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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/4550-h.zip b/4550-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b6a4238 --- /dev/null +++ b/4550-h.zip diff --git a/4550-h/4550-h.htm b/4550-h/4550-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..df4f416 --- /dev/null +++ b/4550-h/4550-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4555 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<HTML> +<HEAD> + +<META HTTP-EQUIV="Content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> + +<TITLE> +The Project Gutenberg E-text of Fighting France, by Edith Wharton +</TITLE> + +<STYLE TYPE="text/css"> +BODY { color: Black; + background: White; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +P {text-indent: 4% } + +P.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +P.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: small } + +P.letter {text-indent: 0%; + font-size: small ; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.footnote {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.transnote {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.intro {font-size: medium ; + text-indent: -5% ; + margin-left: 5% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +</STYLE> + +</HEAD> + +<BODY> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Fighting France, by Edith Wharton + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Fighting France + From Dunkerque to Belport + +Author: Edith Wharton + +Posting Date: August 8, 2009 [EBook #4550] +Release Date: October, 2003 +First Posted: February 8, 2002 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FIGHTING FRANCE *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo. HTML version by Al Haines. + + + + + +</pre> + + +<BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +FIGHTING FRANCE +</H1> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +FROM DUNKERQUE TO BELPORT +</H2> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BY EDITH WHARTON +</H3> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +NEW YORK: MCMXV +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CONTENTS +</H2> + +<H4> + <A HREF="#paris">THE LOOK OF PARIS</A><BR> + <A HREF="#argonne">IN ARGONNE</A><BR> + <A HREF="#lorraine">IN LORRAINE AND THE VOSGES</A><BR> + <A HREF="#north">IN THE NORTH</A><BR> + <A HREF="#alsace">IN ALSACE</A><BR> + <A HREF="#tone">THE TONE OF FRANCE</A><BR> +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="paris"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE LOOK OF PARIS +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +(AUGUST, 1914—FEBUARY, 1915) +</H4> + +<BR> + +<H4> +I +</H4> + +<H4> +AUGUST +</H4> + +<P> +On the 30th of July, 1914, motoring north from Poitiers, we had +lunched somewhere by the roadside under apple-trees on the edge of a +field. Other fields stretched away on our right and left to a border +of woodland and a village steeple. All around was noonday quiet, and +the sober disciplined landscape which the traveller's memory is apt +to evoke as distinctively French. Sometimes, even to accustomed +eyes, these ruled-off fields and compact grey villages seem merely +flat and tame; at other moments the sensitive imagination sees in +every thrifty sod and even furrow the ceaseless vigilant attachment +of generations faithful to the soil. The particular bit of landscape +before us spoke in all its lines of that attachment. The air seemed +full of the long murmur of human effort, the rhythm of oft-repeated +tasks, the serenity of the scene smiled away the war rumours which +had hung on us since morning. +</P> + +<P> +All day the sky had been banked with thunder-clouds, but by the time +we reached Chartres, toward four o'clock, they had rolled away under +the horizon, and the town was so saturated with sunlight that to +pass into the cathedral was like entering the dense obscurity of a +church in Spain. At first all detail was imperceptible; we were in a +hollow night. Then, as the shadows gradually thinned and gathered +themselves up into pier and vault and ribbing, there burst out of +them great sheets and showers of colour. Framed by such depths of +darkness, and steeped in a blaze of mid-summer sun, the familiar +windows seemed singularly remote and yet overpoweringly vivid. Now +they widened into dark-shored pools splashed with sunset, now +glittered and menaced like the shields of fighting angels. Some were +cataracts of sapphires, others roses dropped from a saint's tunic, +others great carven platters strewn with heavenly regalia, others +the sails of galleons bound for the Purple Islands; and in the +western wall the scattered fires of the rose-window hung like a +constellation in an African night. When one dropped one's eyes form +these ethereal harmonies, the dark masses of masonry below them, all +veiled and muffled in a mist pricked by a few altar lights, seemed +to symbolize the life on earth, with its shadows, its heavy +distances and its little islands of illusion. All that a great +cathedral can be, all the meanings it can express, all the +tranquilizing power it can breathe upon the soul, all the richness +of detail it can fuse into a large utterance of strength and beauty, +the cathedral of Chartres gave us in that perfect hour. +</P> + +<P> +It was sunset when we reached the gates of Paris. Under the heights +of St. Cloud and Suresnes the reaches of the Seine trembled with the +blue-pink lustre of an early Monet. The Bois lay about us in the +stillness of a holiday evening, and the lawns of Bagatelle were as +fresh as June. Below the Arc de Triomphe, the Champs Elysees sloped +downward in a sun-powdered haze to the mist of fountains and the +ethereal obelisk; and the currents of summer life ebbed and flowed +with a normal beat under the trees of the radiating avenues. The +great city, so made for peace and art and all humanest graces, +seemed to lie by her river-side like a princess guarded by the +watchful giant of the Eiffel Tower. +</P> + +<P> +The next day the air was thundery with rumours. Nobody believed +them, everybody repeated them. War? Of course there couldn't be war! +The Cabinets, like naughty children, were again dangling their feet +over the edge; but the whole incalculable weight of things-as-they-were, +of the daily necessary business of living, continued calmly and +convincingly to assert itself against the bandying of diplomatic +words. Paris went on steadily about her mid-summer business of +feeding, dressing, and amusing the great army of tourists who were +the only invaders she had seen for nearly half a century. +</P> + +<P> +All the while, every one knew that other work was going on also. The +whole fabric of the country's seemingly undisturbed routine was +threaded with noiseless invisible currents of preparation, the sense +of them was in the calm air as the sense of changing weather is in +the balminess of a perfect afternoon. Paris counted the minutes till +the evening papers came. +</P> + +<P> +They said little or nothing except what every one was already +declaring all over the country. "We don't want war—<I>mais it faut +que cela finisse!</I>" "This kind of thing has got to stop": that was +the only phase one heard. If diplomacy could still arrest the war, +so much the better: no one in France wanted it. All who spent the +first days of August in Paris will testify to the agreement of +feeling on that point. But if war had to come, the country, and +every heart in it, was ready. +</P> + +<P> +At the dressmaker's, the next morning, the tired fitters were +preparing to leave for their usual holiday. They looked pale and +anxious—decidedly, there was a new weight of apprehension in the +air. And in the rue Royale, at the corner of the Place de la +Concorde, a few people had stopped to look at a little strip of +white paper against the wall of the Ministere de la Marine. "General +mobilization" they read—and an armed nation knows what that means. +But the group about the paper was small and quiet. Passers by read +the notice and went on. There were no cheers, no gesticulations: the +dramatic sense of the race had already told them that the event was +too great to be dramatized. Like a monstrous landslide it had fallen +across the path of an orderly laborious nation, disrupting its +routine, annihilating its industries, rending families apart, and +burying under a heap of senseless ruin the patiently and painfully +wrought machinery of civilization... +</P> + +<P> +That evening, in a restaurant of the rue Royale, we sat at a table +in one of the open windows, abreast with the street, and saw the +strange new crowds stream by. In an instant we were being shown what +mobilization was—a huge break in the normal flow of traffic, like +the sudden rupture of a dyke. The street was flooded by the torrent +of people sweeping past us to the various railway stations. All were +on foot, and carrying their luggage; for since dawn every cab and +taxi and motor—omnibus had disappeared. The War Office had thrown +out its drag-net and caught them all in. The crowd that passed our +window was chiefly composed of conscripts, the <I>mobilisables</I> of the +first day, who were on the way to the station accompanied by their +families and friends; but among them were little clusters of +bewildered tourists, labouring along with bags and bundles, and +watching their luggage pushed before them on hand-carts—puzzled +inarticulate waifs caught in the cross-tides racing to a maelstrom. +</P> + +<P> +In the restaurant, the befrogged and red-coated band poured out +patriotic music, and the intervals between the courses that so few +waiters were left to serve were broken by the ever-recurring +obligation to stand up for the Marseillaise, to stand up for God +Save the King, to stand up for the Russian National Anthem, to stand +up again for the Marseillaise. "<I>Et dire que ce sont des Hongrois +qui jouent tout cela!"</I> a humourist remarked from the pavement. +</P> + +<P> +As the evening wore on and the crowd about our window thickened, the +loiterers outside began to join in the war-songs. "<I>Allons, debout!</I> +"—and the loyal round begins again. "La chanson du depart" is a +frequent demand; and the chorus of spectators chimes in roundly. A +sort of quiet humour was the note of the street. Down the rue +Royale, toward the Madeleine, the bands of other restaurants were +attracting other throngs, and martial refrains were strung along the +Boulevard like its garlands of arc-lights. It was a night of singing +and acclamations, not boisterous, but gallant and determined. It was +Paris <I>badauderie</I> at its best. +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile, beyond the fringe of idlers the steady stream of +conscripts still poured along. Wives and families trudged beside +them, carrying all kinds of odd improvised bags and bundles. The +impression disengaging itself from all this superficial confusion +was that of a cheerful steadiness of spirit. The faces ceaselessly +streaming by were serious but not sad; nor was there any air of +bewilderment—the stare of driven cattle. All these lads and young +men seemed to know what they were about and why they were about it. +The youngest of them looked suddenly grown up and responsible; they +understood their stake in the job, and accepted it. +</P> + +<P> +The next day the army of midsummer travel was immobilized to let the +other army move. No more wild rushes to the station, no more bribing +of concierges, vain quests for invisible cabs, haggard hours of +waiting in the queue at Cook's. No train stirred except to carry +soldiers, and the civilians who had not bribed and jammed their way +into a cranny of the thronged carriages leaving the first night +could only creep back through the hot streets to their hotel and +wait. Back they went, disappointed yet half-relieved, to the +resounding emptiness of porterless halls, waiterless restaurants, +motionless lifts: to the queer disjointed life of fashionable hotels +suddenly reduced to the intimacies and make-shift of a Latin +Quarter <I>pension.</I> Meanwhile it was strange to watch the gradual +paralysis of the city. As the motors, taxis, cabs and vans had +vanished from the streets, so the lively little steamers had left +the Seine. The canal-boats too were gone, or lay motionless: loading +and unloading had ceased. Every great architectural opening framed +an emptiness; all the endless avenues stretched away to desert +distances. In the parks and gardens no one raked the paths or +trimmed the borders. The fountains slept in their basins, the +worried sparrows fluttered unfed, and vague dogs, shaken out of +their daily habits, roamed unquietly, looking for familiar eyes. +Paris, so intensely conscious yet so strangely entranced, seemed to +have had <I>curare</I> injected into all her veins. +</P> + +<P> +The next day—the 2nd of August—from the terrace of the Hotel +de Crillon one looked down on a first faint stir of returning life. +Now and then a taxi-cab or a private motor crossed the Place de la +Concorde, carrying soldiers to the stations. Other conscripts, in +detachments, tramped by on foot with bags and banners. One +detachment stopped before the black-veiled statue of Strasbourg and +laid a garland at her feet. In ordinary times this demonstration +would at once have attracted a crowd; but at the very moment when it +might have been expected to provoke a patriotic outburst it excited +no more attention than if one of the soldiers had turned aside to +give a penny to a beggar. The people crossing the square did not +even stop to look. The meaning of this apparent indifference was +obvious. When an armed nation mobilizes, everybody is busy, and busy +in a definite and pressing way. It is not only the fighters that +mobilize: those who stay behind must do the same. For each French +household, for each individual man or woman in France, war means a +complete reorganization of life. The detachment of conscripts, +unnoticed, paid their tribute to the Cause and passed on... +</P> + +<P> +Looked back on from these sterner months those early days in Paris, +in their setting of grave architecture and summer skies, wear the +light of the ideal and the abstract. The sudden flaming up of +national life, the abeyance of every small and mean preoccupation, +cleared the moral air as the streets had been cleared, and made the +spectator feel as though he were reading a great poem on War rather +than facing its realities. +</P> + +<P> +Something of this sense of exaltation seemed to penetrate the +throngs who streamed up and down the Boulevards till late into the +night. All wheeled traffic had ceased, except that of the rare +taxi-cabs impressed to carry conscripts to the stations; and the +middle of the Boulevards was as thronged with foot-passengers as an +Italian market-place on a Sunday morning. The vast tide swayed up +and down at a slow pace, breaking now and then to make room for one +of the volunteer "legions" which were forming at every corner: +Italian, Roumanian, South American, North American, each headed by +its national flag and hailed with cheering as it passed. But even +the cheers were sober: Paris was not to be shaken out of her +self-imposed serenity. One felt something nobly conscious and +voluntary in the mood of this quiet multitude. Yet it was a mixed +throng, made up of every class, from the scum of the Exterior +Boulevards to the cream of the fashionable restaurants. These +people, only two days ago, had been leading a thousand different +lives, in indifference or in antagonism to each other, as alien as +enemies across a frontier: now workers and idlers, thieves, beggars, +saints, poets, drabs and sharpers, genuine people and showy shams, +were all bumping up against each other in an instinctive community +of emotion. The "people," luckily, predominated; the faces of +workers look best in such a crowd, and there were thousands of them, +each illuminated and singled out by its magnesium-flash of passion. +</P> + +<P> +I remember especially the steady-browed faces of the women; and also +the small but significant fact that every one of them had remembered +to bring her dog. The biggest of these amiable companions had to +take their chance of seeing what they could through the forest of +human legs; but every one that was portable was snugly lodged in the +bend of an elbow, and from this safe perch scores and scores of +small serious muzzles, blunt or sharp, smooth or woolly, brown or +grey or white or black or brindled, looked out on the scene with the +quiet awareness of the Paris dog. It was certainly a good sign that +they had not been forgotten that night. +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4> +II +</H4> + +<P> +WE had been shown, impressively, what it was to live through a +mobilization; now we were to learn that mobilization is only one of +the concomitants of martial law, and that martial law is not +comfortable to live under—at least till one gets used to it. +</P> + +<P> +At first its main purpose, to the neutral civilian, seemed certainly +to be the wayward pleasure of complicating his life; and in that +line it excelled in the last refinements of ingenuity. Instructions +began to shower on us after the lull of the first days: instructions +as to what to do, and what not to do, in order to make our presence +tolerable and our persons secure. In the first place, foreigners +could not remain in France without satisfying the authorities as to +their nationality and antecedents; and to do this necessitated +repeated ineffective visits to chanceries, consulates and police +stations, each too densely thronged with flustered applicants to +permit the entrance of one more. Between these vain pilgrimages, the +traveller impatient to leave had to toil on foot to distant railway +stations, from which he returned baffled by vague answers and +disheartened by the declaration that tickets, when achievable, must +also be <I>vises</I> by the police. There was a moment when it seemed +that ones inmost thoughts had to have that unobtainable <I>visa</I>—to +obtain which, more fruitless hours must be lived on grimy stairways +between perspiring layers of fellow-aliens. Meanwhile one's money +was probable running short, and one must cable or telegraph for +more. Ah—but cables and telegrams must be <I>vises</I> too—and even +when they were, one got no guarantee that they would be sent! Then +one could not use code addresses, and the ridiculous number of words +contained in a New York address seemed to multiply as the francs in +one's pockets diminished. And when the cable was finally dispatched +it was either lost on the way, or reached its destination only to +call forth, after anxious days, the disheartening response: +"Impossible at present. Making every effort." It is fair to add +that, tedious and even irritating as many of these transactions +were, they were greatly eased by the sudden uniform good-nature of +the French functionary, who, for the first time, probably, in the +long tradition of his line, broke through its fundamental rule and +was kind. +</P> + +<P> +Luckily, too, these incessant comings and goings involved much +walking of the beautiful idle summer streets, which grew idler and +more beautiful