The Note Book
Of An Attaché
Seven Months in the War Zone
By ERIC FISHER WOOD
With Illustrations from Photographs
A. L. BURT COMPANY
Publishers New York
Published by Arrangements with THE CENTURY COMPANY
COPYRIGHT, 1915, BY
THE CENTURY CO.
_Published, June, 1915_
[Illustration: MR. MYRON T. HERRICK]
FOREWORD
When the war-storm suddenly loomed over Europe at the end of July,
1914, I was quietly studying architecture in the Ecole des Beaux-Arts
at Paris. When Austria-Hungary declared war on Serbia on July 24th,
the atmosphere of the city became so surcharged with excitement that
to persist in study was difficult. Within a week I myself had been
swept into the vortex of rushing events, from which I did not emerge
until seven months later.
I became Attaché at the American Embassy in Paris under the regime of
Mr. Herrick, and as such lived through the first exciting months of
the great war. During the months of September, October, and November,
I made four different trips to the front, covering territory which
extended along the battle-line from Vitry-le-François in the east to a
point near Dunkirk in the west. I saw parts of the battles of the
Marne and the Aisne, and the struggle for Calais.
The months of December and January I spent as a bearer of special
dispatches between the American Embassies and went several times to
France, England, Switzerland, Holland, Germany, Austria, and Hungary.
I have seen French, British, Belgian, and German troops in action. I
have seen French, Swiss, Dutch, German, Austrian, and Hungarian troops
in manoeuvres. I spent the first week of February in Paris, leaving
there for America on February 10th.
The following account of what I saw and heard is compiled from letters
and diaries which I wrote day by day on the spot. Some of my
experiences have had to be omitted for diplomatic reasons, and it has
been necessary, in some cases, to give information without mentioning
my authority. The higher the rank and the greater the reputation of my
informant, the less right have I to mention his name.
Although my personal sympathies are with the French, I tried to
observe dispassionately and accurately, and have scrupulously aimed to
present my facts uncolored by preference or prejudice. In war,
exaggeration and misrepresentation play an accepted part in the
tactics of belligerents, but it should be the aim of a neutral to
observe with an unbiased mind, no matter what the state of his
emotions may be. Otherwise, the data he collects can have no value as
historical material.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I.--AT THE AMERICAN EMBASSY 3
II.--THE GERMANS NEARING PARIS 42
III.--WITH THE BRITISH ARMY. THE NIGHT BEFORE THE BATTLE
OF THE MARNE 68
IV.--THE BATTLE OF THE MARNE 82
V.--ANALYSIS OF THE BATTLE OF THE MARNE 126
VI.--THE BATTLE OF THE AISNE 153
VII.--THE AMERICAN AMBULANCE 174
VIII.--GERMANY AND BERLIN 203
IX.--CARRYING DISPATCHES FROM BERLIN TO LONDON 234
X.--VIENNA 247
XI.--HUNGARY 256
XII.--A GERMAN PRISON CAMP 288
APPENDIX 303
THE NOTE-BOOK OF AN ATTACHÉ
CHAPTER I
AT THE AMERICAN EMBASSY
_Paris, Tuesday, August 4th._ I presented myself at the American
Embassy today and offered my services to Mr. Herrick. They were
promptly accepted. I was put to work with such suddenness that no time
was spent in determining my official status. I cannot say whether I am
a doorman or an Attaché. At present the duties of the two seem to be
identical.
Now, as in 1870, the German Embassy in leaving France turned over its
affairs and the interests of German subjects remaining in France to
the American Ambassador. When I arrived today the _Chancellerie_
presented an astounding sight. Around the outer door were huddled a
compact crowd of Germans, men and women; they pressed about the
entrance; they glanced furtively over their shoulders and their blue
eyes were filled with dumb apprehension. Inside the _Chancellerie_ was
chaos. Hundreds of Americans and Germans crowded together seeking
audience and counsel. German women sank down in corners of the halls
or on the stairs, weeping for joy to have found a haven of refuge.
Scores of Sovereign American Citizens stood in the busiest spots and
protested with American vehemence against fate and chance. Each S.A.C.
was remonstrating about a separate grievance. Most of them reiterated
from time to time their sovereignty, and announced to no one in
particular that it was their right to see "their Ambassador" in
person. They demanded information! They needed money! They wished to
know what to do with letters of credit! What was "the government"
going to do about sending them home? Was Paris safe? Would there be
immediate attacks by Zeppelins? Could they deposit their jewels in
the Embassy vaults? Were passports necessary? WHY were passports
necessary? They asked the same questions over and over, and never
listened to the answers.
