Part 10 (1/2)
Sunday, September 6.
Thirty-fifth day of the war. Ideal September weather, with light easterly wind. Temperature at five P.M. 24 degrees centigrade. The moon is now full.
Instead of making a ferocious attaque brusquee on Paris, the four army corps composing the German right wing are moving southeastward, in a supreme effort to crush the left flank of the French center, which is reported to be engaged with the main German forces near Rethel, striving to cut off and surround the French center, and thus achieve a second, but far more gigantic, Sedan. In any event, the Germans are certainly moving away from Paris to the southeast.
Paris a.s.sumes a holiday aspect. Thousands of people made excursions to the suburbs of the city, and particularly to the Bois de Boulogne, to see something of the preparations for the defence. Boys and girls from boarding-schools, under care of their teachers, were among those who watched gangs of men digging wide and deep trenches, while trees that obstructed the ground in the vicinity were being cut down.
The daily crop of Paris newspapers is becoming beautifully less. The Temps published its last Paris issue on Friday and has transferred its headquarters to Bordeaux. M. Georges Clemenceau's Homme Libre has ceased to appear. So also have the Gil Blas and Autorite. The Daily Mail has migrated to Bordeaux. Most of the newspapers that remain are published on a single sheet. The veteran Journal des Debats announces that for one hundred and twenty-five years it has appeared in Paris, being interrupted only at rare and brief intervals when provisional governments, resulting from violence, by brute force prevented publication. Le Journal des Debats will continue to be printed and published in Paris ”so long as it is materially possible to do so.” M. Arthur Meyer, editor and proprietor of Le Gaulois, announces that he will ”remain in Paris in 1914 as he did in 1870.” He will continue to edit and publish the Gaulois in Paris, having around him ”a small family of editors and reporters, who replace my own family, now, Alas! far away!” The Echo de Paris continues to publish each day an edition of four pages. So also does Le Figaro. The Matin and Liberte appear on single sheets.
[Photograph: Photo. by Paul Thompson. Workmen erecting a barricade in Paris.]
The European edition of the New York Herald appears every day on its nice white glazed papier de luxe, in a four-page edition Sundays, and on a single sheet on week days. The Paris Herald, as it is familiarly called, is printed half in English and half in French. The war has not frightened away the venerable ”Old Philadelphia Lady,” who daily continues, as she has done since Christmas eve, 1899, to put the following question:
TO THE EDITOR OF THE HERALD:-
I am anxious to find out the way to figure the temperature from Centigrade to Fahrenheit and vice-versa. In other words, I want to know, whenever I see the temperature designated on Centigrade thermometer, how to find out what it would be on Fahrenheit's thermometer.
OLD PHILADELPHIA LADY.
Paris, December 24, 1899.
Monday, September 7.
Thirty-sixth day of the war. Hot September weather, with brisk east wind. Temperature at five P.M. 24 degrees centigrade.
The great battle begun Sunday morning continues with slight advantages obtained by the allies and extends over a front of one hundred and thirty miles, from Nanteuil le Haudoin, on the allied left, to Verdun. The allies occupy very strong positions. Their left is supported by Paris, their right by the fortresses of Verdun, and their center by the entrenched camps of Mailly, just south of Vitry-le-Francois.
About thirty American and English newspaper men met at lunch to-day at the restaurant Hubin, Number 22 Rue Brouot. Among those present were Fullerton, Grundy, MacAlpin, Williams, Knox, Reeves, O'Niel, Sims, and others. Every one was in fine spirits, the trend of feeling being that Paris was the most interesting place to be in just now, and that perhaps the best story of the war may yet be written in Paris.
I drove in a cab with MacAlpin to the Gare du Nord to meet a train of British wounded that was expected to arrive there. We found the station almost deserted. A reserve captain of the Forty-sixth Infantry, whose left forearm had been smashed by a sh.e.l.l, arrived and was very glad to get some hot soup provided by the railroad ambulance women. Saw a brigadier-general and his staff going full speed in a motor-car to the east. Artillery firing was heard this morning to the east of Paris, but was no longer audible after eleven A.M. While sitting at a cafe opposite the Gare du Nord, I noticed the huge statues of ”Berlin” and ”Vienna” over the front of the building, and wondered if they would remain intact during the war. Driving to the Gare de l'Est, we saw gangs of workmen with entrenching tools, going into trains, under the direction of engineer officers, to dig rifle pits.
The sanitary condition of Paris is excellent. No epidemic of any kind is reported. There were several cases of scarlatina, but the number is insignificant.