each day. Never had such blue-grey softness of +afternoon brooded over Paris, such sunsets turned the heights of the +Trocadero into Dido's Carthage, never, above all, so rich a moon +ripened through such perfect evenings. The Seine itself had no small +share in this mysterious increase of the city's beauty. Released +from all traffic, its hurried ripples smoothed themselves into long +silken reaches in which quays and monuments at last saw their +unbroken images. At night the fire-fly lights of the boats had +vanished, and the reflections of the street lamps were lengthened +into streamers of red and gold and purple that slept on the calm +current like fluted water-weeds. Then the moon rose and took +possession of the city, purifying it of all accidents, calming and +enlarging it and giving it back its ideal lines of strength and +repose. There was something strangely moving in this new Paris of +the August evenings, so exposed yet so serene, as though her very +beauty shielded her. +</P> + +<P> +So, gradually, we fell into the habit of living under martial law. +After the first days of flustered adjustment the personal +inconveniences were so few that one felt almost ashamed of their not +being more, of not being called on to contribute some greater +sacrifice of comfort to the Cause. Within the first week over two +thirds of the shops had closed—the greater number bearing on their +shuttered windows the notice "Pour cause de mobilisation," which +showed that the "patron" and staff were at the front. But enough +remained open to satisfy every ordinary want, and the closing of the +others served to prove how much one could do without. Provisions +were as cheap and plentiful as ever, though for a while it was +easier to buy food than to have it cooked. The restaurants were +closing rapidly, and one often had to wander a long way for a meal, +and wait a longer time to get it. A few hotels still carried on a +halting life, galvanized by an occasional inrush of travel from +Belgium and Germany; but most of them had closed or were being +hastily transformed into hospitals. +</P> + +<P> +The signs over these hotel doors first disturbed the dreaming +harmony of Paris. In a night, as it seemed, the whole city was hung +with Red Crosses. Every other building showed the red and white band +across its front, with "Ouvroir" or "Hopital" beneath; there +was something sinister in these preparations for horrors in which +one could not yet believe, in the making of bandages for limbs yet +sound and whole, the spreading of pillows for heads yet carried +high. But insist as they would on the woe to come, these warning +signs did not deeply stir the trance of Paris. The first days of the +war were full of a kind of unrealizing confidence, not boastful or +fatuous, yet as different as possible from the clear-headed tenacity +of purpose that the experience of the next few months was to +develop. It is hard to evoke, without seeming to exaggerate it, that +the mood of early August: the assurance, the balance, the kind of +smiling fatalism with which Paris moved to her task. It is not +impossible that the beauty of the season and the silence of the city +may have helped to produce this mood. War, the shrieking fury, had +announced herself by a great wave of stillness. Never was desert +hush more complete: the silence of a street is always so much deeper +than the silence of wood or field. +</P> + +<P> +The heaviness of the August air intensified this impression of +suspended life. The days were dumb enough; but at night the hush +became acute. In the quarter I inhabit, always deserted in summer, +the shuttered streets were mute as catacombs, and the faintest +pin-prick of noise seemed to tear a rent in a black pall of silence. +I could hear the tired tap of a lame hoof half a mile away, and the +tread of the policeman guarding the Embassy across the street beat +against the pavement like a series of detonations. Even the +variegated noises of the city's waking-up had ceased. If any +sweepers, scavengers or rag-pickers still plied their trades they +did it as secretly as ghosts. I remember one morning being roused +out of a deep sleep by a sudden explosion of noise in my room. I sat +up with a start, and found I had been waked by a low-voiced exchange +of "Bonjours" in the street... +</P> + +<P> +Another fact that kept the reality of war from Paris was the curious +absence of troops in the streets. After the first rush of conscripts +hurrying to their military bases it might have been imagined that +the reign of peace had set in. While smaller cities were swarming +with soldiers no glitter of arms was reflected in the empty avenues +of the capital, no military music sounded through them. Paris +scorned all show of war, and fed the patriotism of her children on +the mere sight of her beauty. It was enough. +</P> + +<P> +Even when the news of the first ephemeral successes in Alsace began +to come in, the Parisians did not swerve from their even gait. The +newsboys did all the shouting—and even theirs was presently +silenced by decree. It seemed as though it had been unanimously, +instinctively decided that the Paris of 1914 should in no respect +resemble the Paris of 1870, and as though this resolution had passed +at birth into the blood of millions born since that fatal date, and +ignorant of its bitter lesson. The unanimity of self-restraint was +the notable characteristic of this people suddenly plunged into an +unsought and unexpected war. At first their steadiness of spirit +might have passed for the bewilderment of a generation born and bred +in peace, which did not yet understand what war implied. But it is +precisely on such a mood that easy triumphs might have been supposed +to have the most disturbing effect. It was the crowd in the street +that shouted "A Berlin!" in 1870; now the crowd in the street +continued to mind its own business, in spite of showers of extras +and too-sanguine bulletins. +</P> + +<P> +I remember the morning when our butcher's boy brought the news that +the first German flag had been hung out on the balcony of the +Ministry of War. Now I thought, the Latin will boil over! And I +wanted to be there to see. I hurried down the quiet rue de +Martignac, turned the corner of the Place Sainte Clotilde, and came +on an orderly crowd filling the street before the Ministry of War. +The crowd was so orderly that the few pacific gestures of the police +easily cleared a way for passing cabs, and for the military motors +perpetually dashing up. It was composed of all classes, and there +were many family groups, with little boys straddling their mothers' +shoulders, or lifted up by the policemen when they were too heavy +for their mothers. It is safe to say that there was hardly a man or +woman of that crowd who had not a soldier at the front; and there +before them hung the enemy's first flag—a splendid silk flag, white +and black and crimson, and embroidered in gold. It was the flag of +an Alsatian regiment—a regiment of Prussianized Alsace. It +symbolized all they most abhorred in the whole abhorrent job that +lay ahead of them; it symbolized also their finest ardour and their +noblest hate, and the reason why, if every other reason failed, +France could never lay down arms till the last of such flags was +low. And there they stood and looked at it, not dully or +uncomprehendingly, but consciously, advisedly, and in silence; as if +already foreseeing all it would cost to keep that flag and add to it +others like it; forseeing the cost and accepting it. There seemed to +be men's hearts even in the children of that crowd, and in the +mothers whose weak arms held them up. So they gazed and went on, and +made way for others like them, who gazed in their turn and went on +too. All day the crowd renewed itself, and it was always the same +crowd, intent and understanding and silent, who looked steadily at +the flag, and knew what its being there meant. That, in August, was +the look of Paris. +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4> +III +</H4> + +<H4> +FEBRUARY +</H4> + +<P> +FEBRUARY dusk on the Seine. The boats are plying again, but they +stop at nightfall, and the river is inky-smooth, with the same long +weed-like reflections as in August. Only the reflections are fewer +and paler; bright lights are muffled everywhere. The line of the +quays is scarcely discernible, and the heights of the Trocadero are +lost in the blur of night, which presently effaces even the firm +tower-tops of Notre-Dame. Down the damp pavements only a few street +lamps throw their watery zigzags. The shops are shut, and the +windows above them thickly curtained. The faces of the houses are +all blind. +</P> + +<P> +In the narrow streets of the Rive Gauche the darkness is even +deeper, and the few scattered lights in courts or "cites" create +effects of Piranesi-like mystery. The gleam of the chestnut-roaster's +brazier at a street corner deepens the sense of an old adventurous +Italy, and the darkness beyond seems full of cloaks and conspiracies. +I turn, on my way home, into an empty street between high garden +walls, with a single light showing far off at its farther end. Not a +soul is in sight between me and that light: my steps echo endlessly +in the silence. Presently a dim figure comes around the corner ahead +of me. Man or woman? Impossible to tell till I overtake it. The +February fog deepens the darkness, and the faces one passes are +indistinguishable. As for the numbers of the houses, no one thinks +of looking for them. If you know the quarter you count doors from +the corner, or try to puzzle out the familiar outline of a balcony +or a pediment; if you are in a strange street, you must ask at the +nearest tobacconist's—for, as for finding a policeman, a yard off +you couldn't tell him from your grandmother! +</P> + +<P> +Such, after six months of war, are the nights of Paris; the days are +less remarkable and less romantic. +</P> + +<P> +Almost all the early flush and shiver of romance is gone; or so at +least it seems to those who have watched the gradual revival of +life. It may appear otherwise to observers from other countries, +even from those involved in the war. After London, with all her +theaters open, and her machinery of amusement almost unimpaired, +Paris no doubt seems like a city on whom great issues weigh. But to +those who lived through that first sunlit silent month the streets +to-day show an almost normal activity. The vanishing of all the +motorbuses, and of the huge lumbering commercial vans, leaves many a +forgotten perspective open and reveals many a lost grace of +architecture; but the taxi-cabs and private motors are almost as +abundant as in peace-time, and the peril of pedestrianism is kept at +its normal pitch by the incessant dashing to and fro of those +unrivalled engines of destruction, the hospital and War Office +motors. Many shops have reopened, a few theatres are tentatively +producing patriotic drama or mixed programmes seasonal with +sentiment and mirth, and the cinema again unrolls its eventful +kilometres. +</P> + +<P> +For a while, in September and October, the streets were made +picturesque by the coming and going of English soldiery, and the +aggressive flourish of British military motors. Then the fresh faces +and smart uniforms disappeared, and now the nearest approach to +"militarism" which Paris offers to the casual sight-seer is the +occasional drilling of a handful of <I>piou-pious</I> on the muddy +reaches of the Place des Invalides. But there is another army in +Paris. Its first detachments came months ago, in the dark September +days—lamentable rear-guard of the Allies' retreat on Paris. Since +then its numbers have grown and grown, its dingy streams have +percolated through all the currents of Paris life, so that wherever +one goes, in every quarter and at every hour, among the busy +confident strongly-stepping Parisians one sees these other people, +dazed and slowly moving—men and women with sordid bundles on their +backs, shuffling along hesitatingly in their tattered shoes, +children dragging at their hands and tired-out babies pressed +against their shoulders: the great army of the Refugees. Their faces +are unmistakable and unforgettable. No one who has ever caught that +stare of dumb bewilderment—or that other look of concentrated +horror, full of the reflection of flames and ruins—can shake off +the obsession of the Refugees. The look in their eyes is part of the +look of Paris. It is the dark shadow on the brightness of the face +she turns to the enemy. These poor people cannot look across the +borders to eventual triumph. They belong mostly to a class whose +knowledge of the world's affairs is measured by the shadow of their +village steeple. They are no more curious of the laws of causation +than the thousands overwhelmed at Avezzano. They were ploughing and +sowing, spinning and weaving and minding their business, when +suddenly a great darkness full of fire and blood came down on them. +And now they are here, in a strange country, among unfamiliar faces +and new ways, with nothing left to them in the world but the memory +of burning homes and massacred children and young men dragged to +slavery, of infants torn from their mothers, old men trampled by +drunken heels and priests slain while they prayed beside the dying. +These are the people who stand in hundreds every day outside the +doors of the shelters improvised to rescue them, and who receive, in +return for the loss of everything that makes life sweet, or +intelligible, or at least endurable, a cot in a dormitory, a +meal-ticket—and perhaps, on lucky days, a pair of shoes... +</P> + +<P> +What are the Parisians doing meanwhile? For one thing—and the sign +is a good one—they are refilling the shops, and especially, of +course, the great "department stores." In the early war days there +was no stranger sight than those deserted palaces, where one strayed +between miles of unpurchased wares in quest of vanished salesmen. A +few clerks, of course, were left: enough, one would have thought, +for the rare purchasers who disturbed their meditations. But the few +there were did not care to be disturbed: they lurked behind their +walls of sheeting, their bastions of flannelette, as if ashamed to +be discovered. And when one had coaxed them out they went through +the necessary gestures automatically, as if mournfully wondering +that any one should care to buy. I remember once, at the Louvre, +seeing the whole force of a "department," including the salesman I +was trying to cajole into showing me some medicated gauze, desert +their posts simultaneously to gather about a motor-cyclist in a +muddy uniform who had dropped in to see his pals with tales from the +front. But after six months the pressure of normal appetites has +begun to reassert itself—and to shop is one of the normal appetites +of woman. I say "shop" instead of buy, to distinguish between the +dull purchase of necessities and the voluptuousness of acquiring +things one might do without. It is evident that many of the +thousands now fighting their way into the great shops must be +indulging in the latter delight. At a moment when real wants are +reduced to a minimum, how else account for the congestion of the +department store? Even allowing for the immense, the perpetual +buying of supplies for hospitals and work-rooms, the incessant +stoking-up of the innumerable centres of charitable production, +there is no explanation of the crowding of the other departments +except the fact that woman, however valiant, however tried, however +suffering and however self-denying, must eventually, in the long +run, and at whatever cost to her pocket and her ideals, begin to +shop again. She has renounced the theatre, she denies herself the +teo-rooms, she goes apologetically and furtively (and economically) +to concerts—but the swinging doors of the department stores suck +her irresistibly into their quicksand of remnants and reductions. +</P> + +<P> +No one, in this respect, would wish the look of Paris to be changed. +It is a good sign to see the crowds pouring into the shops again, +even though the sight is less interesting than that of the other +crowds streaming daily—and on Sunday in immensely augmented +numbers—across the Pont Alexandre III to the great court of the +Invalides where the German trophies are displayed. Here the heart of +France beats with a richer blood, and something of its glow passes +into foreign veins as one watches the perpetually renewed throngs +face to face with the long triple row of German guns. There are few +in those throngs to whom one of the deadly pack has not dealt a +blow; there are personal losses, lacerating memories, bound up with +the sight of all those evil engines. But personal sorrow is the +sentiment least visible in the look of Paris. It is not fanciful to +say that the Parisian face, after six months of trial, has acquired +a new character. The change seems to have affected the very stuff it +is moulded of, as though the long ordeal had hardened the poor human +clay into some dense commemorative substance. I often pass in the +street women whose faces look like memorial medals—idealized images +of what they were in the flesh. And the masks of some of the +men—those queer tormented Gallic masks, crushed-in and squat and a +little satyr-like—look like the bronzes of the Naples Museum, burnt +and twisted from their baptism of fire. But none of these faces +reveals a personal preoccupation: they are looking, one and all, at +France erect on her borders. Even the women who are comparing +different widths of Valenciennes at the lace-counter all have +something of that vision in their eyes—or else one does not see the +ones who haven't. +</P> + +<P> +It is still true of Paris that she has not the air of a capital in +arms. There are as few troops to be seen as ever, and but for the +coming and going of the orderlies attached to the War Office and the +Military Government, and the sprinkling of uniforms about the doors +of barracks, there would be no sign of war in the streets—no sign, +that is, except the presence of the wounded. It is only lately that +they have begun to appear, for in the early months of the war they +were not sent to Paris, and the splendidly appointed hospitals of +the capital stood almost empty, while others, all over the country, +were overcrowded. The motives for the disposal of the wounded have +been much speculated upon and variously explained: one of its +results may have been the maintaining in Paris of the extraordinary +moral health which has given its tone to the whole country, and +which is now sound and strong enough to face the sight of any +misery. +</P> + +<P> +And miseries enough it has to face. Day by day the limping figures +grow more numerous on the pavement, the pale bandaged heads more +frequent in passing carriages. In the stalls at the theatres and +concerts there are many uniforms; and their wearers usually have to +wait till the hall is emptied before they hobble out on a supporting +arm. Most of them are very young, and it is the expression of their +faces which I should like to picture and interpret as being the very +essence of what I have called the look of Paris. They are grave, +these young faces: one hears a great deal of the gaiety in the +trenches, but the wounded are not gay. Neither are they sad, +however. They are calm, meditative, strangely purified and matured. +It is as though their great experience had purged them of pettiness, +meanness and frivolity, burning them down to the bare bones of +character, the fundamental substance of the soul, and shaping that +substance into something so strong and finely tempered that for a +long time to come Paris will not care to wear any look unworthy of +the look on their faces. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="argonne"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +IN ARGONNE +</H3> + +<H4> +I +</H4> + +<P> +The permission to visit a few ambulances and evacuation hospitals +behind the lines gave me, at the end of February, my first sight of +War. +</P> + +<P> +Paris is no longer included in the military zone, either in fact or +in appearance. Though it is still manifestly under the war-cloud, +its air of reviving activity produces the illusion that the menace +which casts that cloud is far off not only in distance but in time. +Paris, a few months ago so alive to the nearness of the enemy, seems +to have grown completely oblivious of that nearness; and it is +startling, not more than twenty miles from the gates, to pass from +such an atmosphere of workaday security to the imminent sense of +war. +</P> + +<P> +Going eastward, one begins to feel the change just beyond Meaux. +Between that quiet episcopal city and the hill-town of Montmirail, +some forty miles farther east, there are no sensational evidences of +the great conflict of September—only, here and there, in an +unploughed field, or among the fresh brown furrows, a little mound +with a wooden cross and a wreath on it. Nevertheless, one begins to +perceive, by certain negative signs, that one is already in another +world. On the cold February day when we turned out of Meaux and took +the road to the Argonne, the change was chiefly shown by the curious +absence of life in the villages through which we passed. Now and +then a lonely ploughman and his team stood out against the sky, or a +child and an old woman looked from a doorway; but many of the fields +were fallow and most of the doorways empty. We passed a few carts +driven by peasants, a stray wood-cutter in a copse, a road-mender +hammering at his stones; but already the "civilian motor" had +disappeared, and all the dust-coloured cars dashing past us were +marked with the Red Cross or the number of an army division. At +every bridge and railway-crossing a sentinel, standing in the middle +of the road with lifted rifle, stopped the motor and examined our +papers. In this negative sphere there was hardly any other tangible +proof of military rule; but with the descent of the first hill +beyond Montmirail there came the positive feeling: <I>This is war!</I> +</P> + +<P> +Along the white road rippling away eastward over the dimpled country +the army motors were pouring by in endless lines, broken now and +then by the dark mass of a tramping regiment or the clatter of a +train of artillery. In the intervals between these waves of military +traffic we had the road to ourselves, except for the flashing past +of despatch-bearers on motor-cycles and of hideously hooting little +motors carrying goggled officers in goat-skins and woollen helmets. +</P> + +<P> +The villages along the road all seemed empty—not figuratively but +literally empty. None of them has suffered from the German invasion, +save by the destruction, here and there, of a single house on which +some random malice has wreaked itself; but since the general flight +in September all have remained abandoned, or are provisionally +occupied by troops, and the rich country between Montmirail and +Chalons is a desert. +</P> + +<P> +The first sight of Chame is extraordinarily exhilarating. The old +town lying so pleasantly between canal and river is the +Head-quarters of an army—not of a corps or of a division, but of a +whole army—and the network of grey provincial streets about the +Romanesque towers of Notre Dame rustles with the movement of war. +The square before the principal hotel—the incomparably named "Haute +Mere-Dieu"—is as vivid a sight as any scene of modern war +can be. Rows of grey motor-lorries and omnibuses do not lend +themselves to as happy groupings as a detachment of cavalry, and +spitting and spurting motor-cycles and "torpedo" racers are no +substitute for the glitter of helmets and the curvetting of +chargers; but once the eye has adapted itself to the ugly lines and +the neutral tints of the new warfare, the scene in that crowded +clattering square becomes positively brilliant. It is a vision of +one of the central functions of a great war, in all its concentrated +energy, without the saddening suggestions of what, on the distant +periphery, that energy is daily and hourly resulting in. Yet even +here such suggestions are never long out of sight; for one cannot +pass through Chalons without meeting, on their way from the station, +a long line of "eclopes"—the unwounded but battered, shattered, +frost-bitten, deafened and half-paralyzed wreckage of the +awful struggle. These poor wretches, in their thousands, are daily +shipped back from the front to rest and be restored; and it is a +grim sight to watch them limping by, and to meet the dazed stare of +eyes that have seen what one dare not picture. +</P> + +<P> +If one could think away the "'eclopes" in the streets and the +wounded in their hospitals, Chalons would be an invigorating +spectacle. When we drove up to the hotel even the grey motors and +the sober uniforms seemed to sparkle under the cold sky. The +continual coming and going of alert and busy messengers, the riding +up of officers (for some still ride!), the arrival of much-decorated +military personages in luxurious motors, the hurrying to and fro of +orderlies, the perpetual depleting and refilling of the long rows of +grey vans across the square, the movements of Red Cross ambulances +and the passing of detachments for the front, all these are sights +that the pacific stranger could forever gape at. And in the hotel, +what a clatter of swords, what a piling up of fur coats and +haversacks, what a grouping of bronzed energetic heads about the +packed tables in the restaurant! It is not easy for civilians to get +to Chalons, and almost every table is occupied by officers and +soldiers—for, once off duty, there seems to be no rank distinction +in this happy democratic army, and the simple private, if he chooses +to treat himself to the excellent fare of the Haute Mere-Dieu, has +as good a right to it as his colonel. +</P> + +<P> +The scene in the restaurant is inexhaustibly interesting. The mere +attempt to puzzle out the different uniforms is absorbing. A week's +experience near the front convinces me that no two uniforms in the +French army are alike either in colour or in cut. Within the last +two years the question of colour has greatly preoccupied the French +military authorities, who have been seeking an invisible blue; and +the range of their experiments is proved by the extraordinary +variety of shades of blue, ranging from a sort of greyish +robin's-egg to the darkest navy, in which the army is clothed. The +result attained is the conviction that no blue is really +inconspicuous, and that some of the harsh new slaty tints are no +less striking than the deeper shades they have superseded. But to +this scale of experimental blues, other colours must be added: the +poppy-red of the Spahis' tunics, and various other less familiar +colours—grey, and a certain greenish khaki—the use of which is due +to the fact that the cloth supply has given out and that all +available materials are employed. As for the differences in cut, the +uniforms vary from the old tight tunic to the loose belted jacket +copied from the English, and the emblems of the various arms and +ranks embroidered on these diversified habits add a new element of +perplexity. The aviator's wings, the motorist's wheel, and many of +the newer symbols, are easily recognizable—but there are all the +other arms, and the doctors and the stretcher-bearers, the sappers +and miners, and heaven knows how many more ramifications of this +great host which is really all the nation. +</P> + +<P> +The main interest of the scene, however, is that it shows almost as +many types as uniforms, and that almost all the types are so good. +One begins to understand (if one has failed to before) why the +French say of themselves: "<I>La France est une nation guerriere.</I>" +War is the greatest of paradoxes: the most senseless and +disheartening of human retrogressions, and yet the stimulant of +qualities of soul which, in every race, can seemingly find no other +means of renewal. Everything depends, therefore, on the category of +impulses that war excites in a people. Looking at the faces at +Chalons, one sees at once in which [Page 54] sense the French are +"une nation guerriere." It is not too much to say that war has given +beauty to faces that were interesting, humorous, acute, malicious, a +hundred vivid and expressive things, but last and least of all +beautiful. Almost all the faces about these crowded tables—young or +old, plain or handsome, distinguished or average—have the same look +of quiet authority: it is as though all "nervosity," fussiness, +little personal oddities, meannesses and vulgarities, had been burnt +away in a great flame of self-dedication. It is a wonderful example +of the rapidity with which purpose models the human countenance. +More than half of these men were probably doing dull or useless or +unimportant things till the first of last August; now each one of +them, however small his job, is sharing in a great task, and knows +it, and has been made over by knowing it. +</P> + +<P> +Our road on leaving Chalons continued to run northeastward toward +the hills of the Argonne. +</P> + +<P> +We passed through more deserted villages, with soldiers lounging in +the doors where old women should have sat with their distaffs, +soldiers watering their horses in the village pond, soldiers cooking +over gypsy fires in the farm-yards. In the patches of woodland along +the road we came upon more soldiers, cutting down pine saplings, +chopping them into even lengths and loading them on hand-carts, with +the green boughs piled on top. We soon saw to what use they were +put, for at every cross-road or railway bridge a warm sentry-box of +mud and straw and plaited pine-branches was plastered against a bank +or tucked like a swallow's nest into a sheltered corner. A little +farther on we began to come more and more frequently on big colonies +of "Seventy-fives." Drawn up nose to nose, usually against a curtain +of woodland, in a field at some distance from the road, and always +attended by a cumbrous drove of motor-vans, they looked like giant +gazelles feeding among elephants; and the stables of woven +pine-boughs which stood near by might have been the huge huts of +their herdsmen. +</P> + +<P> +The country between Marne and Meuse is one of the regions on which +German fury spent itself most bestially during the abominable +September days. Half way between Chalons and Sainte Menehould we +came on the first evidence of the invasion: the lamentable ruins of +the village of Auve. These pleasant villages of the Aisne, with +their one long street, their half-timbered houses and high-roofed +granaries with espaliered gable-ends, are all much of one pattern, +and one can easily picture what Auve must have been as it looked +out, in the blue September weather, above the ripening pears of its +gardens to the crops in the valley and the large landscape beyond. +Now it is a mere waste of rubble [Page 58] and cinders, not one +threshold distinguishable from another. We saw many other ruined +villages after Auve, but this was the first, and perhaps for that +reason one had there, most hauntingly, the vision of all the +separate terrors, anguishes, uprootings and rendings apart involved +in the destruction of the obscurest of human communities. The +photographs on the walls, the twigs of withered box above the +crucifixes, the old wedding-dresses in brass-clamped trunks, the +bundles of letters laboriously written and as painfully deciphered, +all the thousand and one bits of the past that give meaning and +continuity to the present—of all that accumulated warmth nothing was +left but a brick-heap and some twisted stove-pipes! +</P> + +<P> +As we ran on toward Sainte Menehould the names on our map showed us +that, just beyond the parallel range of hills six or seven miles to +the north, the two armies lay interlocked. But we heard no cannon +yet, and the first visible evidence of the nearness of the struggle +was the encounter, at a bend of the road, of a long line of +grey-coated figures tramping toward us between the bayonets of their +captors. They were a sturdy lot, this fresh "bag" from the hills, of +a fine fighting age, and much less famished and war-worn than one +could have wished. Their broad blond faces were meaningless, +guarded, but neither defiant nor unhappy: they seemed none too sorry +for their fate. +</P> + +<P> +Our pass from the General Head-quarters carried us to Sainte +Menehould on the edge of the Argonne, where we had to apply to the +Head-quarters of the division for a farther extension. The Staff are +lodged in a house considerably the worse for German occupancy, where +offices have been improvised by means of wooden hoardings, and +where, sitting in a bare passage on a frayed damask sofa surmounted +by theatrical posters and faced by a bed with a plum-coloured +counterpane, we listened for a while to the jingle of telephones, +the rat-tat of typewriters, the steady hum of dictation and the +coming and going of hurried despatch-bearers and orderlies. The +extension to the permit was presently delivered with the courteous +request that we should push on to Verdun as fast as possible, as +civilian motors were not wanted on the road that afternoon; and this +request, coupled with the evident stir of activity at Head-quarters, +gave us the impression that there must be a good deal happening +beyond the low line of hills to the north. How much there was we +were soon to know. +</P> + +<P> +We left Sainte Menehould at about eleven, and before twelve o'clock +we were nearing a large village on a ridge from which the land swept +away to right and left in ample reaches. The first glimpse of the +outlying houses showed nothing unusual; but presently the main +street turned and dipped downward, and below and beyond us lay a +long stretch of ruins: the calcined remains of Clermont-en-Argonne, +destroyed by the Germans on the 4th of September. The free and lofty +situation of the little town—for it was really a good deal more +than a village—makes its present state the more lamentable. One can +see it from so far off, and through the torn traceries of its ruined +church the eye travels over so lovely a stretch of country! No doubt +its beauty enriched the joy of wrecking it. +</P> + +<P> +At the farther end of what was once the main street another small +knot of houses has survived. Chief among them is the Hospice for old +men, where Sister Gabrielle Rosnet, when the authorities of Clermont +took to their heels, stayed behind to defend her charges, and where, +ever since, she has nursed an undiminishing stream of wounded from +the eastern front. We found Soeur Rosnet, with her Sisters, +preparing the midday meal of her patients in the little kitchen of +the Hospice: the kitchen which is also her dining-room and private +office. She insisted on our finding time to share the <I>filet</I> and +fried potatoes that were just being taken off the stove, and while +we lunched she told us the story of the invasion—of the Hospice +doors broken down "a coups de crosse" and the grey officers bursting +in with revolvers, and finding her there before them, in the big +vaulted vestibule, "alone with my old men and my Sisters." Soeur +Gabrielle Rosnet is a small round active woman, with a shrewd and +ruddy face of the type that looks out calmly from the dark +background of certain Flemish pictures. Her blue eyes are full of +warmth and humour, and she puts as much gaiety as wrath into her +tale. She does not spare epithets in talking of "ces satanes +Allemands"—these Sisters and nurses of the front have seen sights +to dry up the last drop of sentimental pity—but through all the +horror of those fierce September days, with Clermont blazing about +her and the helpless remnant of its inhabitants under the perpetual +threat of massacre, she retained her sense of the little inevitable +absurdities of life, such as her not knowing how to address the +officer in command "because he was so tall that I couldn't see up to +his shoulder-straps."