Inspired by Mr. Herrick, the staff of the Embassy struggled bravely
and coolly through this maelstrom, and accomplished as many things as
possible each minute. No fifty men could have gone through with all
the work that suddenly demanded attention. Without warning, virtually
within one day, this great flood of humanity had rolled in upon the
normally tranquil life of the Embassy, and yet its chief and his
assistants took up the vast responsibility as quietly and acted as
coolly as though it were all an everyday occurrence and not the
emergency of a lifetime.
I was first assigned to work with the American problems. William
Iselin, who had been one of my fellow-students in the Ecole des Beaux
Arts, is Attaché at the Embassy and he gave me a rapid summary of
necessary information. I plunged into work with eagerness, but while
attending to my own countrymen, my deepest personal sympathies went
out to the mob of panic-stricken Germans. Poor creatures, they are in
no way personally responsible for the war, and yet they bear no mean
part in the suffering it is causing. It was decreed by the French
government that all Germans who had not left Paris within twenty-four
hours after the order of mobilization would on no condition be
permitted to leave thereafter. Many of them had found it absolutely
impossible to depart in time owing to the difficulty of obtaining
money and to the disarrangement of the railway service caused by the
mobilization of troops. The second day of mobilization, August 3d,
caught them like rats in a trap and exposed them to the doubtful fate
of being lost in an enemy's country during war time. Many of them were
travelers who had been vacationing in the château country, visiting
the cathedrals of Normandy, or enjoying the picturesque country of
Brittany. Last week they were everywhere treated with respect and
politeness, today they are looked upon with suspicion and hostility.
They are hungry and they have no money. They are surrounded by looks
of hatred and they are terror-stricken. No Frenchman but fears to be
seen speaking to them. They have no place to sleep as no hotel or
lodging-house dares harbor them. Many of them have lost all their
worldly goods and possess nothing except the clothes in which they
stand. Nearly all of them carried their funds in letters of credit on
German banks and these are now worthless in France.
There are refined women who have slept in the streets and parks, nay,
who have not been allowed to sleep, but have walked all night in their
patent leather pumps. There are rich men who literally have not an
available copper and whose eyes have taken on the nervous look of
hunted animals. They realize that neither their sound reputation nor
abundant wealth will alter their present condition by even one "petit
pain de cinq centimes." One man who carried bank-books and deeds
showing that he owned property to the amount of several hundred
thousand francs had walked twelve miles to reach the Embassy, because
he did not possess the coppers necessary to pay his carfare in a
public conveyance.
Yesterday war was declared between France and Germany. One realizes
how quickly it has come when in the American mail yesterday morning a
copy of the _New York Times_ dated only ten days ago devoted just a
column and a quarter to the subject of possible friction between
Austria and Serbia. When that newspaper left New York the whole world
was at peace, but while it was crossing the ocean war has overwhelmed
all Europe, and now when it reaches Paris twenty million men are
rushing to arms.
Today peace-loving France realizes that she is attacked by a powerful
and ambitious enemy. Today no man in all _la Patrie_ regrets the
sacrifices which he has made to maintain an army capable of defending
his country; no man but gives fervent thanks to Heaven that he has
been forced to pay taxes to support that army; no man regrets those
three years of his life which he and each of his fellow-countrymen
offered up in order that its number might not diminish, for now that
army stands READY to prevent the ruin of his property, of his nation,
of his women. It is Ready! At this moment--what a wonderful word! In
modern wars little is of use which has not been prepared beforehand.
Weeks only are necessary to ruin untrained and ill-armed forces, while
years are needed to train an army and to manufacture arms. The
victories of today are not won by Bravery armed with a rifle, but by
Science supplemented by many complicated instruments.
Every hour of every day presents new sights or experiences unique in
kind and all speaking dramatically of war. Each such sight is a
surprise more vivid than the preceding one. Every day is a succession
of startling novelties, each of which gives one a tingling shock. We
are living so rapidly that some are benumbed, others intoxicated by
the rush of events.
