in the end of their rifles!
After these came the Americans!! Oh, it was great! A score of mounted
officers leading, with one French capitaine in the middle, and then the
band, with a drum major and all! It was too thrilling to ever put down
on paper. The crowd just howled and shouted and jumped up and down,
threw flowers, and we on the balcony yelled as loud as we could. Then
another very fine-looking officer, and right behind him the soldiers.
Not so very many, only one battalion,--the Sixteenth Infantry, the flag
said,--but a fine-looking lot of soldiers. They were noticeably taller
than the French, were very thin, and all much tanned. I think they must
have been in Mexico. The crowd let the first half march past, but the
last division, which for some reason did not have their rifles, were
surrounded by the mob, which just carried them along, all good-naturedly
shouting and pushing, so that the ranks were broken badly in some
places. This did not add to the looks of the parade from a military
point of view, but it was so typically French. They simply had to join
in, and the police were powerless, so that the end of the parade was a
seething mass of soldiers, Boy Scouts, men and women, with a few police
trying vainly to keep the people back. I shall never forget it. It was
magnificent. I hate to think that our country has come into it finally,
and I couldn't help thinking all the time that these men, who are
walking down the street so gayly now, will probably go to the front and
be killed soon; what for? It does seem so wicked, but the French need
something to put new enthusiasm into them, for even that undying thing,
French courage, is showing signs of wearing out after these three years,
and now the American soldiers actually getting here does thrill them. It
was so thrilling to see a French crowd get so excited. You know how it
just carries you away to hear thousands yelling and clapping. It was
mighty interesting. I imagine it is about the first time that "The
Fourth" has been celebrated in Paris. After it was over, we came back to
the Vestiaire, and settled down to a morning's work. I told Dr. S. that
we ought to have a holiday this afternoon, and he agreed; so he talked
to Mrs. S. and we are to have the whole P.M. free! I had left my
typewriter at home, so I brought my cards and things home, and am going
to do them after lunch and to-night. They can wait a little, and I do
want to get this off so.
I will take a chance on the censor reading this, and tell you the little
that we know over here. In many ways we are as much out of touch with
things as you are. France does seem to be really feeling the war more
than she has admitted hithertofore. It is evident in the way the people
talk in the Metro and at the restaurant and everywhere. It is shown in
the constant strikes--the women too. This last strike of the taxis is in
some ways a good thing--the Metro now runs all night, or rather until
midnight, which is much more convenient. Russia, from all one hears, is
out of the game, for the present, at any rate. She is not to be reckoned
with either way. Dr. G. feels that the Allies are lucky if she does not
make a separate peace. Mr. A. feels that if the Allies with our help,
mostly moral help, can give Germany a big scare in the next few weeks,
maybe there will be an upheaval there, and that the Kaiser will
abdicate, and then every one will be ready to talk peace. If not, and if
the Germans get a good harvest,--and there is every prospect of their
doing so,--he feels that she has won; that she can go on forever. Every
one now admits, even French officers, that the spring offensive was a
failure, and the loss of life was something terrible, worse than Verdun;
also that the Germans have the upper hand now in a military way. The
submarine question you can get little news about. England runs that
news, and so one can tell nothing. Certainly there are a great many more
losses than they will acknowledge. For instance, Dr. Gibbons told me
that several times he will see in the German lists certain boats sunk
many days before the British publish it. There is no doubt about it, the
French are lacking many things, principally flour and sugar. The bread
over here is very bad now, very dark, coarse, and often sour. We buy
bread baked in loaves from a pain de santé store, which is conveniently
located on rue Ernest Cresson. Inasmuch as London, at any rate, was much
more poorly off than Paris when I was there in January, it is reasonable
to suppose that they are still worse off, particularly as the Germans
have sunk more English ships than any other nation's. It seems to be
hard to get any definite reports as to the conditions in England; no one
comes to France via England any more!
It is pretty late now, so I will stop. Lots and lots of love from your
daughter,
MARJE.
XXI
FROM ESTHER
Place Denfert-Rochereau (XIV), July 23, 1917.
DEAREST MOTHER:--
It is great to know that you are all so happy at Bailey's and
accomplishing so much for us. Little sister, sitting with hands folded
on the other side of Periscope Pond, wonders why the youngsters don't
amuse themselves sometimes by erecting, or by listening to Charles
Thomas erect, a good spring-board. We've needed one long; and if you
don't think that summer posterity would be grateful, then you don't know
this member of it as well as I think you do.
I have the queerest feeling when I talk about summer and Bailey's. Life
goes along just the same here: up every morning, work all day, tea, more
work, dinner, write, or play, and then bed. The weather is cool and
beautiful, sometimes quite cold, occasionally rainy, but always I think
of it being April, or possibly May; and a week from Wednesday is the
first of August. Guess where I'll be! Our vacation plans are very
exciting and I can't wait for this week to be over. This is how things
have worked out.