—"Et ils etaient tous comme ca," she added, a +sort of reluctant admiration in her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +A subordinate "good Sister" had just cleared the table and poured +out our coffee when a woman came in to say, in a matter-of-fact +tone, that there was hard fighting going on across the valley. She +added calmly, as she dipped our plates into a tub, that an obus had +just fallen a mile or two off, and that if we liked we could see the +fighting from a garden over the way. It did not take us long to +reach that garden! Soeur Gabrielle showed the way, bouncing up the +stairs of a house across the street, and flying at her heels we came +out on a grassy terrace full of soldiers. +</P> + +<P> +The cannon were booming without a pause, and seemingly so near that +it was bewildering to look out across empty fields at a hillside +that seemed like any other. But luckily somebody had a field-glass, +and with its help a little corner of the battle of Vauquois was +suddenly brought close to us—the rush of French infantry up the +slopes, the feathery drift of French gun-smoke lower down, and, high +up, on the wooded crest along the sky, the red lightnings and white +puffs of the German artillery. Rap, rap, rap, went the answering +guns, as the troops swept up and disappeared into the fire-tongued +wood; and we stood there dumbfounded at the accident of having +stumbled on this visible episode of the great subterranean struggle. +</P> + +<P> +Though Soeur Rosnet had seen too many such sights to be much moved, +she was full of a lively curiosity, and stood beside us, squarely +planted in the mud, holding the field-glass to her eyes, or passing +it laughingly about among the soldiers. But as we turned to go she +said: "They've sent us word to be ready for another four hundred +to-night"; and the twinkle died out of her good eyes. +</P> + +<P> +Her expectations were to be dreadfully surpassed; for, as we learned +a fortnight later from a three column <I>communique,</I> the scene we had +assisted at was no less than the first act of the successful assault +on the high-perched village of Vauquois, a point of the first +importance to the Germans, since it masked their operations to the +north of Varennes and commanded the railway by which, since +September, they have been revictualling and reinforcing their army +in the Argonne. Vauquois had been taken by them at the end of +September and, thanks to its strong position on a rocky spur, had +been almost impregnably fortified; but the attack we looked on at +from the garden of Clermont, on Sunday, February 28th, carried the +victorious French troops to the top of the ridge, and made them +masters of a part of the village. Driven from it again that night, +they were to retake it after a five days' struggle of exceptional +violence and prodigal heroism, and are now securely established +there in a position described as "of vital importance to the +operations." "But what it cost!" Soeur Gabrielle said, when we saw +her again a few days later. +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4> +II +</H4> + +<P> +The time had come to remember our promise and hurry away from +Clermont; but a few miles farther our attention was arrested by the +sight of the Red Cross over a village house. The house was little +more than a hovel, the village—Blercourt it was called—a mere +hamlet of scattered cottages and cow-stables: a place so easily +overlooked that it seemed likely our supplies might be needed there. +</P> + +<P> +An orderly went to find the <I>medecin-chef</I>, and we waded after him +through the mud to one after another of the cottages in which, with +admirable ingenuity, he had managed to create out of next to nothing +the indispensable requirements of a second-line ambulance: +sterilizing and disinfecting appliances, a bandage-room, a pharmacy, +a well-filled wood-shed, and a clean kitchen in which "tisanes" were +brewing over a cheerful fire. A detachment of cavalry was quartered +in the village, which the trampling of hoofs had turned into a great +morass, and as we picked our way from cottage to cottage in the +doctor's wake he told us of the expedients to which he had been put +to secure even the few hovels into which his patients were crowded. +It was a complaint we were often to hear repeated along this line of +the front, where troops and wounded are packed in thousands into +villages meant to house four or five hundred; and we admired the +skill and devotion with which he had dealt with the difficulty, and +managed to lodge his patients decently. +</P> + +<P> +We came back to the high-road, and he asked us if we should like to +see the church. It was about three o'clock, and in the low porch the +cure was ringing the bell for vespers. We pushed open the inner +doors and went in. The church was without aisles, and down the nave +stood four rows of wooden cots with brown blankets. In almost every +one lay a soldier—the doctor's "worst cases"—few of them wounded, +the greater number stricken with fever, bronchitis, frost-bite, +pleurisy, or some other form of trench-sickness too severe to permit +of their being carried farther from the front. One or two heads +turned on the pillows as we entered, but for the most part the men +did not move. +</P> + +<P> +The cure, meanwhile, passing around to the sacristy, had come out +before the altar in his vestments, followed by a little white +acolyte. A handful of women, probably the only "civil" inhabitants +left, and some of the soldiers we had seen about the village, had +entered the church and stood together between the rows of cots; and +the service began. It was a sunless afternoon, and the picture was +all in monastic shades of black and white and ashen grey: the sick +under their earth-coloured blankets, their livid faces against the +pillows, the black dresses of the women (they seemed all to be in +mourning) and the silver haze floating out from the little acolyte's +censer. The only light in the scene—the candle-gleams on the altar, +and their reflection in the embroideries of the cure's chasuble—were +like a faint streak of sunset on the winter dusk. +</P> + +<P> +For a while the long Latin cadences sounded on through the church; +but presently the cure took up in French the Canticle of the Sacred +Heart, composed during the war of 1870, and the little congregation +joined their trembling voices in the refrain: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"<I>Sauvez, sauvez la France,<BR> +Ne l'abandonnez pas!</I>" +</P> + +<P> +The reiterated appeal rose in a sob above the rows of bodies in the +nave: "<I>Sauvez, sauvez la France</I>," the women wailed it near the +altar, the soldiers took it up from the door in stronger tones; but +the bodies in the cots never stirred, and more and more, as the day +faded, the church looked like a quiet grave-yard in a battle-field. +</P> + +<P> +After we had left Sainte Menehould the sense of the nearness and +all-pervadingness of the war became even more vivid. Every road +branching away to our left was a finger touching a red wound: +Varennes, le Four de Paris, le Bois de la Grurie, were not more than +eight or ten miles to the north. Along our own road the stream of +motor-vans and the trains of ammunition grew longer and more +frequent. Once we passed a long line of "Seventy-fives" going single +file up a hillside, farther on we watched a big detachment of +artillery galloping across a stretch of open country. The movement +of supplies was continuous, and every village through which we +passed swarmed with soldiers busy loading or unloading the big vans, +or clustered about the commissariat motors while hams and quarters +of beef were handed out. As we approached Verdun the cannonade had +grown louder again; and when we reached the walls of the town and +passed under the iron teeth of the portcullis we felt ourselves in +one of the last outposts of a mighty line of defense. The desolation +of Verdun is as impressive as the feverish activity of Chalons. +The civil population was evacuated in September, and only a small +percentage have returned. Nine-tenths of the shops are closed, and +as the troops are nearly all in the trenches there is hardly any +movement in the streets. +</P> + +<P> +The first duty of the traveller who has successfully passed the +challenge of the sentinel at the gates is to climb the steep hill to +the citadel at the top of the town. Here the military authorities +inspect one's papers, and deliver a "permis de sejour" which must be +verified by the police before lodgings can be obtained. We found the +principal hotel much less crowded than the Haute Mere-Dieu at +Chalons, though many of the officers of the garrison mess +there. The whole atmosphere of the place was different: silent, +concentrated, passive. To the chance observer, Verdun appears to +live only in its hospitals; and of these there are fourteen within +the walls alone. As darkness fell, the streets became completely +deserted, and the cannonade seemed to grow nearer and more +incessant. That first night the hush was so intense that every +reverberation from the dark hills beyond the walls brought out in +the mind its separate vision of destruction; and then, just as the +strained imagination could bear no more, the thunder ceased. A +moment later, in a court below my windows, a pigeon began to coo; +and all night long the two sounds strangely alternated... +</P> + +<P> +On entering the gates, the first sight to attract us had been a +colony of roughly-built bungalows scattered over the miry slopes of +a little park adjoining the railway station, and surmounted by the +sign: "Evacuation Hospital No. 6." The next morning we went to visit +it. A part of the station buildings has been adapted to hospital +use, and among them a great roofless hall, which the surgeon in +charge has covered in with canvas and divided down its length into a +double row of tents. Each tent contains two wooden cots, +scrupulously clean and raised high above the floor; and the immense +ward is warmed by a row of stoves down the central passage. In the +bungalows across the road are beds for the patients who are to be +kept for a time before being transferred to the hospitals in the +town. In one bungalow an operating-room has been installed, in +another are the bathing arrangements for the newcomers from the +trenches. Every possible device for the relief of the wounded has +been carefully thought out and intelligently applied by the surgeon +in charge and the <I>infirmiere major</I> who indefatigably seconds him. +Evacuation Hospital No. 6 sprang up in an hour, almost, on the +dreadful August day when four thousand wounded lay on stretchers +between the railway station and the gate of the little park across +the way; and it has gradually grown into the model of what such a +hospital may become in skilful and devoted hands. +</P> + +<P> +Verdun has other excellent hospitals for the care of the severely +wounded who cannot be sent farther from the front. Among them St. +Nicolas, in a big airy building on the Meuse, is an example of a +great French Military Hospital at its best; but I visited few +others, for the main object of my journey was to get to some of the +second-line ambulances beyond the town. The first we went to was in +a small village to the north of Verdun, not far from the enemy's +lines at Cosenvoye, and was fairly representative of all the others. +The dreary muddy village was crammed with troops, and the ambulance +had been installed at haphazard in such houses as the military +authorities could spare. The arrangements were primitive but clean, +and even the dentist had set up his apparatus in one of the rooms. +The men lay on mattresses or in wooden cots, and the rooms were +heated by stoves. The great need, here as everywhere, was for +blankets and clean underclothing; for the wounded are brought in +from the front encrusted with frozen mud, and usually without having +washed or changed for weeks. There are no women nurses in these +second-line ambulances, but all the army doctors we saw seemed +intelligent, and anxious to do the best they could for their men in +conditions of unusual hardship. The principal obstacle in their way +is the over-crowded state of the villages. Thousands of soldiers are +camped in all of them, in hygienic conditions that would be bad +enough for men in health; and there is also a great need for light +diet, since the hospital commissariat of the front apparently +supplies no invalid foods, and men burning with fever have to be fed +on meat and vegetables. +</P> + +<P> +In the afternoon we started out again in a snow-storm, over a +desolate rolling country to the south of Verdun. The wind blew +fiercely across the whitened slopes, and no one was in sight but the +sentries marching up and down the railway lines, and an occasional +cavalryman patrolling the lonely road. Nothing can exceed the +mournfulness of this depopulated land: we might have been wandering +over the wilds of Poland. We ran some twenty miles down the +steel-grey Meuse to a village about four miles west of Les Eparges, +the spot where, for weeks past, a desperate struggle had been going +on. There must have been a lull in the fighting that day, for the +cannon had ceased; but the scene at the point where we left the +motor gave us the sense of being on the very edge of the conflict. +The long straggling village lay on the river, and the trampling of +cavalry and the hauling of guns had turned the land about it into a +mud-flat. Before the primitive cottage where the doctor's office had +been installed were the motors of the surgeon and the medical +inspector who had accompanied us. Near by stood the usual flock of +grey motor-vans, and all about was the coming and going of cavalry +remounts, the riding up of officers, the unloading of supplies, the +incessant activity of mud-splashed sergeants and men. +</P> + +<P> +The main ambulance was in a grange, of which the two stories had +been partitioned off into wards. Under the cobwebby rafters the men +lay in rows on clean pallets, and big stoves made the rooms dry and +warm. But the great superiority of this ambulance was its nearness +to a canalboat which had been fitted up with hot douches. The boat +was spotlessly clean, and each cabin was shut off by a gay curtain +of red-flowered chintz. Those curtains must do almost as much as the +hot water to make over the <I>morale</I> of the men: they were the most +comforting sight of the day. +</P> + +<P> +Farther north, and on the other bank of the Meuse, lies another +large village which has been turned into a colony of eclopes. +Fifteen hundred sick or exhausted men are housed there—and there +are no hot douches or chintz curtains to cheer them! We were taken +first to the church, a large featureless building at the head of the +street. In the doorway our passage was obstructed by a mountain of +damp straw which a gang of hostler-soldiers were pitch-forking out +of the aisles. The interior of the church was dim and suffocating. +Between the pillars hung screens of plaited straw, forming little +enclosures in each of which about a dozen sick men lay on more +straw, without mattresses or blankets. No beds, no tables, no +chairs, no washing appliances—in their muddy clothes, as they come +from the front, they are bedded down on the stone floor like cattle +till they are well enough to go back to their job. It was a pitiful +contrast to the little church at Blercourt, with the altar lights +twinkling above the clean beds; and one wondered if even so near the +front, it had to be. "The African village, we call it," one of our +companions said with a laugh: but the African village has blue sky +over it, and a clear stream runs between its mud huts. +</P> + +<P> +We had been told at Sainte Menehould that, for military reasons, we +must follow a more southerly direction on our return to +Chalons; and when we left Verdun we took the road to +Bar-le-Duc. It runs southwest over beautiful broken country, +untouched by war except for the fact that its villages, like all the +others in this region, are either deserted or occupied by troops. As +we left Verdun behind us the sound of the cannon grew fainter and +died out, and we had the feeling that we were gradually passing +beyond the flaming boundaries into a more normal world; but +suddenly, at a cross-road, a sign-post snatched us back to war: <I>St. +Mihiel</I>, 18 <I>Kilometres</I>. St. Mihiel, the danger-spot of the region, +the weak joint in the armour! There it lay, up that harmless-looking +bye-road, not much more than ten miles away—a ten minutes' dash +would have brought us into the thick of the grey coats and spiked +helmets! The shadow of that sign-post followed us for miles, +darkening the landscape like the shadow from a racing storm-cloud. +</P> + +<P> +Bar-le-Duc seemed unaware of the cloud. The charming old town was in +its normal state of provincial apathy: few soldiers were about, and +here at last civilian life again predominated. After a few days on +the edge of the war, in that intermediate region under its solemn +spell, there is something strangely lowering to the mood in the +first sight of a busy unconscious community. One looks instinctively, +in the eyes of the passers by, for a reflection of that other vision, +and feels diminished by contact with people going so indifferently +about their business. +</P> + +<P> +A little way beyond Bar-le-Duc we came on another phase of the +war-vision, for our route lay exactly in the track of the August +invasion, and between Bar-le-Duc and Vitry-le-Francois the high-road +is lined with ruined towns. The first we came to was Laimont, a +large village wiped out as if a cyclone had beheaded it; then comes +Revigny, a town of over two thousand inhabitants, less completely +levelled because its houses were more solidly built, but a spectacle +of more tragic desolation, with its wide streets winding between +scorched and contorted fragments of masonry, bits of shop-fronts, +handsome doorways, the colonnaded court of a public building. A few +miles farther lies the most piteous of the group: the village of +Heiltz-le-Maurupt, once pleasantly set in gardens and orchards, now +an ugly waste like the others, and with a little church so stripped +and wounded and dishonoured that it lies there by the roadside like +a human victim. +</P> + +<P> +In this part of the country, which is one of many cross-roads, we +began to have unexpected difficulty in finding our way, for the +names and distances on the milestones have all been effaced, the +sign-posts thrown down and the enamelled <I>plaques</I> on the houses at +the entrance to the villages removed. One report has it that this +precaution was taken by the inhabitants at the approach of the +invading army, another that the Germans themselves demolished the +sign-posts and plastered over the mile-stones in order to paint on +them misleading and encouraging distances. The result is extremely +bewildering, for, all the villages being either in ruins or +uninhabited, there is no one to question but the soldiers one meets, +and their answer is almost invariably "We don't know—we don't +belong here." One is in luck if one comes across a sentinel who +knows the name of the village he is guarding. +</P> + +<P> +It was the strangest of sensations to find ourselves in a chartless +wilderness within sixty or seventy miles of Paris, and to wander, as +we did, for hours across a high heathery waste, with wide blue +distances to north and south, and in all the scene not a landmark by +means of which we could make a guess at our whereabouts. One of our +haphazard turns at last brought us into a muddy bye-road with long +lines of "Seventy-fives" ranged along its banks like grey ant-eaters +in some monstrous menagerie. A little farther on we came to a +bemired village swarming with artillery and cavalry, and found +ourselves in the thick of an encampment just on the move. It seems +improbable that we were meant to be there, for our arrival caused +such surprise that no sentry remembered to challenge us, and +obsequiously saluting <I>sous-officiers</I> instantly cleared a way for +the motor. So, by a happy accident, we caught one more war-picture, +all of vehement movement, as we passed out of the zone of war. +</P> + +<P> +We were still very distinctly in it on returning to Chalons, +which, if it had seemed packed on our previous visit, was now +quivering and cracking with fresh crowds. The stir about the +fountain, in the square before the Haute Mere-Dieu, was more +melodramatic than ever. Every one was in a hurry, every one booted +and mudsplashed, and spurred or sworded or despatch-bagged, or +somehow labelled as a member of the huge military beehive. The +privilege of telephoning and telegraphing being denied to civilians +in the war-zone, it was ominous to arrive at night-fall on such a +crowded scene, and we were not surprised to be told that there was +not a room left at the Haute Mere-Dieu, and that even the sofas in +the reading-room had been let for the night. At every other inn in +the town we met with the same answer; and finally we decided to ask +permission to go on as far as Epernay, about twelve miles off. At +Head-quarters we were told that our request could not be granted. No +motors are allowed to circulate after night-fall in the zone of war, +and the officer charged with the distribution of motor-permits +pointed out that, even if an exception were made in our favour, we +should probably be turned back by the first sentinel we met, only to +find ourselves unable to re-enter Chalons without another +permit! This alternative was