In the shops the prices of food staples have nearly doubled. The
people are all anxious to lay in a little supply of provisions against
sudden famine conditions, and the merchants are holding them up for
all the traffic will bear. Articles that will keep indefinitely, such
as flour, chocolate, dried fruits, potatoes, coffee, and preserved
meats, are most in demand. Owing to the hand-to-mouth buying methods
of the French, Paris is never more than three days ahead of famine. No
one realizes this better than the French themselves, and therefore
each and every one desires to lay in at least a small supply of
provisions. A temporary shortage has consequently already occurred.
The newspapers have been emphatic in the denunciation of the merchants
who, taking advantage of the national crisis, and making capital of
the fear and need of the populace, have raised the prices of the
necessaries of life, and have advised the people not to submit to the
imposition. Today the poorer classes have adopted the policy of
smashing anything for which an unreasonable price is demanded. I heard
a big, broad "femme du peuple" ask the corner grocer the price of some
prunes, several bushels of which were exhibited in front of the store.
The reply indicating a rise of some fifty per cent. in the price, the
woman suddenly picked up the basket in her strong arms, and before the
astonished grocer could interfere, threw the whole lot into the
gutter. Instantly a crowd collected which cheered the woman and jeered
the grocer in so ugly a manner that he was thoroughly frightened. His
confusion was made quite complete when a policeman arrived and
declared that what the woman had done was well done. The results of
this policy were immediately salutary and by this evening the
shopkeepers of Paris are a very chastened lot, and prices are quite
normal again.
The eagerness with which newspapers are bought and read is noteworthy.
Each succeeding "extra" is snapped up with unfailing alacrity. The
usual procedure is now reversed, for the newsboy is no longer seen
racing at the beck of some haughty customer, but continues on his
lordly way and allows the would-be purchaser to rush to him, or even
run down the streets after him. The great journals seem unable to turn
out enough editions or to get them out fast enough to meet the demand.
The authorities, however, evidently consider this continual hawking of
sensational news unnecessarily disturbing to the populace, and an
ordinance is to be framed forbidding the crying of newspapers in the
streets.
The Tour Eiffel, that plaything of a decade ago, has in this war
become of supreme importance. It is the highest "wireless mast" in the
world and from it messages have been exchanged with Washington, D.C.
Its value as a sending station cannot be over-estimated. Russia may
become isolated; indeed she is already virtually shut off by the
curtain of hostile Germany and Austria-Hungary, stretching from the
North Sea and the Baltic to the Adriatic. It is probable that wireless
messages sent and received by the Tour Eiffel will soon be the only
means of rapid communication between France and Russia. Fears for the
safety of the tower have led to the most extraordinary precautions for
its protection. It is assiduously guarded against the attack of spies
by numerous sentries. Anti-aircraft guns are mounted upon its various
stages to protect it against aëroplanes and Zeppelins, and heavy
barbed-wire entanglements are to be built all around it.
A curfew regulation is now in force in Paris. No one is allowed in the
streets after eight o'clock. Whoever is found out later than that hour
is promptly conducted to his domicile by the first policeman he meets.
I received a cablegram tonight explaining that there is at the moment
no means of forwarding money from New York to Paris. This makes my
financial situation awkward, as I now have only three hundred francs.
The worst of it is that one cannot even resort to the expedient of
borrowing, because all one's friends are suffering a like stringency.
Today is, officially, the "third day of mobilization." From now on
France will live not by calendar, but by mobilization, days. One
speaks not of "Sunday, August 2d," but of the "first day of
mobilization." Neither days of the week nor of the month exist any
longer. All government decrees, railroad schedules, and military
orders are dated by the new era. Events follow a schedule which has
long since been prepared. When mobilization is announced the nation
turns away from its everyday life and from the world's calendar, and
starts a carefully rehearsed set of operations executed according to
an arbitrary schedule. One dimly remembers that if it were "peace
time" today would be Tuesday.
One sees everywhere on the sidewalk little knots of people talking in
low, troubled voices, and each time just as their conversation is well
started they are interrupted by a policeman who reminds them that it
is not permitted to _s'attrouper_ in the streets and that they must
move on.
Everywhere one sees speeding taxicabs, each containing a young
soldier, his family, and two or three bundles. The young man usually
wears a brand new uniform. The women of the family are invariably
weeping quietly as if to say: "I cannot help crying, because I am a
woman, but everything is all right and just as it should be!" When the
father is of the party, he has a calm face and sits beside his son
with his arm around the son's shoulders, and always the taxi speeds
madly, so that each time one gets only the most fleeting glimpse of
the family within.