When Father cabled me about going to Switzerland, the last thing on
earth that I wanted to do was to go on a vacation. I considered my week
of grippe and my week at Saint-Germain a terrible lapse, and wanted to
do everything in the world to make up for it. Agathe had been sent on a
vacation, because she was worn out, and then I went off, leaving Mrs.
L---- all alone at the Vestiaire. I worked as hard as I could during
May, doing Vestiaire work in the morning, and visiting in the afternoon,
driving the car a good deal, taking the big packages to the stations and
sending them off, and doing a good many odd jobs. On the 15th of June,
Mrs. L---- went away on her vacation, and I was left in charge of the
Vestiaire, with Agathe to help. It was a circus and I enjoyed it hugely.
Then on the 23d Marje broke her wrist and besides being pretty hard to
bear for a while, it tied things up considerably. I was the sole
chauffeur for the Association, and the sole hairdresser, amanuensis,
shoe-tier, bath-giver, etc., at Place-Denfert. Miss Curtis went over to
the American Red Cross about the first of July, where she is invaluable.
We miss her tremendously, however, and there will have to be a new
distributing of work in the fall. Marje and I just adore her, and we
miss working with her, but she brings Miss Sturgis down to work every
morning in the car so that we see her a good deal, anyway. She is the
most clear-headed, honest, intelligent, nice person I ever knew. She is
always a sport about everything--I can't imagine her doing anything that
wasn't so square that an ordinary person wouldn't ever even think of
doing it. Marje and I would like to be just like her--and if ever
anybody wasn't, it's me! She has blue eyes and a deep voice, anyway; and
I don't believe you can be really efficient without them.
Well, there wasn't much chance for a vacation for me, was there? And I
had no desire to go away and would even now stay with Marje if her arm
wasn't healing so wonderfully that she can go away right on schedule
too. Mrs. L---- got back last Monday, the 16th, and Mrs. Shurtleff left
on Tuesday, the 17th. I took her and all her trunks down to Gare
Montparnasse in a perfect cloudburst, and then had to come back for a
little hatbox. It's the best thing I do to handle other people's trunks;
but you just wait till next Tuesday and I'll be off myself. Mrs.
Shurtleff is beyond compare adorable, and I was glad of the extra visit
I had with her.
These last two weeks are being spent in winding up loose threads, having
a few families come to the Vestiaire, moving the last people on our
list, going out to Montrouge for our last gasoline supply, calling for
contributions of beds, sewing-machines, etc., buying a store of food for
the Food Department, etc., etc.
We have arranged with friends to take turns at the office during August,
attending to important mail, sending out notices that the Vestiaire is
closed until October, giving out food to our regular families every
Tuesday, etc. The weather is no hardship--nothing like the heat of May
and June, and for blueness and clearness equaled only at Bailey's.
Well, Marje and I decided, way back when the snow flew, that we would be
one and inseparable, now and forever, in regard to vacation; but as
August loomed nearer, all we heard were the most discouraging reports of
discomfort and expense in regard to hotels. So many of the usual resorts
are closed that the few hotels anywhere that are attractive, that are
open, boost their prices way up. The last thing we wanted to do was to
chase around after vacation started, to find a perch. We inquired about
Switzerland and were told by the Embassy that it was feasible; but by
business men and the general public that it was made as difficult and
unpleasant as possible to get back. Marje dreads a long train trip, and
I knew Mrs. Shurtleff would have a fit if we went, and would worry over
us.
One day we asked Miss Curtis and Miss Sturgis quite casually what their
plans were, and Miss Curtis said that all she wanted was to be
"somewhere near the sea, tied by the leg and left to browse." Then Miss
Buchanan, the terribly nice Scotch girl, sculptor, who gives half her
time to the work, was sounded, and we found we all wanted the same
thing. We got Baedeker, picked out euphonious names, and wrote to
thirteen different hotels. One answered--and sent a hideous post-card
view. Miss Sturgis and Miss Curtis keep house and were going to send the
maids off somewhere. Suddenly they proposed taking a villa, and a Miss
Hyde, also a worker, told us of the villa she had rented last year, and
I went over and telegraphed, and yesterday morning got a reply that it
was free, so we've taken it! It's in Brittany, near Dinard, and we go
Tuesday, July 31st, on a couchette, and arrive the next morning. We have
no linen and no silver, no coal or wood; no lamps or anything; but we
have plans! Doesn't it sound entrancing? Villa Valérie, Val André,
Côtes-du-Nord. I'm just squealing with joy!
ESTHER.
XXII
FROM MARJORIE
Villa Valérie, Val André, par Pleneuf, Côtes-du-Nord,
August 7, 1917.
DEAREST MOTHER:--
Back to the country is my cry! Simple life, and, therefore, simple
paper. We bought this at Pleneuf the day before yesterday, when for the
second time we tooted over there to get our papers signed, only to find
that the Mairie closes at eleven and at four! Since then we have decided
that it is easier to let the paper question slide, as long as the Mairie
has such inconvenient hours!