so alarming that we began to think +ourselves relatively lucky to be on the right side of the gates; and +we went back to the Haute Mere-Dieu to squeeze into a crowded corner +of the restaurant for dinner. The hope that some one might have +suddenly left the hotel in the interval was not realized; but after +dinner we learned from the landlady that she had certain rooms +permanently reserved for the use of the Staff, and that, as these +rooms had not yet been called for that evening, we might possibly be +allowed to occupy them for the night. +</P> + +<P> +At Chalons the Head-quarters are in the Prefecture, a coldly +handsome building of the eighteenth century, and there, in a +majestic stone vestibule, beneath the gilded ramp of a great festal +staircase, we waited in anxious suspense, among the orderlies and +<I>estafettes</I>, while our unusual request was considered. The result +of the deliberation, was an expression of regret: nothing could be +done for us, as officers might at any moment arrive from the General +Head-quarters and require the rooms. It was then past nine o'clock, +and bitterly cold—and we began to wonder. Finally the polite +officer who had been charged to dismiss us, moved to compassion at +our plight, offered to give us a <I>laissez-passer</I> back to Paris. But +Paris was about a hundred and twenty-five miles off, the night was +dark, the cold was piercing—and at every cross-road and railway +crossing a sentinel would have to be convinced of our right to go +farther. We remembered the warning given us earlier in the evening, +and, declining the offer, went out again into the cold. And just +then chance took pity on us. In the restaurant we had run across a +friend attached to the Staff, and now, meeting him again in the +depth of our difficulty, we were told of lodgings to be found near +by. He could not take us there, for it was past the hour when he had +a right to be out, or we either, for that matter, since curfew +sounds at nine at Chalons. But he told us how to find our way +through the maze of little unlit streets about the Cathedral; +standing there beside the motor, in the icy darkness of the deserted +square, and whispering hastily, as he turned to leave us: "You ought +not to be out so late; but the word tonight is <I>Jena</I>. When you give +it to the chauffeur, be sure no sentinel overhears you." With that +he was up the wide steps, the glass doors had closed on him, and I +stood there in the pitch-black night, suddenly unable to believe +that I was I, or Chalons Chalons, or that a young man who in Paris +drops in to dine with me and talk over new books and plays, had been +whispering a password in my ear to carry me unchallenged to a house +a few streets away! The sense of unreality produced by that one word +was so overwhelming that for a blissful moment the whole fabric of +what I had been experiencing, the whole huge and oppressive and +unescapable fact of the war, slipped away like a torn cobweb, and +I seemed to see behind it the reassuring face of things as they used +to be. +</P> + +<P> +The next morning dispelled that vision. We woke to a noise of guns +closer and more incessant than even the first night's cannonade at +Verdun; and when we went out into the streets it seemed as if, +overnight, a new army had sprung out of the ground. Waylaid at one +corner after another by the long tide of troops streaming out +through the town to the northern suburbs, we saw in turn all the +various divisions of the unfolding frieze: first the infantry and +artillery, the sappers and miners, the endless trains of guns and +ammunition, then the long line of grey supply-waggons, and finally +the stretcher-bearers following the Red Cross ambulances. All the +story of a day's warfare was written in the spectacle of that +endless silent flow to the front: and we were to read it again, a +few days later, in the terse announcement of "renewed activity" +about Suippes, and of the bloody strip of ground gained between +Perthes and Beausejour. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="lorraine"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +IN LORRAINE AND THE VOSGES +</H3> + +<H4> +NANCY, May 13th, 1915 +</H4> + +<P> +Beside me, on my writing-table, stands a bunch of peonies, the jolly +round-faced pink peonies of the village garden. They were picked +this afternoon in the garden of a ruined house at Gerbeviller—a +house so calcined and convulsed that, for epithets dire enough to +fit it, one would have to borrow from a Hebrew prophet gloating over +the fall of a city of idolaters. +</P> + +<P> +Since leaving Paris yesterday we have passed through streets and +streets of such murdered houses, through town after town spread out +in its last writhings; and before the black holes that were homes, +along the edge of the chasms that were streets, everywhere we have +seen flowers and vegetables springing up in freshly raked and +watered gardens. My pink peonies were not introduced to point the +stale allegory of unconscious Nature veiling Man's havoc: they are +put on my first page as a symbol of conscious human energy coming +back to replant and rebuild the wilderness... +</P> + +<P> +Last March, in the Argonne, the towns we passed through seemed quite +dead; but yesterday new life was budding everywhere. We were +following another track of the invasion, one of the huge +tiger-scratches that the Beast flung over the land last September, +between Vitry-le-Francois and Bar-le-Duc. Etrepy, Pargny, +Sermaize-les-Bains, Andernay, are the names of this group of +victims: Sermaize a pretty watering-place along wooded slopes, the +others large villages fringed with farms, and all now mere +scrofulous blotches on the soft spring scene. But in many we heard +the sound of hammers, and saw brick-layers and masons at work. Even +in the most mortally stricken there were signs of returning life: +children playing among the stone heaps, and now and then a cautious +older face peering out of a shed propped against the ruins. In one +place an ancient tram-car had been converted into a cafe and +labelled: "Au Restaurant des Ruines"; and everywhere between the +calcined walls the carefully combed gardens aligned their radishes +and lettuce-tops. +</P> + +<P> +From Bar-le-Duc we turned northeast, and as we entered the forest of +Commercy we began to hear again the Voice of the Front. It was the +warmest and stillest of May days, and in the clearing where we +stopped for luncheon the familiar boom broke with a magnified +loudness on the noonday hush. In the intervals between the crashes +there was not a sound but the gnats' hum in the moist sunshine and +the dryad-call of the cuckoo from greener depths. At the end of the +lane a few cavalrymen rode by in shabby blue, their horses' flanks +glinting like ripe chestnuts. They stopped to chat and accept some +cigarettes, and when they had trotted off again the gnat, the cuckoo +and the cannon took up their trio... +</P> + +<P> +The town of Commercy looked so undisturbed that the cannonade +rocking it might have been some unheeded echo of the hills. These +frontier towns inured to the clash of war go about their business +with what one might call stolidity if there were not finer, and +truer, names for it. In Commercy, to be sure, there is little +business to go about just now save that connected with the military +occupation; but the peaceful look of the sunny sleepy streets made +one doubt if the fighting line was really less than five miles away... +Yet the French, with an odd perversion of race-vanity, still +persist in speaking of themselves as a "nervous and impressionable" +people! +</P> + +<P> +This afternoon, on the road to Gerbeviller, we were again in the +track of the September invasion. Over all the slopes now cool with +spring foliage the battle rocked backward and forward during those +burning autumn days; and every mile of the struggle has left its +ghastly traces. The fields are full of wooden crosses which the +ploughshare makes a circuit to avoid; many of the villages have been +partly wrecked, and here and there an isolated ruin marks the +nucleus of a fiercer struggle. But the landscape, in its first sweet +leafiness, is so alive with ploughing and sowing and all the natural +tasks of spring, that the war scars seem like traces of a long-past +woe; and it was not till a bend of the road brought us in sight of +Gerbeviller that we breathed again the choking air of present +horror. +</P> + +<P> +Gerbeviller, stretched out at ease on its slopes above the Meurthe, +must have been a happy place to live in. The streets slanted up +between scattered houses in gardens to the great Louis XIV +chateau above the town and the church that balanced it. So +much one can reconstruct from the first glimpse across the valley; +but when one enters the town all perspective is lost in chaos. +Gerbeviller has taken to herself the title of "the martyr town"; an +honour to which many sister victims might dispute her claim! But as +a sensational image of havoc it seems improbable that any can +surpass her. Her ruins seem to have been simultaneously vomited up +from the depths and hurled down from the skies, as though she had +perished in some monstrous clash of earthquake and tornado; and it +fills one with a cold despair to know that this double destruction +was no accident of nature but a piously planned and methodically +executed human deed. From the opposite heights the poor little +garden-girt town was shelled like a steel fortress; then, when the +Germans entered, a fire was built in every house, and at the +nicely-timed right moment one of the explosive tabloids which the +fearless Teuton carries about for his land-<I>Lusitanias</I> was tossed +on each hearth. It was all so well done that one wonders—almost +apologetically for German thoroughness—that any of the human rats +escaped from their holes; but some did, and were neatly spitted on +lurking bayonets. +</P> + +<P> +One old woman, hearing her son's deathcry, rashly looked out of her +door. A bullet instantly laid her low among her phloxes and lilies; +and there, in her little garden, her dead body was dishonoured. It +seemed singularly appropriate, in such a scene, to read above a +blackened doorway the sign: "Monuments Funebres," and to observe +that the house the doorway once belonged to had formed the angle of +a lane called "La Ruelle des Orphelines." +</P> + +<P> +At one end of the main street of Gerbeviller there once stood a +charming house, of the sober old Lorraine pattern, with low door, +deep roof and ample gables: it was in the garden of this house that +my pink peonies were picked for me by its owner, Mr. Liegeay, a +former Mayor of Gerbeviller, who witnessed all the horrors of the +invasion. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Liegeay is now living in a neighbour's cellar, his own being +fully occupied by the debris of his charming house. He told us the +story of the three days of the German occupation; how he and his +wife and niece, and the niece's babies, took to their cellar while +the Germans set the house on fire, and how, peering through a door +into the stable-yard, they saw that the soldiers suspected they were +within and were trying to get at them. Luckily the incendiaries had +heaped wood and straw all round the outside of the house, and the +blaze was so hot that they could not reach the door. Between the +arch of the doorway and the door itself was a half-moon opening; and +Mr. Liegeay and his family, during three days and three nights, +broke up all the barrels in the cellar and threw the bits out +through the opening to feed the fire in the yard. +</P> + +<P> +Finally, on the third day, when they began to be afraid that the +ruins of the house would fall in on them, they made a dash for +safety. The house was on the edge of the town, and the women and +children managed to get away into the country; but Mr. Liegeay was +surprised in his garden by a German soldier. He made a rush for the +high wall of the adjoining cemetery, and scrambling over it slipped +down between the wall and a big granite cross. The cross was covered +with the hideous wire and glass wreaths dear to French mourners; and +with these opportune mementoes Mr. Liegeay roofed himself in, lying +wedged in his narrow hiding-place from three in the afternoon till +night, and listening to the voices of the soldiers who were hunting +for him among the grave-stones. Luckily it was their last day at +Gerbeviller, and the German retreat saved his life. +</P> + +<P> +Even in Gerbeviller we saw no worse scene of destruction than the +particular spot in which the ex-mayor stood while he told his story. +He looked about him at the heaps of blackened brick and contorted +iron. "This was my dining-room," he said. "There were some good old +paneling on the walls, and some fine prints that had been a +wedding-present to my grand-father." He led us into another black +pit. "This was our sitting-room: you see what a view we had." He +sighed, and added philosophically: "I suppose we were too well off. +I even had an electric light out there on the terrace, to read my +paper by on summer evenings. Yes, we were too well off..." That +was all. +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile all the town had been red with horror—flame and shot and +tortures unnameable; and at the other end of the long street, a +woman, a Sister of Charity, had held her own like Soeur Gabrielle at +Clermont-en-Argonne, gathering her flock of old men and children +about her and interposing her short stout figure between them and +the fury of the Germans. We found her in her Hospice, a ruddy, +indomitable woman who related with a quiet indignation more +thrilling than invective the hideous details of the bloody three +days; but that already belongs to the past, and at present she is +much more concerned with the task of clothing and feeding +Gerbeviller. For two thirds of the population have already "come +home"—that is what they call the return to this desert! "You see," +Soeur Julie explained, "there are the crops to sow, the gardens to +tend. They had to come back. The government is building wooden +shelters for them; and people will surely send us beds and linen." +(Of course they would, one felt as one listened!) "Heavy boots, +too—boots for field-labourers. We want them for women as well as +men—like these." Soeur Julie, smiling, turned up a hob-nailed sole. +"I have directed all the work on our Hospice farm myself. All the +women are working in the fields—we must take the place of the men." +And I seemed to see my pink peonies flowering in the very prints of +her sturdy boots! +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4> +May 14th. +</H4> + +<P> +Nancy, the most beautiful town in France, has never been as +beautiful as now. Coming back to it last evening from a round of +ruins one felt as if the humbler Sisters sacrificed to spare it were +pleading with one not to forget them in the contemplation of its +dearly-bought perfection. +</P> + +<P> +The last time I looked out on the great architectural setting of the +Place Stanislas was on a hot July evening, the evening of the +National Fete. The square and the avenues leading to it +swarmed with people, and as darkness fell the balanced lines of +arches and palaces sprang out in many coloured light. Garlands of +lamps looped the arcades leading into the Place de la Carriere, +peacock-coloured fires flared from the Arch of Triumph, long curves +of radiance beat like wings over the thickets of the park, the +sculptures of the fountains, the brown-and-gold foliation of Jean +Damour's great gates; and under this roofing of light was the murmur +of a happy crowd carelessly celebrating the tradition of +half-forgotten victories. +</P> + +<P> +Now, at sunset, all life ceases in Nancy and veil after veil of +silence comes down on the deserted Place and its empty perspectives. +Last night by nine the few lingering lights in the streets had been +put out, every window was blind, and the moonless night lay over the +city like a canopy of velvet. Then, from some remote point, the arc +of a search-light swept the sky, laid a fugitive pallor on darkened +palace-fronts, a gleam of gold on invisible gates, trembled across +the black vault and vanished, leaving it still blacker. When we came +out of the darkened restaurant on the corner of the square, and the +iron curtain of the entrance had been hastily dropped on us, we +stood in such complete night that it took a waiter's friendly hand +to guide us to the curbstone. Then, as we grew used to the darkness, +we saw it lying still more densely under the colonnade of the Place +de la Carriere and the clipped trees beyond. The ordered masses of +architecture became august, the spaces between them immense, and the +black sky faintly strewn with stars seemed to overarch an enchanted +city. Not a footstep sounded, not a leaf rustled, not a breath of +air drew under the arches. And suddenly, through the dumb night, the +sound of the cannon began. +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4> +May 14th. +</H4> + +<P> +Luncheon with the General Staff in an old bourgeois house of a +little town as sleepy as "Cranford." In the warm walled gardens +everything was blooming at once: laburnums, lilacs, red hawthorn, +Banksia roses and all the pleasant border plants that go with box +and lavender. Never before did the flowers answer the spring +roll-call with such a rush! Upstairs, in the Empire bedroom which +the General has turned into his study, it was amusingly incongruous +to see the sturdy provincial furniture littered with war-maps, +trench-plans, aeroplane photographs and all the documentation of +modern war. Through the windows bees hummed, the garden rustled, and +one felt, close by, behind the walls of other gardens, the +untroubled continuance of a placid and orderly bourgeois life. +</P> + +<P> +We started early for Mousson on the Moselle, the ruined +hill-fortress that gives its name to the better-known town at its +foot. Our road ran below the long range of the "Grand Couronne," the +line of hills curving southeast from Pont-a-Mousson to St. +Nicolas du Port. All through this pleasant broken country the battle +shook and swayed last autumn; but few signs of those days are left +except the wooden crosses in the fields. No troops are visible, and +the pictures of war that made the Argonne so tragic last March are +replaced by peaceful rustic scenes. On the way to Mousson the road +is overhung by an Italian-looking village clustered about a +hill-top. It marks the exact spot at which, last August, the German +invasion was finally checked and flung back; and the Muse of History +points out that on this very hill has long stood a memorial shaft +inscribed: <I>Here, in the year 362, Jovinus defeated the Teutonic +hordes.