The board of governors of the American Hospital has turned over its responsibility to the American Ambulance Committee, which will manage the Hospital service for the benefit of the French army, at the Lycee Pasteur, Neuilly. The committee is composed of William S. Dalliba, honorary chairman, Reverend Doctor S.N. Watson, chairman, Messrs. Laurence B. Benet, Charles Carroll, F.W. Monahan, and I.V. Twyeffort.
I met in the Rue de la Paix two Irish cavalry soldiers, who had become detached from their squadron during the operations north of Paris. ”The last place we remember fighting at was Copenhagen,” said one of the men. But on being further questioned, it turned out that Copenhagen was Tipperary dialect for Compiegne.
The Herald has decided to remain in Paris, but its price will be twenty-five centimes instead of fifteen centimes. The reasons for the increased price are that advertis.e.m.e.nts, the main source of revenue for a newspaper, have almost completely disappeared. The Herald at present is being run at a loss of thirty-five thousand francs a week. As the editor points out: ”This may be journalism, but it is not business.” The increased price will probably diminish the weekly loss.
Tuesday, September 8.
Thirty-seventh day of the war. Cloudy weather with rain in the afternoon. Brisk southeasterly wind. Thermometer at five P.M. 22 degrees centigrade.
The allied armies are more than holding their own on the vast line between the Ourcq and Verdun. Meanwhile all precautions are being taken by the Military Government of Paris for an eventual siege. The Bois de Boulogne resembles a cattle ranch. The census of the civil population of the ”entrenched camp of Paris,” just taken with a view of providing rations during a possible siege, shows that there are 887,267 families residing in Paris, representing a total of 2,106,786 individuals of all ages and both s.e.xes. This is a decrease of thirty percent since the last census in 1911. The health of the city is excellent. The census sheets notify inhabitants that gas during a siege must be used exclusively for lighting purposes and never for cooking or heating. This will cause some tribulation in the small menages, where the cheap, popular, and handy gas-stove has replaced the coal or charcoal ovens and ranges.
The ram came on this afternoon at four, while a large crowd of Parisians stood in the square in front of the church of Saint-Etienne du Mont, beside the Pantheon, but it failed to disperse the faithful, who were taking part in the outdoor service of homage to Sainte-Genevieve, the protectress of Paris, whose remains are buried in this small church of the Gothic-Renaissance period (1517-1620), one of the most beautiful of all the sacred edifices of France.
Those who recently hastened away from Paris in search of a place of refuge, quiet, and safety, have met with many disappointments. The roads to Tours are blocked with vehicles of every description, many of them filled with refugees who have turned them into temporary dwellings. Automobiles are brought to a standstill for lack of benzol. Everything on the way from Paris to Bordeaux is requisitioned. At Orleans, people wander about vainly seeking a place in which to sleep. The town is filled. People buy ham and sausages, which they eat in cafes or in the streets. At Blois, the citizens offer to lodge refugees and travelers at the rate of five francs a day. The Blois people are very hospitable and do not seek to unduly profit by the situation. The Grand Hotel is of course overflowing, but the prices remain the same as in ordinary times. At Tours, the inhabitants are less hospitable and more avaricious. One of the biggest hotels in the town asks fifty francs (ten dollars) for a simple armchair in which to pa.s.s the night. Three special trains yesterday carried away to Provence the inmates of the insane asylums of Bicetre and Charenton. It was a weird sight to see these men and women, utterly unconscious of the war, gazing with nervous uncertainty upon the strange scenes through which they were conducted to the Orleans Station, somewhat like helpless flocks of sheep.
Shortly after leaving the large room at Number 31 Boulevard des Invalides, where the official communiques are now given out to the French and foreign press, I met a sergeant of an infantry regiment who had been wounded during the fighting between Coulommier and Ferte-Gaucher. ”At daybreak on Sunday,” he said, ”we were sent forward to prevent the German infantry from making their favorite turning movement on our left wing. Our orders were to hold on to the enemy and prevent his advance until the allied troops near Meaux had repulsed the German attack being made in their direction. Early in the afternoon, the Germans retired from Meaux before the allied divisions. We advanced and drove them north of Ferte-Gaucher. The fighting lasted all night and became very severe on Monday morning, but shortly afterwards the Germans offered but slight resistance. For thirty kilometers we followed up two German infantry regiments, supported by their cavalry and a section of artillery. During their retreat, the Germans did not fire a single shot. We soon succeeded in cutting off a detachment of infantry and in capturing seven field guns and two machine guns. One of the prisoners, an infantry sergeant, admitted that his men were short of ammunition, and that their orders were to use as little of it as possible. It was during the last combat that I was wounded in the thigh by a Prussian officer, who cut me with his sword as I was trying to disarm him.”