You see I am in Paris and am staying at the house of my _marraine_. I
wrote you a letter in Châteaudun which was lost through my fault. I
wrote father a letter a week ago and carried it till yesterday without
mailing. The other letter I mailed, which you should receive, left Tours
over two weeks ago. This all goes to prove I am getting careless in my
letter writing, for goodness knows there has been so much to write about
that I scarcely know where to begin. In the first place, I am a pilot—no
longer an _élève_ pilot. My brevet is gained and I am recommended for a
Nieuport—that is a fighting machine—all of which is as it should be.
They overlooked my smash-up, as it was the fault of the motor.
Having finished at Tours, I went for a day’s sight-seeing to Blois.
There I saw the grand old historic château of Catherine de’ Medici, and
the beautiful architectural dream, the château of Chambord. It was a
pleasant day, starting at six in the morning and ending with a five-mile
walk between twelve and two-thirty last night. Then by a little
flower-tossing, I got them to extend my _permission_ so as not to
include the day at Blois, and left for Paris. I came to my _marraine_ at
eight-thirty in the evening of Saturday, October 29, and she gave me a
room. They have entertained me most generously ever since. I told you of
her family in another letter. The daughter, who married a captain, looks
for all the world like Marie Antoinette and keeps up an unending
flirtation with her husband with refined French coquetry, which is a
delight to watch. The two children of the other daughter are jolly
little youngsters. We have an hour’s romp in the evening, and they have
become my shadows. I have been doing Paris, as one might say. I have
visited Napoleon’s tomb, the Palais de Justice, Sainte Chapelle, the
jewel of Gothic architecture, Notre Dame de Paris, Sacred Heart, the
Madeleine, and numerous other well-known sights of Paris. I have seen a
French vaudeville, a French cinema opera, an afternoon musical of the
first order, and four operas: _Madame Butterfly_, _Werther_, _Sapho_,
_Cavalleria Rusticana_, and a little opéra comique. Never have things
come my way stronger to make for a pleasant time. Outside of my clothes,
my expenses for the week will not exceed twenty-five dollars, such is
the manner of French courtesy.
You should see your son. Never has an Ely come so near being a dandy.
Picture a modish khaki uniform of French cut and the best cloth, with a
high collar, gold buttons, gold wings on the collar, a khaki cap with a
gold crescent of the Foreign Legion on it, a Sam Brown belt and high
leather boots of a well-kept mahogany brown, and over all, a very
distinctive and refined Burbury coat and gray gloves. The effect is
worth two hundred and fifty francs for the suit, one hundred and
sixty-five francs for boots, one hundred and forty francs for overcoat,
thirty-five francs for belt; everything is of the best and will serve as
my officer’s outfit In the U. S. Army with a few minor changes. I felt I
had better have the wherewithal to dress well when I was entertained,
and I have not regretted it.
Yesterday I met two Chicago ladies. Some time after Christmas one of
them might call at father’s office to say that she saw me.
The other day when walking from the flying school to the station in
leaving for Paris, Frazier Hale, of Cherry Street, passed me in a
machine. He yelled, and I did, and that was all. There will probably be
a growing frequency of such meetings as time passes. In war news we hear
of ignominious defeat in the Italian sector and good work in the French
sector. Your war news is more reliable than ours, no doubt. I shall
follow father’s advice as to study of the map. The first book on
aeronautics arrived last Saturday and seemed satisfactory, though I have
not taken time to read more than the introduction. I have plenty of
general reading material at my disposal now in the way of history,
aeronautical study, and novels by classic and modern writers.
Now, I do not see how anyone could hope to be an architect without
seeing the works of this old country. I never knew what design or
interior decoration or landscape gardening were before. Every day
reveals a new jewel whose impression may leave an idea for future work.
Certainly the unconscious assimilation of ideas and proportions will be
invaluable. I am not endeavoring to drive myself into following any of
these new interests, as I feel it essential to conserve all physical and
nervous energy for what will probably be the greatest tax on my life at
the Front. My natural tastes seem good enough for the present to lead me
to an enjoyment of the best, and I am experiencing the novelty for the
first time in my life of living entirely according to my natural
taste—not that I have ever been cramped, but family environment and
educational influence have always dictated my course in life. Now I am
swimming entirely alone, and it is pleasant for a new man. This living
abroad puts one in tune with the ways of the world.
My love to you all.
Your son,