on his way from the latter's country-house near Villa-Cotterets, where
the memorable _chasses à courre_ take place in the forest, which,
under normal conditions, abounds in deer and stags. The château had been
used as the headquarters of a brigade of Bavarian infantry. The house
was intact, but some valuable furniture of the Louis XV period and some
paintings had been destroyed, and the cellar, that had contained over
two thousand bottles of excellent wine, including forty dozen bottles of
champagne of the admirable vintage of 1904, had been "visited," and only
seven bottles remained. The Bavarians, in pursuance of their practice in
1870, carried away all the clocks in the château.
_Wednesday, September 16._
Forty-fifth day of the war. Sky heavily overcast. Southwesterly wind.
Thermometer at five P.M. 15 degrees centigrade.
After the victorious contest of the Marne, we are now to have the
gigantic struggle of the Aisne. The battle now engaged, because the
Franco-British pursuit has compelled the German armies all along the
line to reënforce their rear guards and fight, extends some one hundred
and fifty miles in length on one front from Noyon, the heights north of
Vic-sur-Aisne, Soissons, Rheims, to Ville-sur-Tourbe, west of the wooded
ridge of the Argonne. Another "front," where vigorous defence is made by
the German eastern armies, extends from the eastern border of the
Argonne to the Forges forest north of Verdun, some fifty miles long.
Now that the Germans are fighting on the defensive, it is not too soon
to record the fact that their extraordinary raid of a million of
soldiers through Belgium to within twenty miles of Paris has failed.
Nothing in military history approaches this avalanche of armies. The
German invasion of France and the threat to invest and capture Paris is
coming to an end. Yet this war can only be ended by an invasion either
of France or of Germany being driven to a triumphant conclusion. The
theater of war must soon be transferred from France to the east. The
curtain falls upon the German invasion of France, and for the present,
at least, Paris is no longer in danger. I see that a change has come
over the Parisians, and I can read in their calm, confident faces the
brighter phase that the war has assumed. Parisians of every class, from
the _grande dame_ of the Faubourg Saint-Germain to the _midinette_ of
the Rue de la Paix, or the professional beauty of Montmartre, are
subdued and chastened by the sudden change that overtook their bright
and exuberant existence. During this first period of the war, Paris
assumed the aspect of a Scottish Sabbath. Feverish pursuit of pleasure,
earnest hard work, luxury, elegant distinction, thrift, thronged
boulevards, crowded theaters, clamorous music halls, frisky supper
parties, tango teas, overflowing gaiety, sparkling wit, boisterous fun,
and sly humor, have all vanished. The machinery of Parisian life is
working at quarter speed. Streets are nearly deserted, except for
rapidly flitting automobiles, used mostly for military purposes. The Rue
de la Paix is a vacant pathway, where one might play lawn tennis all day
long. Probably three fourths of the Paris shops are still closed. The
underground trains are as yet few and far between. Now and then a
tramway rumbles along the streets, but there is not a solitary omnibus
running in the city. The popularity of the bicycle is regained, for
well-to-do folk whose motor-cars have been requisitioned now make use of
the humble wheel. The quaint, one-horse cab, evoking souvenirs of
Mürger, Paul de Kock, and Guy de Maupassant, with venerable _cocher_,
re-appears. There are some auto-taxicabs about, and their slowly
increasing number indicates that Paris is beginning to shake off the
paralysis imposed by the outbreak of the war. Undisturbed by the
turmoil, the forty "immortal" Academicians are continuing their labors
on the Dictionary of the Academy. They are approaching the end of the
letter "E" and are to-day discussing, with singular actuality, the word
"Exodus." May that mean the German exodus from French soil!
THE END