THE GERMANS NEARING PARIS
_Saturday, 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 buttons. 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 Attaché with a fast automobile out toward
Compiègne, 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
Compiègne. 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 Compiègne?
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. Compiègne 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 masses, 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 _communiqués_ 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 illustration 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 _communiqués_, 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 _accroissement_ 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
larvæ 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 Embassies 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 principally
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 Embassy that a German
aëroplane 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 aëroplane 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 aëroplane.
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 "assist the enemy," and then permits the publication of such a
hate-breeding tale as this.
* * * * *
_Monday, August 31st._ Another German aëroplane 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 unobserved; 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 aëroplane 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 pronounced
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 unobtainable. 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 volé." 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 Embassy. 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
Compiègne. 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 Embassy 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 café and fire
their revolvers at the so-far-away speck.
* * * * *
_Wednesday, September 2d._ The German bomb-dropping aëroplane 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 Trocadéro Hill we
enjoyed a good view off over the city. The Taube passed almost
directly over our heads on its way to attack the Tour Eiffel; it flew
at an altitude of about 5000 feet and looked very like a bug crawling
across the sky. With our glasses 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 aëroplanes 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, muffled "boom" of its explosion. All this time, guns
in various parts of the city were shooting at the aëroplane; 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
aëroplane 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 altitude 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 café. They cannot help exclaiming in admiration
"quel aplomb!" It is now the fourth day that a German aëroplane has
passed 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 aëroplanes 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 aëroplanes in the world. The psychological effect on the Parisians
has been immense.
For two weeks now, I have been entirely ready to start on my first
tour of the detention camps. The need has seemed so pressing that I
have been prepared to start immediately on the receipt of permission
from the Minister of Foreign Affairs. Mr. Herrick rightly refuses to
allow me to start without this permission. The reason for the delay
seems to be that France insists that she will accord us only those
privileges with regard to her German prisoners that the German
government gives to the Spanish Embassy in Berlin with regard to the
French prisoners in Germany. The hitch is that each takes exactly the
same ground, so neither side does anything definite.
Such is European "diplomacy." The onus of the prisoners' condition
cannot be said to rest upon our shoulders. Mr. Herrick or Mr. Bliss
has made _démarches_ in the matter almost every day.
Diplomacy is a trade which I find extremely hard to learn. Its
principal rule seems to be never to do anything that you can possibly
avoid. Such principles naturally give rise to a great deal of futile
routine. When a diplomat must act, he methodically follows a
well-trodden and known-to-be-safe path; when he is forced to
take a new direction he invariably makes some superior take the
responsibility. I know that on one occasion a trivial question was
asked of a Jäger at the door of a European _Chancellerie_; it was
passed through eight people of increasing rank and finally reached the
ruler of a great nation. I wonder if the applicant was kept waiting at
the door by the Jäger during the months necessary for the working out
of the process.
The Government of France has announced, officially, that it will
depart from Paris tonight and that Bordeaux is to be the new capital.
In point of fact, many officials have already gone, while those who
still remain are to leave tonight on a series of diplomatic trains.
The Embassies of England and Russia and the Legation of Belgium will
go also. There is a rumor that several of the neutral ambassadors and
consuls will flee, but this I cannot credit. They could have no
sufficient excuse for deserting Paris so precipitately, and if they
did they would appear arrant cowards. Mr. Herrick is sending Captain
Pope, one of the military Attachés, and Mr. Sussdorf, the third
secretary, to Bordeaux, in order that we may have some official
representation with the French Government in its temporary exile, but
feels that the Embassy as a whole should stay in Paris. Bordeaux is in
the midst of the districts which contain the detention camps for
German and Austrian prisoners, and I therefore rather expected to be
sent with Captain Pope and Mr. Sussdorf when I heard at noon that they
were to leave for Bordeaux. Mr. Frazier, however, told me that I was
to stay in Paris, work here being so pressing that the German
prisoners will have to get on without me. I hurriedly turned over to
Captain Pope much data I had collected concerning the camps and a
satchel containing twenty thousand francs in small change which I had
in hand for distribution among the internes.