There are very few soldiers left in Paris,--not a fifth as many as
usual; those that one does see are most of them driving heavily-loaded
army wagons and appear most disgusted with the unheroic service.
Auto-busses have completely disappeared from the streets, and this is
a great inconvenience; they are all at Versailles being converted into
meat wagons or ambulances. All the fast private automobiles are
requisitioned for the army, and one sees them tearing along vying in
speed with the flying taxis, each one driven by a sapper with another
sapper in the footman's place, while one or two officers sit calmly
behind, trying to smoke cigarettes in spite of the wind.
There are persistent rumors throughout Paris of battles "near Metz" or
"on the borders of Luxembourg," of "two hundred and thirty thousand
French troops already in Alsace," "ten thousand French killed at
Belfort," or "forty thousand German prisoners taken."
The papers already announce a series of German depredations across the
border into the ten kilometer strip of country between it and the
French armies. It is reported that German foragers are infesting this
strip, carrying off everything of value. Yesterday morning the papers
printed the first "war story," which recounts how a patrol of Uhlans
penetrating some ten kilometers into French territory were halted by a
French sentinel, a soldier nineteen years old. The German in command,
thinking the sentinel was alone, shot him through the head and was
himself in turn immediately shot dead by the boy's comrades, who had
been hidden near by in an improvised guard-house. The papers also
announced that the president of the League of French Patriots in
Alsace had been arrested and shot. These stories and others like them,
coupled with the official report of the violation of Luxembourg and of
the sending of a German ultimatum to Belgium, have intensely excited
the French.
Until yesterday the people of Paris have been forbearing with such
German subjects as are in the city. When these stories began to
circulate certain elements of the population took prompt and drastic
action against the German-owned shops of the city. During the day many
such shops have been wrecked. The milk trust of Paris which sells "le
Bon Lait Maggi" is popularly supposed to be owned by German capital.
Its shops are in every quarter of the city, one might almost say on
every street. They have today been the first objects of attack. One of
these shops is in the Rue ----, not far from my apartment. I saw it
wrecked this afternoon. There was no excitement, no hurry, no
shouting. A crowd collected, apparently without concerted action, but
as if by common impulse. There was no prearrangement or system about
it and no "French" excitement. Most of the raiders were women. There
was some jesting, and some dry wit, but mostly it was serious
business.
The work of wrecking was carried forward painstakingly and thoroughly.
The iron screen over the show-window was torn off and broken up and
the window itself was smashed to bits, the door was broken open, every
bit of glass or crockery was shivered to fragments against the
sidewalk and the pieces were ground into powder under the heels of the
raiders. Account books and bill-heads were torn sheet by sheet into
the tiniest bits and strewn up and down the street for a block, and
all woodwork was smashed into kindling. During the operations a
patrol of policemen on bicycles went tearing by. They must have been
on business of great and immediate importance since they had no time
to stop nor to look either to the right or left. When the wrecking
operations were quite completed another patrol came by. The sergeant
in command dismounted. He wore a tremendous frown and with an
authoritative sweep of his arm cried: "Qu'est ce que vous faites?
Allez! Allez vous en! vous savez bien que nous sommes maintenant sous
la loi militaire, et que c'est défendu de s'attrouper dans les rues!
Allez! Allez!" ("What are you doing? Move along, get out of here! You
know that we are now under martial law and that it is forbidden to
collect in crowds in the streets. Move on, move on!").
The crowd instantly dispersed, wearing faces of great solemnity. It is
evident that he could not possibly have arrested the wreckers, for he
had himself seen nothing and it is not to be supposed that they would
have been witnesses against one another.
By night time there were many shops, factories, and cafés of German
ownership which had thus been raided. The crowds did not always
take time to make careful investigation before breaking up an
establishment. I shall never forget the plight of the French
proprietor of a café on the Place de l'Opéra who was standing in
front of his completely wrecked shop using all the most eloquent
French gestures, as he repeated over and over in helpless rage:
"Sacré nom d'un nom, je suis caporal du cent-dixième de réserve et
je pars au front après demain!" ("Sacred Name, I am Corporal of
the 110th Reserve and I leave for the front the day after tomorrow.")
Last evening I repeatedly heard the following conversation between
Frenchmen, wherever they met:
1st Frenchman: "Est-ce qu'on va boire du 'Bon Lait Maggi,'
ce soir?"
2d Frenchman (with the solemnity of an owl): "Non,
Monsieur!"