We certainly are the luckiest crew that ever sailed! Here we are
comfortably settled in a nice little villa, with all the comforts of
home and none of the responsibilities, for the maids (Miss Curtis's and
Miss Sturgis's) take all of that, and all we have to do is to eat the
excellent food which is offered us and sleep and loaf all day long. We
have all wanted to go off for the month together, but have not known
where to go nor how to get there; so we sat around and waited for
something to happen, and sure enough, a friend offered us this villa. We
just grabbed it, and came down a week ago to-morrow. I simply cannot
believe that we are in France. Paris, refugees, jitney Fords, and work
seem so far away. We are certainly leading a healthy life, and, if we do
not all go back to Paris with a healthy burn and lots of energy, it will
not be the fault of the wonderful air and, I might say, sea, down here.
I do not think that any of us realized how tired we were until we
arrived. Since then we have taken things easy.
We breakfast any time after 9 A.M., and we babies (Rootie and myself)
have an EGG for breakfast. That does not sound like anything to you, but
it means a lot to us--nice, fresh eggs that are brought in by a girl who
makes me think of Josey, she is so persistent; the poor hens hardly have
time to lay, she is looking for the eggs so constantly! Also we have our
coffee more like American citizens! No more boiled milk for us; also
toasted bread. We find that the bread here is very good, and
particularly so when toasted. After breakfast, we all sit around and
plan what is to happen. Usually Miss Sturgis and Miss Curtis and Miss
Buchanan go off to paint, leaving Rootie and myself. We try to write a
few letters, but it is awfully hard, with all the things we want to talk
over now that we have the time, and with the delightful peasant women
cutting the hay and doing the gardening right under our windows. Also
there is always Marthe, very different, very quiet and gentle, and quite
reconciled to our queer ways; but Marthe cannot get over the
"Demoiselles" putting butter on fried potatoes! However, she brushes our
clothes so hard and so faithfully that it makes me wish I had brought my
suit down to be cared for by her.
Luncheon comes at 12.30, or whatever time we get home. We have a way of
just running up to the top of the hill for one peep at the sea at 12.15,
which gives us great joy, and does not seem to bother the maids. We eat
on the porch, all covered with honeysuckle, roses, and with a beautiful
fig tree just outside.
The war seems very far away down here. There is a hospital in the
village, but otherwise than that one can hardly believe that while we
are loafing and playing down here, men are being slaughtered at the
front, which, after all, is not too far away! I told you that Miss
Curtis went over to the Red Cross, for they offered her a splendid
position in just the line of work she is most interested in, and, of
course, Mrs. Shurtleff wouldn't have her stay with our little work when
she has the chance to be part, and an important part, of such a big one.
She is to take charge of the reconstructing of four devastated villages,
which are to be models to the rest which the Red Cross expect to do
later. She goes up from here on the 13th, and, after she gets her
papers, will go to the villages in question and live there, working
among the people, planning how to get the village on its feet again. All
her work is to be with the view to making recommendations in the future
to other committees who will do the same work. The Red Cross is to work
through existing organizations, and to make recommendations and give
money to workers who will be capable of reorganizing these villages.
Miss Curtis will have a wonderful experience, won't she? She is taking
Miss Sturgis with her, which is rather a gloom for us, for I do not
believe that we will ever see either of them at 18 rue Ernest Cresson
again, for they are wavering about going home this winter. Also, of
course, the Red Cross will work in many other fields, but this
reconstruction is one of the most important.
* * * * *
Needless to say, I was unable to finish this without being interrupted.
To-day is Tuesday, and I cannot believe that we have been here a whole
week. Miss Curtis will be leaving us soon, and then we will all be left
to amuse ourselves. Yesterday she suggested that we should each tell all
we could about our homes, families, and she and Miss Sturgis proceeded.
They were too funny. They had to correct each other all the time, and,
of course, they each know all about the other's relations. They kept it
up for a couple of hours, giving us the most minute details about the
sisters and brothers, and also describing the insides of their town and
country houses! It was such fun, we enjoyed it thoroughly. To-day
Rootie, Miss Buchanan, and I tell about our folks. I just have to laugh
when I think of how I will describe the Green House which is so
beautiful when you learn to appreciate it, but, from a purely
architectural point of view, is not perfect! Also 378! Never mind, I am
just waiting to have them all down to Marion some day, and to show them
what a wonderful family I have, and to give them a sail that will make
them all jealous the rest of their lives. I feel as if I were more or
less equipped to tell about the Roots, and I guess that Rootie feels the
same about us, so I suppose we will be able to supplement each other's
story.
We have discovered another attraction to this villa! Out in a very dirty
and unattractive-looking hen-yard, which Miss Curtis wanted to
investigate, we found a box covered with wire, and with five or six of
the dearest little rabbits you ever saw. They are quite tame and allowed
us to hold them for a long time, just cuddling down on our necks, all
warm and so soft! I am happy now, for I have a pet to play with. I admit
that we need a dog, but that does not seem to be practicable just now,
so the bunnies will have to do.