* * * * *
_Thursday, September 3d._ Now that part of the Embassy corps has
departed for Bordeaux, the following remain at the _Chancellerie_ to
face the exciting events of an impending German invasion. Besides Mr.
Herrick and the secretaries, Messrs. Bliss and Frazier, there are
Majors Cosby, Hedekind, and Henry; Captains Parker, Brinton, and
Barker; Lieutenants Donait, Hunnicutt, Boyd, and Greble, all of the
United States Army; Major Roosevelt of the Marine Corps; Commander
Bricker and Lieutenants Smith and Wilkinson of the Navy. Herbert
Hazeltine, William Iselin, and myself are civil Attachés, and Harry
Dodge and Lawrence Norton private secretaries to the Ambassador. The
Treasurer, Mr. Beazle, was at the Embassy as long ago as the
Franco-Prussian war and the Commune, and has already lived through one
siege and capture of Paris. There are, of course, innumerable
stenographers, bookkeepers, and the like.
The other embassies and most of the consulates have fled. Their
members have left Paris more precipitately and with less dignity than
has been shown even by the civil population. They all seemed to lose
their wits when the Germans drew near Paris; they made their
preparations to depart in the most frantic haste; they were white of
face and perspiring with nervousness. It is not a pleasant sight to
see strong men palsied with fright, but we have seen many such these
days. Not a soul remains in the British Embassy or consulate to take
care of England's manifold interests. It seems strange that when
thousands of British heroes of the army are dying brave deaths on the
fields of battle, not a single British hero was to be found in the
diplomatic corps with nerve enough to risk the inconveniences of a
siege. The Ambassador of another country, who fled with the crowd,
left in spite of orders from his king absolutely directing him to
remain. Apparently he has sacrificed his career to his fright, for
this king was so determined that his embassy at least should remain in
Paris that he has replaced this ambassador by another who has more
courage,--the new one is a soldier.
These fleeing diplomats insult France by assuming that she is already
conquered, and insult the Germans by assuming that the lives of the
accredited plenipotentiaries of foreign nations would not be safe in
the hands of German soldiers. They also leave their own subjects in
Paris without a soul to represent them at a moment when they really
need a representative for the first time in decades. When these
magnates have recomposed their minds in Bordeaux and have time to
formulate excuses, they will probably say that they left Paris because
it was their solemn duty to accompany the French Government; but
yesterday, when they were asked why they were departing so swiftly,
they could only cry: "The Germans are coming."
Mr. Herrick looks on with calm amazement. Three days ago he
telegraphed Washington to ask for authorization to stay in Paris. The
reply left the matter to his own discretion. Thirty minutes later he
was in the cabinet of M. Delcassé to say that he would stay in Paris
no matter what might come. It must have been a wonderful tableau when
those two men faced each other across M. Delcassé's big desk. As Mr.
Herrick stated that the American Embassy was positively to remain in
Paris, M. Delcassé's expression of calm dignity vanished in a flash.
He stepped around his desk and shook Mr. Herrick eagerly by the hand.
He said there were many precious memorials and many rare objects which
might have their habitation in one spot like Paris, but which
nevertheless belonged to all civilized humanity, and that no diplomat
could perform a greater service to France and to mankind than to stay
in Paris and do what could be done to protect these precious memorials
and objects from destruction--a destruction which might be avoided if
an authorized spokesman of that humanity were present to protest.
* * * * *
The stampede out of Paris grows hour by hour. It is a contagion and
seizes all classes. A week ago it was a short street indeed which did
not boast at least one Red Cross Hospital; now most of them are
deserted, for the fashionable women who followed the fashion in
joining hospitals have now again followed the fashion and fled,
pell-mell.