This formula of question and reply had travelled all over the city and
was repeated time after time with always the same internal relish.
On all sides of Paris speedy aëroplanes and daring aviators hold
themselves ready to dash upon any enemy who may approach by way of
the air and, if necessary, fall with him to mutual destruction. All
night the beams of searchlights comb the sky for invaders and cast a
tragic reflected glow upon the city beneath.
* * * * *
_Wednesday, August 5th._ Yesterday an all too enterprising individual
chartered one of the fast little Seine boats, always so beplastered
with "Dubonnet" advertisements, which ply along the river between the
Quai du Louvre and St. Cloud. He announced that since it was now no
longer possible to reach London via the train to Havre, he would
transport Americans on his little boat to England, going down the
Seine past Rouen and across the Channel. For such service each person
was to be charged an extravagant amount, payment strictly in advance.
The scheme was widely advertised to have the approval of the American
Ambassador, although no one at the Embassy knew anything about the
matter until Americans came to the _Chancellerie_ yesterday to ask for
further information. Mr. Herrick sent me out to investigate. The
promoter had evidently calculated that the Ambassador would not hear
about it until too late to interfere.
I found the whole proposition most impractical. The boat was far too
small for so dangerous a trip, there were no accommodations for so
long a voyage, and the question of food supplies was a very serious
one. Moreover, numerous and incalculable difficulties were involved in
passing through a country in a state of war.
Upon receiving the detailed report on the objections to the scheme,
Mr. Herrick promptly sent to the Paris papers a statement that his
alleged connection with or approval of the plan was a mistake. Notices
to the same effect were also posted in the halls of the Embassy.
This morning the crowd of Germans who thronged to the Embassy was
greatly increased, while the number of Americans was approximately the
same as yesterday; consequently several of the staff were transferred
from work with Americans to work with Germans, I being among them. It
is strenuous business handling these panic-stricken people.
Heretofore, the offices for the naval and military Attachés have been
located on the ground floor of the _Chancellerie_, but in the present
emergency this space is converted into an impromptu German Embassy,
all German affairs being concentrated here, while the Americans are
taken care of on the floor above. We are stationed two by two at desks
ranged along the walls of the entrance hall and we dispose of each
case as rapidly as possible as they are passed to us by the doorman.
All these Germans require four things: food, lodgings, protection, and
proper police papers. We began by doling out to them from one to three
francs each to be used to buy food. Our miserliness was due to the
fact that, under existing economic conditions, even the Embassy could
obtain only a limited amount of change, and it was essential that we
make that go as far as possible. In order to obtain at one and the
same time lodging and protection for our wards, Mr. Herrick arranged
with the French government that the Lycée Condorcet in the Rue du
Havre be set aside for the lodgment of German subjects. This building
is guarded by a squad of police who allow no one to enter who is not
the bearer of a certificate issued by the American Embassy. The Lycée
Condorcet is a great barn of a place, from which nearly all the
furniture has been removed, but it provides for the moment the two
essentials, a roof and safety. No owner of an hotel or apartment will
in these dangerous days harbor Germans, in each of whom he sees a
possible spy, and the government, suddenly called upon to house
thousands of aliens, responds to the appeal of the American Embassy
as best it can. Hundreds of Germans will tonight sleep on the bare
floor of the Lycée Condorcet, and be more thankful for that safe
resting-place than ever they have been for the most comfortable bed or
luxurious apartment.
No attempt was today made to provide Germans with the necessary police
papers. We had indeed no time to consider anything but food, shelter,
and safety. Tomorrow we shall attack that problem.
By three o'clock we had so systematized the work of handling the
Germans that I found I could, with the aid of two assistants, attend
to all the routine cases myself. This released the men at the other
tables to reinforce the American office on the floor above, whose
business had during the afternoon greatly increased. There was no
means or time for estimating in advance just how many people could be
crowded into the Lycée Condorcet, so I continued during the afternoon
to issue certificates of admission to all the Germans whom I examined.
On receiving their certificates most of them went at once to the
Lycée to get off the streets. By six o'clock the place was so crowded
that not another person could find room even to sit on the floor;
therefore the late arrivals, after having wearily trudged two long
miles from the Embassy to the Lycée, had to trudge back again from the
Lycée to the Embassy. By eight o'clock there were nearly a hundred of
these refugees huddled around the _Chancellerie_ and it was late in
the evening before I, by most desperate efforts, succeeded in making
arrangements for them for the night.