</I> +</P> + +<P> +A little way up the ascent to Mousson we left the motor behind a bit +of rising ground. The road is raked by the German lines, and stray +pedestrians (unless in a group) are less liable than a motor to have +a shell spent on them. We climbed under a driving grey sky which +swept gusts of rain across our road. In the lee of the castle we +stopped to look down at the valley of the Moselle, the slate roofs +of Pont-a-Mousson and the broken bridge which once linked +together the two sides of the town. Nothing but the wreck of the +bridge showed that we were on the edge of war. The wind was too high +for firing, and we saw no reason for believing that the wood just +behind the Hospice roof at our feet was seamed with German trenches +and bristling with guns, or that from every slope across the valley +the eye of the cannon sleeplessly glared. But there the Germans +were, drawing an iron ring about three sides of the watch-tower; and +as one peered through an embrasure of the ancient walls one +gradually found one's self re-living the sensations of the little +mediaeval burgh as it looked out on some earlier circle of +besiegers. The longer one looked, the more oppressive and menacing +the invisibility of the foe became. "<I>There</I> they are—and +<I>there</I>—and <I>there.</I>" We strained our eyes obediently, but saw only +calm hillsides, dozing farms. It was as if the earth itself were the +enemy, as if the hordes of evil were in the clods and grass-blades. +Only one conical hill close by showed an odd artificial patterning, +like the work of huge ants who had scarred it with criss-cross +ridges. We were told that these were French trenches, but they +looked much more like the harmless traces of a prehistoric camp. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly an officer, pointing to the west of the trenched hill said: +"Do you see that farm?" It lay just below, near the river, and so +close that good eyes could easily have discerned people or animals +in the farm-yard, if there had been any; but the whole place seemed +to be sleeping the sleep of bucolic peace. "<I>They are there</I>," the +officer said; and the innocent vignette framed by my field-glass +suddenly glared back at me like a human mask of hate. The loudest +cannonade had not made "them" seem as real as that!... +</P> + +<P> +At this point the military lines and the old political frontier +everywhere overlap, and in a cleft of the wooded hills that conceal +the German batteries we saw a dark grey blur on the grey horizon. It +was Metz, the Promised City, lying there with its fair steeples and +towers, like the mystic banner that Constantine saw upon the sky... +</P> + +<P> +Through wet vineyards and orchards we scrambled down the hill to the +river and entered Pont-a-Mousson. It was by mere meteorological good +luck that we got there, for if the winds had been asleep the guns +would have been awake, and when they wake poor Pont-a-Mousson is not +at home to visitors. One understood why as one stood in the riverside +garden of the great Premonstratensian Monastery which is now the +hospital and the general asylum of the town. Between the clipped +limes and formal borders the German shells had scooped out three +or four "dreadful hollows," in one of which, only last week, a +little girl found her death; and the facade of the building is +pock-marked by shot and disfigured with gaping holes. Yet in this +precarious shelter Sister Theresia, of the same indomitable breed as +the Sisters of Clermont and Gerbeviller, has gathered a miscellaneous +flock of soldiers wounded in the trenches, civilians shattered by the +bombardment, eclopes, old women and children: all the human wreckage +of this storm-beaten point of the front. Sister Theresia seems in no +wise disconcerted by the fact that the shells continually play over +her roof. The building is immense and spreading, and when one wing +is damaged she picks up her proteges and trots them off, bed and +baggage, to another. "<I>Je promene mes malades</I>," she said calmly, +as if boasting of the varied accommodation of an ultra-modern +hospital, as she led us through vaulted and stuccoed galleries where +caryatid-saints look down in plaster pomp on the rows of +brown-blanketed pallets and the long tables at which haggard eclopes +were enjoying their evening soup. +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4> +May 15th. +</H4> + +<P> +I have seen the happiest being on earth: a man who has found his +job. +</P> + +<P> +This afternoon we motored southwest of Nancy to a little place +called Menil-sur-Belvitte. The name is not yet intimately known to +history, but there are reasons why it deserves to be, and in one +man's mind it already is. Menil-sur-Belvitte is a village on the +edge of the Vosges. It is badly battered, for awful fighting took +place there in the first month of the war. The houses lie in a +hollow, and just beyond it the ground rises and spreads into a +plateau waving with wheat and backed by wooded slopes—the ideal +"battleground" of the history-books. And here a real above-ground +battle of the old obsolete kind took place, and the French, driving +the Germans back victoriously, fell by thousands in the trampled +wheat. +</P> + +<P> +The church of Menil is a ruin, but the parsonage still stands—a +plain little house at the end of the street; and here the cure +received us, and led us into a room which he has turned into a +chapel. The chapel is also a war museum, and everything in it has +something to do with the battle that took place among the +wheat-fields. The candelabra on the altar are made of "Seventy-five" +shells, the Virgin's halo is composed of radiating bayonets, the +walls are intricately adorned with German trophies and French +relics, and on the ceiling the cure has had painted a kind of +zodiacal chart of the whole region, in which Menil-sur-Belvitte's +handful of houses figures as the central orb of the system, and +Verdun, Nancy, Metz, and Belfort as its humble satellites. But the +chapel-museum is only a surplus expression of the cure's impassioned +dedication to the dead. His real work has been done on the +battle-field, where row after row of graves, marked and listed as +soon as the struggle was over, have been fenced about, symmetrically +disposed, planted with flowers and young firs, and marked by the +names and death-dates of the fallen. As he led us from one of these +enclosures to another his face was lit with the flame of a gratified +vocation. This particular man was made to do this particular thing: +he is a born collector, classifier, and hero-worshipper. In the hall +of the "presbytere" hangs a case of carefully-mounted butterflies, +the result, no doubt, of an earlier passion for collecting. His +"specimens" have changed, that is all: he has passed from +butterflies to men, from the actual to the visionary Psyche. +</P> + +<P> +On the way to Menil we stopped at the village of Crevic. The Germans +were there in August, but the place is untouched—except for one +house. That house, a large one, standing in a park at one end of the +village, was the birth-place and home of General Lyautey, one of +France's best soldiers, and Germany's worst enemy in Africa. It is +no exaggeration to say that last August General Lyautey, by his +promptness and audacity, saved Morocco for France. The Germans know +it, and hate him; and as soon as the first soldiers reached +Crevic—so obscure and imperceptible a spot that even German +omniscience might have missed it—the officer in command asked for +General Lyautey's house, went straight to it, had all the papers, +portraits, furniture and family relics piled in a bonfire in the +court, and then burnt down the house. As we sat in the neglected +park with the plaintive ruin before us we heard from the gardener +this typical tale of German thoroughness and German chivalry. It is +corroborated by the fact that not another house in Crevic was +destroyed. +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4> +May 16th. +</H4> + +<P> +About two miles from the German frontier (<I>frontier</I> just here as +well as front) an isolated hill rises out of the Lorraine meadows. +East of it, a ribbon of river winds among poplars, and that ribbon +is the boundary between Empire and Republic. On such a clear day as +this the view from the hill is extraordinarily interesting. From its +grassy top a little aeroplane cannon stares to heaven, watching the +east for the danger speck; and the circumference of the hill is +furrowed by a deep trench—a "bowel," rather—winding invisibly from +one subterranean observation post to another. In each of these +earthly warrens (ingeniously wattled, roofed and iron-sheeted) stand +two or three artillery officers with keen quiet faces, directing by +telephone the fire of batteries nestling somewhere in the woods four +or five miles away. Interesting as the place was, the men who lived +there interested me far more. They obviously belonged to different +classes, and had received a different social education; but their +mental and moral fraternity was complete. They were all fairly +young, and their faces had the look that war has given to French +faces: a look of sharpened intelligence, strengthened will and +sobered judgment, as if every faculty, trebly vivified, were so bent +on the one end that personal problems had been pushed back to the +vanishing point of the great perspective. +</P> + +<P> +From this vigilant height—one of the intentest eyes open on the +frontier—we went a short distance down the hillside to a village +out of range of the guns, where the commanding officer gave us tea +in a charming old house with a terraced garden full of flowers and +puppies. Below the terrace, lost Lorraine stretched away to her blue +heights, a vision of summer peace: and just above us the unsleeping +hill kept watch, its signal-wires trembling night and day. It was +one of the intervals of rest and sweetness when the whole horrible +black business seems to press most intolerably on the nerves. +</P> + +<P> +Below the village the road wound down to a forest that had formed a +dark blur in our bird's-eye view of the plain. We passed into the +forest and halted on the edge of a colony of queer exotic huts. On +all sides they peeped through the branches, themselves so branched +and sodded and leafy that they seemed like some transition form +between tree and house. We were in one of the so-called "villages +negres" of the second-line trenches, the jolly little settlements to +which the troops retire after doing their shift under fire. This +particular colony has been developed to an extreme degree of comfort +and safety. The houses are partly underground, connected by deep +winding "bowels" over which light rustic bridges have been thrown, +and so profoundly roofed with sods that as much of them as shows +above ground is shell-proof. Yet they are real houses, with real +doors and windows under their grass-eaves, real furniture inside, +and real beds of daisies and pansies at their doors. In the +Colonel's bungalow a big bunch of spring flowers bloomed on the +table, and everywhere we saw the same neatness and order, the same +amused pride in the look of things. The men were dining at long +trestle-tables under the trees; tired, unshaven men in shabby +uniforms of all cuts and almost every colour. They were off duty, +relaxed, in a good humour; but every face had the look of the faces +watching on the hill-top. Wherever I go among these men of the front +I have the same impression: the impression that the absorbing +undivided thought of the Defense of France lives in the heart and +brain of each soldier as intensely as in the heart and brain of +their chief. +</P> + +<P> +We walked a dozen yards down the road and came to the edge of the +forest. A wattled palisade bounded it, and through a gap in the +palisade we looked out across a field to the roofs of a quiet +village a mile away. I went out a few steps into the field and was +abruptly pulled back. "Take care—those are the trenches!" What +looked like a ridge thrown up by a plough was the enemy's line; and +in the quiet village French cannon watched. Suddenly, as we stood +there, they woke, and at the same moment we heard the unmistakable +Gr-r-r of an aeroplane and saw a Bird of Evil high up against the +blue. Snap, snap, snap barked the mitrailleuse on the hill, the +soldiers jumped from their wine and strained their eyes through the +trees, and the Taube, finding itself the centre of so much +attention, turned grey tail and swished away to the concealing +clouds. +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4> +May 17th. +</H4> + +<P> +Today we started with an intenser sense of adventure. Hitherto we +had always been told beforehand where we were going and how much we +were to be allowed to see; but now we were being launched into the +unknown. Beyond a certain point all was conjecture—we knew only +that what happened after that would depend on the good-will of a +Colonel of Chasseurs-a-pied whom we were to go a long way to +find, up into the folds of the mountains on our southeast horizon. +</P> + +<P> +We picked up a staff-officer at Head-quarters and flew on to a +battered town on the edge of the hills. From there we wound up +through a narrowing valley, under wooded cliffs, to a little +settlement where the Colonel of the Brigade was to be found. There +was a short conference between the Colonel and our staff-officer, +and then we annexed a Captain of Chasseurs and spun away again. Our +road lay through a town so exposed that our companion from +Head-quarters suggested the advisability of avoiding it; but our +guide hadn't the heart to inflict such a disappointment on his new +acquaintances. "Oh, we won't stop the motor—we'll just dash +through," he said indulgently; and in the excess of his indulgence +he even permitted us to dash slowly. +</P> + +<P> +Oh, that poor town—when we reached it, along a road ploughed with +fresh obus-holes, I didn't want to stop the motor; I wanted to hurry +on and blot the picture from my memory! It was doubly sad to look at +because of the fact that it wasn't <I>quite dead;</I> faint spasms of +life still quivered through it. A few children played in the ravaged +streets; a few pale mothers watched them from cellar doorways. "They +oughtn't to be here," our guide explained; "but about a hundred and +fifty begged so hard to stay that the General gave them leave. The +officer in command has an eye on them, and whenever he gives the +signal they dive down into their burrows. He says they are perfectly +obedient. It was he who asked that they might stay..." +</P> + +<P> +Up and up into the hills. The vision of human pain and ruin was lost +in beauty. We were among the firs, and the air was full of balm. The +mossy banks gave out a scent of rain, and little water-falls from +the heights set the branches trembling over secret pools. At each +turn of the road, forest, and always more forest, climbing with us +as we climbed, and dropped away from us to narrow valleys that +converged on slate-blue distances. At one of these turns we overtook +a company of soldiers, spade on shoulder and bags of tools across +their backs—"trench-workers" swinging up to the heights to which we +were bound. Life must be a better thing in this crystal air than in +the mud-welter of the Argonne and the fogs of the North; and these +men's faces were fresh with wind and weather. +</P> + +<P> +Higher still ... and presently a halt on a ridge, in another +"black village," this time almost a town! The soldiers gathered +round us as the motor stopped—throngs of chasseurs-a-pied in +faded, trench-stained uniforms—for few visitors climb to this +point, and their pleasure at the sight of new faces was presently +expressed in a large "<I>Vive l'Amerique!</I>" scrawled on the door of +the car. <I>L'Amerique</I> was glad and proud to be there, and instantly +conscious of breathing an air saturated with courage and the dogged +determination to endure. The men were all reservists: that is to +say, mostly married, and all beyond the first fighting age. For many +months there has not been much active work along this front, no +great adventure to rouse the blood and wing the imagination: it has +just been month after month of monotonous watching and holding on. +And the soldiers' faces showed it: there was no light of heady +enterprise in their eyes, but the look of men who knew their job, +had thought it over, and were there to hold their bit of France till +the day of victory or extermination. +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile, they had made the best of the situation and turned their +quarters into a forest colony that would enchant any normal boy. +Their village architecture was more elaborate than any we had yet +seen. In the Colonel's "dugout" a long table decked with lilacs and +tulips was spread for tea. In other cheery catacombs we found neat +rows of bunks, mess-tables, sizzling sauce-pans over kitchen-fires. +Everywhere were endless ingenuities in the way of camp-furniture and +household decoration. Farther down the road a path between +fir-boughs led to a hidden hospital, a marvel of underground +compactness. While we chatted with the surgeon a soldier came in +from the trenches: an elderly, bearded man, with a good average +civilian face—the kind that one runs against by hundreds in any +French crowd. He had a scalp-wound which had just been dressed, and +was very pale. The Colonel stopped to ask a few questions, and then, +turning to him, said: "Feeling rather better now?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"Good. In a day or two you'll be thinking about going back to the +trenches, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"<I>I'm going now, sir.</I>" It was said quite simply, and received in +the same way. "Oh, all right," the Colonel merely rejoined; but he +laid his hand on the man's shoulder as we went out. +</P> + +<P> +Our next visit was to a sod-thatched hut, "At the sign of the +Ambulant Artisans," where two or three soldiers were modelling and +chiselling all kinds of trinkets from the aluminum of enemy shells. +One of the ambulant artisans was just finishing a ring with +beautifully modelled fauns' heads, another offered me a +"Pickelhaube" small enough for Mustard-seed's wear, but complete in +every detail, and inlaid with the bronze eagle from an Imperial +pfennig. There are many such ringsmiths among the privates at the +front, and the severe, somewhat archaic design of their rings is a +proof of the sureness of French taste; but the two we visited +happened to be Paris jewellers, for whom "artisan" was really too +modest a pseudonym. Officers and men were evidently proud of their +work, and as they stood hammering away in their cramped smithy, a +red gleam lighting up the intentness of their faces, they seemed to +be beating out the cheerful rhythm of "I too will something make, +and joy in the making."