The newspaper men and the "war correspondents" have been particularly
concerned for their own safety. By supreme efforts, I today managed
to obtain conveyances to transport several of them out of the
city--men with sweat on their brows and hands that trembled. There is
an element of humor in it all, despite the sadness. One of the staff
remarked, "Do you notice how all the newspaper men, who for weeks have
been pestering us with requests to be sent to the front, now demand as
insistently to be sent away, when the front is at last coming to
them?" In time of peace diplomats and war correspondents are easily
the most pugnacious people in the world. If one has taken them at
their own estimation the resulting contrast is painful.
Today we took over the interests of Great Britain, Japan, and
Guatemala. We have represented Germany, Austria, and Hungary since the
beginning of August, so that, including the United States, we are now
seven embassies in one.
* * * * *
_Friday, September 4th._ Last evening all Paris awaited the "six
o'clock Taube" which has become for the French a regular and almost
welcome feature of each day's happenings. At four o'clock a French
aviator in a monoplane took the air and mounted up, up, up, in slow
wide circles whose center was the Tour Eiffel, until he finally
reached an altitude of some 10,000 feet. Then, a mere speck in the
cold, thin air, he circled slowly around and around, waiting for the
German--who never came. Even without this climax the situation was
thrilling enough. The Frenchman descended sadly from his lofty beat
just as night fell, while waiting Paris was distinctly disappointed.
That night in the restaurants one heard Frenchmen express the
extraordinary hope that nothing _too_ terrible had happened to brave
Lieutenant von Heidssen.
[Illustration: M. DELCASSÉ, FRANCE'S MINISTER OF FOREIGN AFFAIRS
[He is the most capable of France's statesmen, and was the prime
mover in the formation of the Triple Entente. He has been three
times Minister of Marine, once Minister of the Colonies, and five
times Minister of Foreign Affairs]]
This morning Paris is informed that the Lieutenant had been punctually
on his way to his daily appointment when, in flying over the Bois de
Vincennes, a rifle bullet had passed through his heart. Strange to
say, he planed down on a long steep slant, this man-bird, just as game
birds do when similarly stricken, and landed without serious damage to
his machine. He was found sitting stone dead, strapped up in his seat.
Such is the quick generosity of the French temperament that today he
is mourned by all Paris, this Lieutenant von Heidssen, who died on his
lonely way to keep his fifth punctual appointment with the city of
his enemies. Paris actually regrets that he no longer comes at six
each evening to throw bombs at her.
* * * * *
Mr. Herrick's remaining in Paris has been greeted with wonderful
appreciation and enthusiasm by the whole French nation. His picture is
in all the newspapers and shop windows, and even the most humble
member of the Embassy shines by reflected glory.
The diplomatic responsibilities resting on our Embassy become more
and more important, but everyone acknowledges that in each emergency
Mr. Herrick shows himself equal to the situation. When the first
German aëroplane threw bombs at Paris, a wave of indignation and
protestation swept over the city. It was one of those waves of
excitement which carry judgment before it. Citizens and officials,
newspapers and posters, Frenchmen and Americans, all besought and
begged Mr. Herrick, "the courageous, the noble Mr. Herrick," to
make formal protest to Washington. Everywhere one heard in angry
tones the phrases: "brutality," "contrary to the Hague Convention,"
"killing non-combatants," "barbarians." Mr. Herrick decided that
there was more danger in protesting too soon than of protesting too
late. He delayed long enough to consult his books and to confer with
his legal and military advisers. I was fortunate enough to be present
when he read the final summing-up of his conclusions. He had
discovered that neither Germany nor France had signed the clause
of the Hague Convention forbidding aircraft to drop bombs on cities.
Therefore, the law that non-combatants of a city must be warned
before any bombardment is begun did not, in the case of these
two nations, technically apply, whatever the considerations of
humanity might dictate.
Mr. Herrick did not protest, for there was legally nothing to protest
about. He forwarded verbatim to Washington the protests of the French
Government.