The French police have promulgated a regulation that all Germans now
in Paris are to be shut up in detention camps. They are ordered to
report immediately to the nearest police station, where they will
receive written notifications of the camps to which they have been
assigned, and of the date of their departure. The detention camps are
twelve in number and are located at Limoges, Gueret, Cahors, Libourne,
Périgueux, Saintes, Le Blanc, La Roche-sur-Yon, Chateauroux, Saumur,
Anger, and Flers. Several large trainloads will be shipped away from
Paris each day for the next two weeks. Exceptions to this edict are to
be made only in the case of Alsatians, and of those sick Germans who
are possessors of a certificate from some French physician stating
that they are too ill to endure transportation.
The frightened Germans find it difficult to understand the numerous
details involved in this order, and are hopelessly confused by the
various official papers they are required to obtain to safeguard them
against the accusation of being spies. The Embassy endeavors to keep
itself informed as to the latest police enactments, and these are
clearly and courteously explained to all the Germans who apply to the
Embassy for counsel or assistance.
* * * * *
_Sunday, August 9th._ During the past few days I have been absolutely
absorbed with the affairs of the Germans. I am at present in charge of
them and report results to the Second Secretary. I enter the Embassy
before nine in the morning and it is after midnight before I leave its
doors. None of the staff, not even Mr. Herrick himself, departs before
that hour. If some of the peacefully sleeping Sovereign American
Citizens who are so free with their criticisms during the daytime
could see the members of the Embassy in the early hours of the morning
at the end of our sixteen-hour day, they would perhaps pity
themselves less. We work always at high pressure; meals are hurriedly
swallowed at odd moments and at irregular hours. Each night I walk
home across Paris, down the Rue Freycinet, over the Pont de l'Alma,
through the Avenue Bosquet, Avenue Duquesne, Rue Oudinot to the Rue
d'Olivet--and sleep. It is a long walk when one is dead tired, but
there are no public conveyances at night and, indeed, few in the
daytime. The walk takes nearly an hour, even at a fast gait, for at
short intervals one is halted by policemen demanding explanations of
this midnight journey. Few experiences have been more weird than this
nightly trip through the familiar Paris streets, strangely dark and
absolutely deserted.
Each day is now a haze of Germans and their troubles; of policemen,
detectives, and soldiers, of tears and laughter, bits of the sublime
and the ridiculous; of women who have been robbed and men who have
been arrested as spies; of constant struggles to secure papers for
poor hounded creatures, which one policeman demands and another
refuses to grant; of beaten faces and tear-stained cheeks; of French
women endlessly begging unobtainable news of sons lost in Germany,
and of petty crookednesses on the part of those we are trying to help
and protect.
Affairs are, however, running more smoothly. We have found means to
get small change in large quantities, and I now know personally most
of the police officials who are concerned in German affairs.
* * * * *
I have heard the Marseillaise sung upon hundreds of peaceful
occasions; have risen when it was played in French theaters; have
enthusiastically joined in singing it at students' dinners, and have
been impressed by it in an unemotional and academic way. In peace
times one feels that it is easily the greatest of national anthems,
but fails to realize that it is primarily a battle song. This morning
for the first time I heard it sung as such, and as such shall forever
remember it. I was walking down the Rue de Sèvres toward the Boulevard
Montparnasse, hoping to pick up a stray taxicab which would carry me
to the Embassy. Suddenly, and with startling abruptness, I was brought
to a full stop by a wave of sharp, staccato vocal sound. Wave beat
upon wave,--a great volume of male voices shouting in unison. There
was something so strange, so startling, and so appalling in their
quality that, without comprehending what was coming, a shiver ran up
my spine. The sound swelled and came nearer, and suddenly the head of
a column of infantry swung into view past a street corner just ahead
and the dull "smash--smash--smash" of a thousand feet falling in
unison could be heard through the volume of sound. It was the
Marseillaise of war! The troops were marching to the Gare Montparnasse
to entrain for the front, and in a few days would be in the
battle-line. Their bayonets sloped backward, a waving thicket bent
toward the morning sun. There was no music in their words, which were
sharp and incisive. Each word was a threat, an imprecation, intense
with ferocious meaning. Their intonation carried conviction that the
men meant literally every impressive line they uttered. The words
visualized for me the picture in their own minds. I could sense their
desire to charge the Germans, to close in, to strike, to stab. Perhaps
the deliberate, vengeful premeditation to destroy is more terrible
than the act itself. I doubt if any battle could ever affect me as
did the song of those men. The result was so disintegrating to one's
psychology that for the rest of the day I completely lost balance of
judgment. I felt exultantly certain that the French were going to
smash Germany into tiny bits, and was equally sure that they could, if
need be, demolish all creation.