... +</P> + +<P> +Up the hillside, in deeper shadow, was another little structure; a +wooden shed with an open gable sheltering an altar with candles and +flowers. Here mass is said by one of the conscript priests of the +regiment, while his congregation kneel between the fir-trunks, +giving life to the old metaphor of the cathedral-forest. Near by was +the grave-yard, where day by day these quiet elderly men lay their +comrades, the <I>peres de famille</I> who don't go back. The care of this +woodland cemetery is left entirely to the soldiers, and they have +spent treasures of piety on the inscriptions and decorations of the +graves. Fresh flowers are brought up from the valleys to cover them, +and when some favourite comrade goes, the men scorning ephemeral +tributes, club together to buy a monstrous indestructible wreath +with emblazoned streamers. It was near the end of the afternoon, and +many soldiers were strolling along the paths between the graves. +"It's their favourite walk at this hour," the Colonel said. He +stopped to look down on a grave smothered in beady tokens, the grave +of the last pal to fall. "He was mentioned in the Order of the Day," +the Colonel explained; and the group of soldiers standing near +looked at us proudly, as if sharing their comrade's honour, and +wanting to be sure that we understood the reason of their pride... +</P> + +<P> +"And now," said our Captain of Chasseurs, "that you've seen the +second-line trenches, what do you say to taking a look at the +first?" +</P> + +<P> +We followed him to a point higher up the hill, where we plunged into +a deep ditch of red earth—the "bowel" leading to the first lines. +It climbed still higher, under the wet firs, and then, turning, +dipped over the edge and began to wind in sharp loops down the other +side of the ridge. Down we scrambled, single file, our chins on a +level with the top of the passage, the close green covert above us. +The "bowel" went twisting down more and more sharply into a deep +ravine; and presently, at a bend, we came to a fir-thatched outlook, +where a soldier stood with his back to us, his eye glued to a +peep-hole in the wattled wall. Another turn, and another outlook; +but here it was the iron-rimmed eye of the mitrailleuse that stared +across the ravine. By this time we were within a hundred yards or so +of the German lines, hidden, like ours, on the other side of the +narrowing hollow; and as we stole down and down, the hush and +secrecy of the scene, and the sense of that imminent lurking hatred +only a few branch-lengths away, seemed to fill the silence with +mysterious pulsations. Suddenly a sharp noise broke on them: the rap +of a rifle-shot against a tree-trunk a few yards ahead. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, the sharp-shooter," said our guide. "No more talking, +please—he's over there, in a tree somewhere, and whenever he hears +voices he fires. Some day we shall spot his tree." +</P> + +<P> +We went on in silence to a point where a few soldiers were sitting +on a ledge of rock in a widening of the "bowel." They looked as +quiet as if they had been waiting for their bocks before a Boulevard +cafe. +</P> + +<P> +"Not beyond, please," said the officer, holding me back; and I +stopped. +</P> + +<P> +Here we were, then, actually and literally in the first lines! The +knowledge made one's heart tick a little; but, except for another +shot or two from our arboreal listener, and the motionless +intentness of the soldier's back at the peep-hole, there was nothing +to show that we were not a dozen miles away. +</P> + +<P> +Perhaps the thought occurred to our Captain of Chasseurs; for just +as I was turning back he said with his friendliest twinkle: "Do you +want awfully to go a little farther? Well, then, come on." +</P> + +<P> +We went past the soldiers sitting on the ledge and stole down and +down, to where the trees ended at the bottom of the ravine. The +sharp-shooter had stopped firing, and nothing disturbed the leafy +silence but an intermittent drip of rain. We were at the end of the +burrow, and the Captain signed to me that I might take a cautious +peep round its corner. I looked out and saw a strip of intensely +green meadow just under me, and a wooded cliff rising abruptly on +its other side. That was all. The wooded cliff swarmed with "them," +and a few steps would have carried us across the interval; yet all +about us was silence, and the peace of the forest. Again, for a +minute, I had the sense of an all-pervading, invisible power of +evil, a saturation of the whole landscape with some hidden vitriol +of hate. Then the reaction of the unbelief set in, and I felt myself +in a harmless ordinary glen, like a million others on an untroubled +earth. We turned and began to climb again, loop by loop, up the +"bowel"—we passed the lolling soldiers, the silent mitrailleuse, we +came again to the watcher at his peep-hole. He heard us, let the +officer pass, and turned his head with a little sign of +understanding. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you want to look down?" +</P> + +<P> +He moved a step away from his window. The look-out projected over +the ravine, raking its depths; and here, with one's eye to the +leaf-lashed hole, one saw at last ... saw, at the bottom of the +harmless glen, half way between cliff and cliff, a grey uniform +huddled in a dead heap. "He's been there for days: they can't fetch +him away," said the watcher, regluing his eye to the hole; and it +was almost a relief to find it was after all a tangible enemy hidden +over there across the meadow... +</P> + +<P> +The sun had set when we got back to our starting-point in the +underground village. The chasseurs-a-pied were lounging along +the roadside and standing in gossiping groups about the motor. It +was long since they had seen faces from the other life, the life +they had left nearly a year earlier and had not been allowed to go +back to for a day; and under all their jokes and good-humour their +farewell had a tinge of wistfulness. But one felt that this fugitive +reminder of a world they had put behind them would pass like a +dream, and their minds revert without effort to the one reality: the +business of holding their bit of France. +</P> + +<P> +It is hard to say why this sense of the French soldier's +single-mindedness is so strong in all who have had even a glimpse of +the front; perhaps it is gathered less from what the men say than +from the look in their eyes. Even while they are accepting +cigarettes and exchanging trench-jokes, the look is there; and when +one comes on them unaware it is there also. In the dusk of the +forest that look followed us down the mountain; and as we skirted +the edge of the ravine between the armies, we felt that on the far +side of that dividing line were the men who had made the war, and on +the near side the men who had been made by it. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="north"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +IN THE NORTH +</H3> + +<H4> +June 19th, 1915. +</H4> + +<P> +On the way from Doullens to Montreuil-sur-Mer, on a shining summer +afternoon. A road between dusty hedges, choked, literally strangled, +by a torrent of westward-streaming troops of all arms. Every few +minutes there would come a break in the flow, and our motor would +wriggle through, advance a few yards, and be stopped again by a +widening of the torrent that jammed us into the ditch and splashed a +dazzle of dust into our eyes. The dust was stifling—but through it, +what a sight! +</P> + +<P> +Standing up in the car and looking back, we watched the river of war +wind toward us. Cavalry, artillery, lancers, infantry, sappers and +miners, trench-diggers, road-makers, stretcher-bearers, they swept +on as smoothly as if in holiday order. Through the dust, the sun +picked out the flash of lances and the gloss of chargers' flanks, +flushed rows and rows of determined faces, found the least touch of +gold on faded uniforms, silvered the sad grey of mitrailleuses and +munition waggons. Close as the men were, they seemed allegorically +splendid: as if, under the arch of the sunset, we had been watching +the whole French army ride straight into glory... +</P> + +<P> +Finally we left the last detachment behind, and had the country to +ourselves. The disfigurement of war has not touched the fields of +Artois. The thatched farmhouses dozed in gardens full of roses and +hollyhocks, and the hedges above the duck-ponds were weighed down +with layers of elder-blossom. On all sides wheat-fields skirted with +woodland went billowing away under the breezy light that seemed to +carry a breath of the Atlantic on its beams. The road ran up and +down as if our motor were a ship on a deep-sea swell; and such a +sense of space and light was in the distances, such a veil of beauty +over the whole world, that the vision of that army on the move grew +more and more fabulous and epic. +</P> + +<P> +The sun had set and the sea-twilight was rolling in when we dipped +down from the town of Montreuil to the valley below, where the +towers of an ancient abbey-church rise above terraced orchards. The +gates at the end of the avenue were thrown open, and the motor drove +into a monastery court full of box and roses. Everything was sweet +and secluded in this mediaeval place; and from the shadow of +cloisters and arched passages groups of nuns fluttered out, nuns all +black or all white, gliding, peering and standing at gaze. It was as +if we had plunged back into a century to which motors were unknown +and our car had been some monster cast up from a Barbary shipwreck; +and the startled attitudes of these holy women did credit to their +sense of the picturesque; for the Abbey of Neuville is now a great +Belgian hospital, and such monsters must frequently intrude on its +seclusion... +</P> + +<P> +Sunset, and summer dusk, and the moon. Under the monastery windows a +walled garden with stone pavilions at the angles and the drip of a +fountain. Below it, tiers of orchard-terraces fading into a great +moon-confused plain that might be either fields or sea... +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4> +June 20th. +</H4> + +<P> +Today our way ran northeast, through a landscape so English that +there was no incongruity in the sprinkling of khaki along the road. +Even the villages look English: the same plum-red brick of tidy +self-respecting houses, neat, demure and freshly painted, the +gardens all bursting with flowers, the landscape hedgerowed and +willowed and fed with water-courses, the people's faces square and +pink and honest, and the signs over the shops in a language half way +between English and German. Only the architecture of the towns is +French, of a reserved and robust northern type, but unmistakably in +the same great tradition. +</P> + +<P> +War still seemed so far off that one had time for these digressions +as the motor flew on over the undulating miles. But presently we +came on an aviation camp spreading its sheds over a wide plateau. +Here the khaki throng was thicker and the familiar military stir +enlivened the landscape. A few miles farther, and we found ourselves +in what was seemingly a big English town oddly grouped about a +nucleus of French churches. This was St. Omer, grey, spacious, +coldly clean in its Sunday emptiness. At the street crossings +English sentries stood mechanically directing the absent traffic +with gestures familiar to Piccadilly; and the signs of the British +Red Cross and St. John's Ambulance hung on club-like facades that +might almost have claimed a home in Pall Mall. +</P> + +<P> +The Englishness of things was emphasized, as we passed out through +the suburbs, by the look of the crowd on the canal bridges and along +the roads. Every nation has its own way of loitering, and there is +nothing so unlike the French way as the English. Even if all these +tall youths had not been in khaki, and the girls with them so pink +and countrified, one would instantly have recognized the passive +northern way of letting a holiday soak in instead of squeezing out +its juices with feverish fingers. +</P> + +<P> +When we turned westward from St. Omer, across the same pastures and +watercourses, we were faced by two hills standing up abruptly out of +the plain; and on the top of one rose the walls and towers of a +compact little mediaeval town. As we took the windings that led up +to it a sense of Italy began to penetrate the persistent impression +of being somewhere near the English Channel. The town we were +approaching might have been a queer dream-blend of Winchelsea and +San Gimignano; but when we entered the gates of Cassel we were in a +place so intensely itself that all analogies dropped out of mind. +</P> + +<P> +It was not surprising to learn from the guide-book that Cassel has +the most extensive view of any town in Europe: one felt at once that +it differed in all sorts of marked and self-assertive ways from +every other town, and would be almost sure to have the best things +going in every line. And the line of an illimitable horizon is +exactly the best to set off its own quaint compactness. +</P> + +<P> +We found our hotel in the most perfect of little market squares, +with a Renaissance town-hall on one side, and on the other a +miniature Spanish palace with a front of rosy brick adorned by grey +carvings. The square was crowded with English army motors and +beautiful prancing chargers; and the restaurant of the inn (which +has the luck to face the pink and grey palace) swarmed with khaki +tea-drinkers turning indifferent shoulders to the widest view in +Europe. It is one of the most detestable things about war that +everything connected with it, except the death and ruin that result, +is such a heightening of life, so visually stimulating and +absorbing. "It was gay and terrible," is the phrase forever +recurring in "War and Peace"; and the gaiety of war was everywhere +in Cassel, transforming the lifeless little town into a romantic +stage-setting full of the flash of arms and the virile animation of +young faces. +</P> + +<P> +From the park on top of the hill we looked down on another picture. +All about us was the plain, its distant rim merged in northern +sea-mist; and through the mist, in the glitter of the afternoon sun, +far-off towns and shadowy towers lay steeped, as it seemed, in +summer quiet. For a moment, while we looked, the vision of war +shrivelled up like a painted veil; then we caught the names +pronounced by a group of English soldiers leaning over the parapet +at our side. "That's Dunkerque"—one of them pointed it out with his +pipe—"and there's Poperinghe, just under us; that's Furnes beyond, +and Ypres and Dixmude, and Nieuport..." And at the mention of +those names the scene grew dark again, and we felt the passing of +the Angel to whom was given the Key of the Bottomless Pit. +</P> + +<P> +That night we went up once more to the rock of Cassel. The moon was +full, and as civilians are not allowed out alone after dark a +staff-officer went with us to show us the view from the roof of the +disused Casino on top of the rock. It was the queerest of sensations +to push open a glazed door and find ourselves in a spectral painted +room with soldiers dozing in the moonlight on polished floors, their +kits stacked on the gaming tables. We passed through a big vestibule +among more soldiers lounging in the half-light, and up a long +staircase to the roof where a watcher challenged us and then let us +go to the edge of the parapet. Directly below lay the unlit mass of +the town. To the northwest a single sharp hill, the "Mont des Cats," +stood out against the sky; the rest of the horizon was unbroken, and +floating in misty moonlight. The outline of the ruined towns had +vanished and peace seemed to have won back the world. But as we +stood there a red flash started out of the mist far off to the +northwest; then another and another flickered up at different points +of the long curve. "Luminous bombs thrown up along the lines," our +guide explained; and just then, at still another point a white light +opened like a tropical flower, spread to full bloom and drew itself +back into the night. "A flare," we were told; and another white +flower bloomed out farther down. Below us, the roofs of Cassel slept +their provincial sleep, the moonlight picking out every leaf in the +gardens; while beyond, those infernal flowers continued to open and +shut along the curve of death. +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4> +June 21st. +</H4> + +<P> +On the road from Cassel to Poperinghe. Heat, dust, crowds, +confusion, all the sordid shabby rear-view of war. The road running +across the plain between white-powdered hedges was ploughed up by +numberless motor-vans, supply-waggons and Red Cross ambulances. +Labouring through between them came detachments of British +artillery, clattering gun-carriages, straight young figures on +glossy horses, long Phidian lines of youths so ingenuously fair that +one wondered how they could have looked on the Medusa face of war +and lived. Men and beasts, in spite of the dust, were as fresh and +sleek as if they had come from a bath; and everywhere along the +wayside were improvised camps, with tents made of waggon-covers, +where the ceaseless indomitable work of cleaning was being carried +out in all its searching details. Shirts were drying on +elder-bushes, kettles boiling over gypsy fires, men shaving, +blacking their boots, cleaning their guns, rubbing down their +horses, greasing their saddles, polishing their stirrups and bits: +on all sides a general cheery struggle against the prevailing dust, +discomfort and disorder. Here and there a young soldier leaned +against a garden paling to talk to a girl among the hollyhocks, or +an older soldier initiated a group of children into some mystery of +military housekeeping; and everywhere were the same signs of +friendly inarticulate understanding with the owners of the fields +and gardens. +</P> + +<P> +From the thronged high-road we passed into the emptiness of deserted +Poperinghe, and out again on the way to Ypres. Beyond the flats and +wind-mills to our left were the invisible German lines, and the +staff-officer who was with us leaned forward to caution our +chauffeur: "No tooting between here and Ypres." There was still a +good deal of movement on the road, though it was less crowded with +troops than near Poperinghe; but as we passed through the last +village and approached the low line of houses ahead, the silence and +emptiness widened about us. That low line was Ypres; every monument +that marked it, that gave it an individual outline, is gone. It is a +town without a profile. +</P> + +<P> +The motor slipped through a suburb of small brick houses and stopped +under cover of some slightly taller buildings. Another military +motor waited there, the chauffeur relic-hunting in the gutted +houses. +</P> + +<P> +We got out and walked toward the centre of the Cloth Market. We had +seen evacuated towns—Verdun, Badonviller, Raon-l'Etape—but we had +seen no emptiness like this. Not a human being was in the streets. +Endless lines of houses looked down on us from vacant windows. Our +footsteps echoed like the tramp of a crowd, our lowered voices +seemed to shout. In one street we came on three English soldiers who +were carrying a piano out of a house and lifting it onto a +hand-cart. They stopped to stare at us, and we stared back. It +seemed an age since we had seen a living being! One of the soldiers +scrambled into the cart and tapped out a tune on the cracked +key-board, and we all laughed with relief at the foolish noise... +Then we walked on and were alone again. +</P> + +<P> +We had seen other ruined towns, but none like this. The towns of +Lorraine were blown up, burnt down, deliberately erased from the +earth. At worst they are like stone-yards, at best like Pompeii. But +Ypres has been bombarded to death, and the outer walls