One now sees many British and Belgian soldiers about Paris. They have
come in on the edges of the great retreat. Their morale is exactly the
reverse of what one would expect in troops who have been badly beaten.
They express great contempt for the German soldier. They describe him
as a stupid, brutal, big-footed creature, who does not know how to
shoot and who has a distaste for the bayonet. They seem unable to
understand why they have been beaten by the Germans and try to explain
it by saying, "There are so many of them."
The Belgians, nearly all of whom have come from Liège and Namur, speak
in the most awe-stricken terms of the effects of the big German siege
guns, which fire a shell 11.2 inches in diameter. These guns were
placed in distant valleys and could not be located by the Belgians.
Moreover, they outranged the guns of the forts and could not have been
injured even if they had been located. The forts thus lay hopeless and
awaited their doom, which came suddenly enough in the shape of great
shells dropping out of the sky upon their cupolas. The explosions
might have been approximated by combining an earthquake, a volcanic
eruption, and a cyclone.
Namur was surrounded by twelve forts. The bombardment began on a
Wednesday night and three of the forts were reduced to scrap in two
days. The Germans marched through the gap thus made and took the other
forts in the rear, so that in less than three days Namur was
completely in their possession. This will undoubtedly be the system
used against Paris, and apparently there is no antidote. The forts
cannot reply, for they cannot determine where the big guns are
located; but meanwhile the big guns know the exact position of the
forts, and they, moreover, outrange the forts.
* * * * *
Today I had an opportunity to talk with three British officers
recently arrived in Paris from that part of the front just this side
of Chantilly. They were incredibly grimy, dirty, and sweaty and were
greatly embarrassed thereby. They were of the first body of British
troops landed in France; they had met the Germans at Charleroi and had
been through the whole retreat of nearly one hundred and fifty miles,
having been constantly in action for some two weeks. They summed up
their experiences by saying that they had received "a hell of a
licking." This statement is rather over-modest since within a day or
so we have learned that the British, numbering about sixty thousand,
were opposed by four or five German army corps, amounting to two
hundred thousand men, and that in spite of this the British had
retreated stubbornly, contesting every mile.
A most extraordinary thing which these officers told me was that,
during their whole retreat from Charleroi to Compiègne, they had never
seen a single French soldier nor received any assistance from the
French army. One is tempted to wonder what would have happened if
there had been no British army to help check the retreat toward Paris.
British soldiers agree that they have received most extraordinary
hospitality from the civilians and peasantry of Belgium and France.
Whole villages, themselves facing starvation, gave their last crumb of
bread and their last drop of wine to the British troops and cheerfully
slept in the fields in order that the soldiers might snatch a bit of
rest in their houses.
All the officers with whom I have had the opportunity to talk agree
that the German losses have been enormous. I do not think that this is
entirely patriotic exaggeration, since British officers are not
particularly prone to flights of fancy. One of them prefaced his
remarks on the retreat from Charleroi by saying, "The truth of the
matter is, we got damn well licked," and went on to say that his men
shot and shot and shot until they became sick of killing, and that
the Germans kept coming, always coming, their ranks riddled and
smashed by bullets and shells. The British all agree that the German
troops have an unflinching, dogged, brutal courage, which nothing
seems to daunt. They come on and on, climbing over the bodies of the
regiments which have gone before. The German tactics are those of
Napoleon. They attack a position and they keep on attacking it until
they take it, no matter what it costs; regiments and brigades are
wiped out without any wavering in the commander's resolve or in the
dogged persistence of his troops.
In spite of the fact that they have been constantly beaten by German
tactics, the officers of the Allies persist in considering them
antiquated and barbarous. They ascribe the German successes to their
big guns and to the wonderfully efficient way in which their bad
tactics are carried out. They all agree that the German skill in
concentrating troops before an attack is wonderful. So far they have
never failed to have overwhelming numbers at any point of offense.