LES DÉFENSEURS DE NOTRE PATRIE
The rate of mortality was lamentably high, for the men coming into the
hospital were not only badly wounded, but also in bad condition; and
tetanus and gas gangrene, shock and sepsis claimed their victims. The
recovery of the French soldiers was hindered by the painful impression
made on them by the invasion of their country. In delirium or under the
anæsthetic they raved of their _patrie_, of her beauty and of their
love for her; and horror and fear of the German dominated their minds.
The men who owned and loved the soil spoke on their deathbeds always
and only of France. They were tormented with anxiety for her safety
and welfare; and the mental agony which they endured lessened their
vitality and power of resistance.
The mortuary was arranged in the hall which had been designed for a
grill-room. It had a separate entrance from the street, and was lit by
a beautiful ‘plafond lumière.’ Departed heroes, surrounded by flowers,
lay before the temporary altar: the laurel wreath was not wanting; nor
was reverent care from their countrywomen lacking.
Funerals were arranged to leave the hospital at 8 A.M. For some of them
the chaplain came to the hospital to read the first part of the Service
in the Chapel; for others this was read in the Church of S. Philippe du
Roule. In the sunshine of the autumn mornings an attentive, sympathetic
little crowd used to gather round the entrance of the Hôtel. The coffin
would be placed on an open hearse, and covered by the national flag of
the soldier who lay there. A picket of soldiers and a detachment of
police accompanied the hearse, and the undertaker in evening dress,
with cocked hat and blue and red scarf of office, led the way. The
police laid palms on the coffin, tied with a broad ribbon, on which was
inscribed: ‘Pour les Défenseurs de notre Patrie’; and another wreath
was sent by the military authorities. It was made of bead flowers with
a plate, on which was written: ‘Souvenir français’ for the British
soldiers, and ‘À notre Brave qui est mort pour la patrie’ for the
French. Members of the staff accompanied the hearse. Sometimes M.
Aubry went too, or the hairdresser from across the way, for he learnt
to know the men by coming regularly and gratuitously to shave them.
Constantly a little old lady attended, English by birth and French by
habit. She was aged and poor; and the only war service within her power
was that of following British soldiers to the grave. No one knew how
she heard that a death had occurred; but she constantly arrived with
a rose blessed by the Pope to lay in the coffin, and a request to be
told the hour next morning. The orderlies used to say that she looked
disappointed if they told her that men who were seriously ill were
better. Be that as it may, she was faithful in the service she had laid
down for herself; and her pathetic little figure, in straw bonnet and
much worn sealskin jacket, was seldom absent when the sad procession
started from the Hôtel.
In the autumn of 1914 eight o’clock was Paris’s most beautiful hour:
the newly watered Champs Élysées shone blue with the reflection of the
sky, and the leaves on the lime trees shone gold in the sunlight. As
the hearse made its way to the church, women ran to lay flowers on the
coffin, men stood in silent salute, and the pious crossed themselves
and said a prayer.
On the steps of the church the beadle stood waiting, a wonderful
presence, six foot high and corpulent, impressive in his laced coat
and three-cornered hat, and bearing a staff of ebony topped by a large
silver knob. He marched up the church in front of the procession,
rattling his staff on the stones at every third step, and continued
during the service to act as director and usher. The services were
held in the Lady Chapel, and at intervals his staff would rattle on
the aisle, and with a bow to either side he would give directions
‘s’asseoir, messieurs et mesdames.’
After the service the hospital staff waited in the side aisle whilst
the coffin was carried out, and at these times kindly old people came
to ask about the dead soldier. Was he English or French? wounded
or sick? Had he a wife and children? How many _blessés_ lay in the
hospital?
And benedictions, gratitude and five-franc pieces were bestowed upon
‘les dames anglaises.’
In the cemetery of St. Pantin, outside Paris, the rows of graves and
wooden crosses increased in number, and French and British side by side
lay at rest.