* * * * *
_Monday, August 10th._ Today Austria and France are officially at war.
The affairs of the Austro-Hungarian Embassy were turned over to us
this evening. This probably means that a flood of Austrians and
Hungarians will be tomorrow added to the Americans and Germans who
already keep us so busy.
Today for the first time we were able to complete all the business
brought to the Embassy. Previously we had to be content with
accomplishing as much as could be done in a sixteen-hour day.
* * * * *
_Wednesday, August 12th._ I have witnessed so much suffering during
the last week that to see people weep now no longer produces any
emotional effect upon me. One's sympathies get numbed by the
over-strain put upon them; the more keenly one feels, the more numb
one ultimately becomes. Today during the long day about five hundred
Austrians and Hungarians poured in upon the Embassy. I examined one
hundred and sixty-four cases between two o'clock and half-past four,
and gave monetary assistance to one hundred and twenty-one.
* * * * *
_Friday, August 14th._ During the past week six ten-dollar gold pieces
which have been sent me in letters arrived safely. Snugly held in
their pasteboard frames, they could not be detected by feeling the
letters. When the first one arrived I had spent virtually all the
money which I had on hand at the beginning of the war, and this good
American gold will tide me over until drafts can be sent through to
Paris. In New York in peace time sixty dollars seems a small amount,
but in France in war three hundred francs in gold looks a small
fortune. At least, it insures plenty of good food.
* * * * *
_Sunday, August 16th._ Until today I have had at the Embassy no
definite status. I have laughingly been dubbed the "German
Ambassador." Everyone has been much too busy to give thought to
anything so personal as position or titles. This morning, however,
time was found to send my name to the Minister of Foreign Affairs
as "Attaché Civil à l'Ambassade Américaine," and to request the
customary "coup fil."
* * * * *
_Monday, August 17th._ I have at last received money from America. It
came through Morgan, Harjes & Company. This firm has been the
salvation of our countrymen in Paris. They announced that "until
further notice" they would cash all American paper. They even take
personal checks on American banks. The "further notice," fortunately,
shows no signs of appearing.
* * * * *
_Thursday, August 20th._ The statue of Strasbourg on the Place de la
Concorde has been constantly hung with mourning wreaths and crêpe ever
since the capture and annexation of the city of Strasbourg by the
Germans forty-four years ago. Now it is piled with gay flowers and
bedecked with streamers and the arms of the lady are filled with
flags, conspicuous among which are those of Great Britain and Russia.
* * * * *
_Friday, August 21st._ Nearly all the Germans, Hungarians, and
Austrians have by this time been interned in the detention camps; all
ages and both sexes have been shipped away to a fate of which we as
yet have no knowledge.
I have been arranging the details of an automobile tour of inspection
to the various camps, in order to investigate the prisons and to
disburse to the prisoners the funds which have been received for their
benefit from their various governments. Such a trip will necessitate
nearly twelve hundred miles of travel and will require at least two
weeks' time.
Mr. Herrick sent for me today and questioned me as to the state of the
preparations. He told me that he intended to select me to make the
trip, and that I was to start as soon as the necessary permissions had
been received from the French Government. Attaché Herbert Hazeltine,
who has been a fellow-worker in behalf of the Germans, is to take
charge of the Paris office during my absence.
* * * * *
_Saturday, August 22d._ German affairs are now reduced to a system.
The Embassy each day opens to Americans at ten o'clock. I begin with
my Germans and Austrians at nine in order to get clear of the least
desirable element before the Americans appear. In that first hour we
dispose of about fifty per cent.; the half that need only routine
assistance. At present I receive them in the entrance hall of the
Embassy at the far end. I sit at the desk facing the door and have the
money sent by the German Government for destitute cases on my left
hand in a drawer against the wall. An Austrian, long resident in
Paris, and president of the Austro-Hungarian Relief Society, is placed
on my right to give me the benefit of his long experience in charity
work. He already knows many of those who apply for aid and can judge
whether or not they are really destitute. Beyond him is another
assistant who fills out receipts for each sum distributed and obtains
the signature of the recipient. Special appointments for the afternoon
hours are made with those applicants who want information or help
which cannot immediately be decided upon.
The crowd outside the door, often several hundred in number, is kept
in order by two policemen. Assistants hand out numbers like those used
for the Paris auto-busses, not given however for priority, but for
undesirability; the least desirable getting in first so that we may be
the sooner rid of them. These assistants also see that each applicant
has the correct papers in his hand, and that three of them are waiting
in line to facilitate the steady flow of the human current. The
receipts and my entries form a double record and check to be used in
the official accounts which are balanced every day and in the end will
be transmitted in reports to the German and Austrian Governments. A
stenographer keeps an indexed, alphabetical list of all the
applicants, which enables me to find the past record of any case which
reappears. In addition to this, I have a system of hieroglyphics which
I write in on the lower right-hand corner of the police papers which
every foreigner must at all times carry with him for identification.
There is also an interpreter for those rare comers who speak neither
French nor English. By this system I have managed to examine as many
as one hundred and thirty-five cases in an hour, and once as high a
number as seven hundred in a single day.
At the beginning of the war there were probably at least thirty
thousand Germans and Austrians in or near Paris who became wards of
the American Embassy when the affairs of the German and Austrian
Embassies were turned over to us, all of them needing to be furnished
with proper police papers and to be provided with a refuge until such
time as they are shipped to detention camps in the south of France.
* * * * *
_Sunday, August 23d._ Here in Paris, extraordinary as it may seem, we
have had no real news of the progress of the war. The Official
Communiqués carry to a fine point the art of saying nothing of any
importance. The newspapers are so strictly censored that they are
permitted to publish little except these _communiqués_ or editorials
based upon them. Letters and papers from America really give us the
first accounts of events which are happening at our very gates. We
know by rumor that there has been heavy fighting somewhere and
somewhen. Many German prisoners are being taken around Paris southward
to the detention camps which I hope soon to visit, and the flags of
three German regiments have been brought to Paris and exhibited with
considerable ceremony. This should indicate that battles favorable to
the French have been fought, since a German regiment numbers three
thousand men and would defend its flag to the last.
Of late one sees everywhere numbers of women in mourning, increasing
so rapidly as to attract the attention of even the least observing.
Paris still maintains a strange calm. The stillness of the city is
positively oppressive. Even the newsboys drag slowly along calling in
a disheartened voice their wares which no longer contain any news and
which, in consequence, find few buyers.
The people seem to realize from the very lack of news that this is to
be a long and terrible war and that any decisive result cannot be at
present expected.
Letters are constantly arriving at the Embassy, forwarded to us with
great care by French soldiers who have found them on the bodies of
dead Germans, or received them from the hands of the dying. They are
sent to us in the hope that we may eventually find means to transmit
them to Germany to the relatives of the dead for whom they were
intended. Today came such a note written by a German airman who had
been shot down out of the sky. He had evidently realized that his
time was short and had hurriedly scribbled on the back of a sheet of
instructions printed in German script the few words he could summon
strength to write. The scrap of paper was torn and smudgy and a
thumb-print in blood was impressed on one corner. Each word was more
shaky and labored than the preceding one, as if each had been traced
only by a supreme effort. On it was written in German, "Good-bye,
Mother and Father. My leg is crushed. The French are very kind
and...." A foot-note had been added by some French soldier explaining
that the man had died while he was writing, and giving the means of
identification which had been found on the body.
* * * * *
_Monday, August 24th._ Yesterday and this morning I have observed a
very singular psychological phenomenon. Neither yesterday nor today
have the authorities given out any military news of importance and the
papers have been as non-committal as usual, yet all Paris believes
that the Allies have suffered a great and terrible defeat at a place
in Belgium called Charleroi. The whole city is as if it were under a
pall. Every face wears a fatalistic expression terrible to behold. I
have read of such mysterious spreading of evil tidings, but have never
before witnessed anything of the kind. It is a very curious
manifestation, whether or not it proves to have any foundation in
fact.[1]
[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 superstitious 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-Elysées 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 Embassy for an hour in one of the several automobiles
which have been loaned to Attachés 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 Embassy 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 institute
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 cafés 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 unobtainable.
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 Embassy
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
Embassy 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 Embassy 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-Elysées for lunch at the Café 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 Embassy 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.