of its houses +are still standing, so that it presents the distant semblance of a +living city, while near by it is seen to be a disembowelled corpse. +Every window-pane is smashed, nearly every building unroofed, and +some house-fronts are sliced clean off, with the different stories +exposed, as if for the stage-setting of a farce. In these exposed +interiors the poor little household gods shiver and blink like owls +surprised in a hollow tree. A hundred signs of intimate and humble +tastes, of humdrum pursuits, of family association, cling to the +unmasked walls. Whiskered photographs fade on morning-glory +wallpapers, plaster saints pine under glass bells, antimacassars +droop from plush sofas, yellowing diplomas display their seals on +office walls. It was all so still and familiar that it seemed as if +the people for whom these things had a meaning might at any moment +come back and take up their daily business. And then—crash! the +guns began, slamming out volley after volley all along the English +lines, and the poor frail web of things that had made up the lives +of a vanished city-full hung dangling before us in that deathly +blast. +</P> + +<P> +We had just reached the square before the Cathedral when the +cannonade began, and its roar seemed to build a roof of iron over +the glorious ruins of Ypres. The singular distinction of the city is +that it is destroyed but not abased. The walls of the Cathedral, the +long bulk of the Cloth Market, still lift themselves above the +market place with a majesty that seems to silence compassion. The +sight of those facades, so proud in death, recalled a phrase used +soon after the fall of Liege by Belgium's Foreign Minister—"<I>La +Belgique ne regrette rien</I> "—which ought some day to serve as the +motto of the renovated city. +</P> + +<P> +We were turning to go when we heard a whirr overhead, followed by a +volley of mitrailleuse. High up in the blue, over the centre of the +dead city, flew a German aeroplane; and all about it hundreds of +white shrapnel tufts burst out in the summer sky like the miraculous +snow-fall of Italian legend. Up and up they flew, on the trail of +the Taube, and on flew the Taube, faster still, till quarry and pack +were lost in mist, and the barking of the mitrailleuse died out. So +we left Ypres to the death-silence in which we had found her. +</P> + +<P> +The afternoon carried us back to Poperinghe, where I was bound on a +quest for lace-cushions of the special kind required by our Flemish +refugees. The model is unobtainable in France, and I had been +told—with few and vague indications—that I might find the cushions +in a certain convent of the city. But in which? +</P> + +<P> +Poperinghe, though little injured, is almost empty. In its tidy +desolation it looks like a town on which a wicked enchanter has laid +a spell. We roamed from quarter to quarter, hunting for some one to +show us the way to the convent I was looking for, till at last a +passer-by led us to a door which seemed the right one. At our knock +the bars were drawn and a cloistered face looked out. No, there were +no cushions there; and the nun had never heard of the order we +named. But there were the Penitents, the Benedictines—we might try. +Our guide offered to show us the way and we went on. From one or two +windows, wondering heads looked out and vanished; but the streets +were lifeless. At last we came to a convent where there were no nuns +left, but where, the caretaker told us, there were cushions—a great +many. He led us through pale blue passages, up cold stairs, through +rooms that smelt of linen and lavender. We passed a chapel with +plaster saints in white niches above paper flowers. Everything was +cold and bare and blank: like a mind from which memory has gone. We +came to a class room with lines of empty benches facing a +blue-mantled Virgin; and here, on the floor, lay rows and rows of +lace-cushions. On each a bit of lace had been begun—and there they +had been dropped when nuns and pupils fled. They had not been left +in disorder: the rows had been laid out evenly, a handkerchief +thrown over each cushion. And that orderly arrest of life seemed +sadder than any scene of disarray. It symbolized the senseless +paralysis of a whole nation's activities. Here were a houseful of +women and children, yesterday engaged in a useful task and now +aimlessly astray over the earth. And in hundreds of such houses, in +dozens, in hundreds of open towns, the hand of time had been +stopped, the heart of life had ceased to beat, all the currents of +hope and happiness and industry been choked—not that some great +military end might be gained, or the length of the war curtailed, +but that, wherever the shadow of Germany falls, all things should +wither at the root. +</P> + +<P> +The same sight met us everywhere that afternoon. Over Furnes and +Bergues, and all the little intermediate villages, the evil shadow +lay. Germany had willed that these places should die, and wherever +her bombs could not reach her malediction had carried. Only Biblical +lamentation can convey a vision of this life-drained land. "Your +country is desolate; your cities are burned with fire; your land, +strangers devour it in your presence, and it is desolate, as +overthrown by strangers." +</P> + +<P> +Late in the afternoon we came to Dunkerque, lying peacefully between +its harbour and canals. The bombardment of the previous month had +emptied it, and though no signs of damage were visible the same +spellbound air lay over everything. As we sat alone at tea in the +hall of the hotel on the Place Jean Bart, and looked out on the +silent square and its lifeless shops and cafes, some one suggested +that the hotel would be a convenient centre for the excursions we +had planned, and we decided to return there the next evening. Then +we motored back to Cassel. +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4> +June 22nd. +</H4> + +<P> +My first waking thought was: "How time flies! It must be the +Fourteenth of July!" I knew it could not be the Fourth of that +specially commemorative month, because I was just awake enough to be +sure I was not in America; and the only other event to justify such +a terrific clatter was the French national anniversary. I sat up and +listened to the popping of guns till a completed sense of reality +stole over me, and I realized that I was in the inn of the Wild Man +at Cassel, and that it was not the fourteenth of July but the +twenty-second of June. +</P> + +<P> +Then, what—? A Taube, of course! And all the guns in the place were +cracking at it! By the time this mental process was complete, I had +scrambled up and hurried downstairs and, unbolting the heavy doors, +had rushed out into the square. It was about four in the morning, +the heavenliest moment of a summer dawn, and in spite of the tumult +Cassel still apparently slept. Only a few soldiers stood in the +square, looking up at a drift of white cloud behind which—they +averred—a Taube had just slipped out of sight. Cassel was evidently +used to Taubes, and I had the sense of having overdone my excitement +and not being exactly in tune; so after gazing a moment at the white +cloud I slunk back into the hotel, barred the door and mounted to my +room. At a window on the stairs I paused to look out over the +sloping roofs of the town, the gardens, the plain; and suddenly +there was another crash and a drift of white smoke blew up from the +fruit-trees just under the window. It was a last shot at the +fugitive, from a gun hidden in one of those quiet provincial gardens +between the houses; and its secret presence there was more startling +than all the clatter of mitrailleuses from the rock. +</P> + +<P> +Silence and sleep came down again on Cassel; but an hour or two +later the hush was broken by a roar like the last trump. This time +it was no question of mitrailleuses. The Wild Man rocked on its +base, and every pane in my windows beat a tattoo. What was that +incredible unimagined sound? Why, it could be nothing, of course, +but the voice of the big siege-gun of Dixmude! Five times, while I +was dressing, the thunder shook my windows, and the air was filled +with a noise that may be compared—if the human imagination can +stand the strain—to the simultaneous closing of all the iron +shop-shutters in the world. The odd part was that, as far as the +Wild Man and its inhabitants were concerned, no visible effects +resulted, and dressing, packing and coffee-drinking went on +comfortably in the strange parentheses between the roars. +</P> + +<P> +We set off early for a neighbouring Head-quarters, and it was not +till we turned out of the gates of Cassel that we came on signs of +the bombardment: the smashing of a gas-house and the converting of a +cabbage-field into a crater which, for some time to come, will spare +photographers the trouble of climbing Vesuvius. There was a certain +consolation in the discrepancy between the noise and the damage +done. +</P> + +<P> +At Head-quarters we learned more of the morning's incidents. +Dunkerque, it appeared, had first been visited by the Taube which +afterward came to take the range of Cassel; and the big gun of +Dixmude had then turned all its fury on the French sea-port. The +bombardment of Dunkuerque was still going on; and we were asked, and +in fact bidden, to give up our plan of going there for the night. +</P> + +<P> +After luncheon we turned north, toward the dunes. The villages we +drove through were all evacuated, some quite lifeless, others +occupied by troops. Presently we came to a group of military motors +drawn up by the roadside, and a field black with wheeling troops. +"Admiral Ronarc'h!" our companion from Head-quarters exclaimed; and +we understood that we had had the good luck to come on the hero of +Dixmude in the act of reviewing the marine fusiliers and +territorials whose magnificent defense of last October gave that +much-besieged town another lease of glory. +</P> + +<P> +We stopped the motor and climbed to a ridge above the field. A high +wind was blowing, bringing with it the booming of the guns along the +front. A sun half-veiled in sand-dust shone on pale meadows, sandy +flats, grey wind-mills. The scene was deserted, except for the +handful of troops deploying before the officers on the edge of the +field. Admiral Ronarc'h, white-gloved and in full-dress uniform, +stood a little in advance, a young naval officer at his side. He had +just been distributing decorations to his fusiliers and +territorials, and they were marching past him, flags flying and +bugles playing. Every one of those men had a record of heroism, and +every face in those ranks had looked on horrors unnameable. They had +lost Dixmude—for a while—but they had gained great glory, and the +inspiration of their epic resistance had come from the quiet officer +who stood there, straight and grave, in his white gloves and gala +uniform. +</P> + +<P> +One must have been in the North to know something of the tie that +exists, in this region of bitter and continuous fighting, between +officers and soldiers. The feeling of the chiefs is almost one of +veneration for their men; that of the soldiers, a kind of +half-humorous tenderness for the officers who have faced such odds +with them. This mutual regard reveals itself in a hundred +undefinable ways; but its fullest expression is in the tone with +which the commanding officers speak the two words oftenest on their +lips: "My men." +</P> + +<P> +The little review over, we went on to Admiral Ronarc'h's quarters in +the dunes, and thence, after a brief visit, to another brigade +Head-quarters. We were in a region of sandy hillocks feathered by +tamarisk, and interspersed with poplar groves slanting like wheat in +the wind. Between these meagre thickets the roofs of seaside +bungalows showed above the dunes; and before one of these we +stopped, and were led into a sitting-room full of maps and aeroplane +photographs. One of the officers of the brigade telephoned to ask if +the way was clear to Nieuport; and the answer was that we might go +on. +</P> + +<P> +Our road ran through the "Bois Triangulaire," a bit of woodland +exposed to constant shelling. Half the poor spindling trees were +down, and patches of blackened undergrowth and ragged hollows marked +the path of the shells. If the trees of a cannonaded wood are of +strong inland growth their fallen trunks have the majesty of a +ruined temple; but there was something humanly pitiful in the frail +trunks of the Bois Triangulaire, lying there like slaughtered rows +of immature troops. +</P> + +<P> +A few miles more brought us to Nieuport, most lamentable of the +victim towns. It is not empty as Ypres is empty: troops are +quartered in the cellars, and at the approach of our motor knots of +cheerful zouaves came swarming out of the ground like ants. But +Ypres is majestic in death, poor Nieuport gruesomely comic. About +its splendid nucleus of mediaeval architecture a modern town had +grown up; and nothing stranger can be pictured than the contrast +between the streets of flimsy houses, twisted like curl-papers, and +the ruins of the Gothic Cathedral and the Cloth Market. It is like +passing from a smashed toy to the survival of a prehistoric +cataclysm. +</P> + +<P> +Modern Nieuport seems to have died in a colic. No less homely image +expresses the contractions and contortions of the houses reaching +out the appeal of their desperate chimney-pots and agonized girders. +There is one view along the exterior of the town like nothing else +on the warfront. On the left, a line of palsied houses leads up like +a string of crutch-propped beggars to the mighty ruin of the +Templars' Tower; on the right the flats reach away to the almost +imperceptible humps of masonry that were once the villages of St. +Georges, Ramscappelle, Pervyse. And over it all the incessant crash +of the guns stretches a sounding-board of steel. +</P> + +<P> +In front of the cathedral a German shell has dug a crater thirty +feet across, overhung by splintered tree-trunks, burnt shrubs, vague +mounds of rubbish; and a few steps beyond lies the peacefullest spot +in Nieuport, the grave-yard where the zouaves have buried their +comrades. The dead are laid in rows under the flank of the +cathedral, and on their carefully set grave-stones have been placed +collections of pious images gathered from the ruined houses. Some of +the most privileged are guarded by colonies of plaster saints and +Virgins that cover the whole slab; and over the handsomest Virgins +and the most gaily coloured saints the soldiers have placed the +glass bells that once protected the parlour clocks and wedding-wreaths +in the same houses. +</P> + +<P> +From sad Nieuport we motored on to a little seaside colony where +gaiety prevails. Here the big hotels and the adjoining villas along +the beach are filled with troops just back from the trenches: it is +one of the "rest cures" of the front. When we drove up, the regiment +"au repos" was assembled in the wide sandy space between the +principal hotels, and in the centre of the jolly crowd the band was +playing. The Colonel and his officers stood listening to the music, +and presently the soldiers broke into the wild "chanson des zouaves" +of the —th zouaves. It was the strangest of sights to watch that +throng of dusky merry faces under their red fezes against the +background of sunless northern sea. When the music was over some one +with a kodak suggested "a group": we struck a collective attitude on +one of the hotel terraces, and just as the camera was being aimed at +us the Colonel turned and drew into the foreground a little grinning +pock-marked soldier. "He's just been decorated—he's got to be in +the group." A general exclamation of assent from the other officers, +and a protest from the hero: "Me? Why, my ugly mug will smash the +plate!" But it didn't— +</P> + +<P> +Reluctantly we turned from this interval in the day's sad round, and +took the road to La Panne. Dust, dunes, deserted villages: my memory +keeps no more definite vision of the run. But at sunset we came on a +big seaside colony stretched out above the longest beach I ever saw: +along the sea-front, an esplanade bordered by the usual foolish +villas, and behind it a single street filled with hotels and shops. +All the life of the desert region we had traversed seemed to have +taken refuge at La Panne. The long street was swarming with throngs +of dark-uniformed Belgian soldiers, every shop seemed to be doing a +thriving trade, and the hotels looked as full as beehives. +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4> +June 23rd LA PANNE. +</H4> + +<P> +The particular hive that has taken us in is at the extreme end of +the esplanade, where asphalt and iron railings lapse abruptly into +sand and sea-grass. When I looked out of my window this morning I +saw only the endless stretch of brown sand against the grey roll of +the Northern Ocean and, on a crest of the dunes, the figure of a +solitary sentinel. But presently there was a sound of martial music, +and long lines of troops came marching along the esplanade and down +to the beach. The sands stretched away to east and west, a great +"field of Mars" on which an army could have manoeuvred; and the +morning exercises of cavalry and infantry began. Against the brown +beach the regiments in their dark uniforms looked as black as +silhouettes; and the cavalry galloping by in single file suggested a +black frieze of warriors encircling the dun-coloured flanks of an +Etruscan vase. For hours these long-drawn-out movements of troops +went on, to the wail of bugles, and under the eye of the lonely +sentinel on the sand-crest; then the soldiers poured back into the +town, and La Panne was once more a busy common-place <I>bain-de-mer</I>. +The common-placeness, however, was only on the surface; for as one +walked along the esplanade one discovered that the town had become a +citadel, and that all the doll's-house villas with their silly +gables and sillier names—"Seaweed," "The Sea-gull," "Mon Repos," +and the rest—were really a continuous line of barracks swarming +with Belgian troops. In the main street there were hundreds of +soldiers, pottering along in couples, chatting in groups, romping +and wrestling like a crowd of school-boys, or bargaining in the +shops for shell-work souvenirs and sets of post-cards; and between +the dark-green and crimson uniforms was a frequent sprinkling of +khaki, with the occasional pale blue of a French officer's tunic. +</P> + +<P> +Before luncheon we motored over to Dunkerque. The road runs along +the canal, between grass-flats and prosperous villages. No signs of +war were noticeable except on the road, which was crowded with motor +vans, ambulances and troops. The walls and gates of Dunkerque rose +before us as calm and undisturbed as when we entered the town the +day before yesterday. But within the gates we were in a desert. The +bombardment had ceased the previous evening, but a death-hush lay on +the town, Every house was shuttered and the streets were empty. We +drove to the Place Jean Bart, where two days ago we sat at tea in +the hall of the hotel. Now there was not a whole pane of glass in +the windows of the square, the doors of the hotel were closed, and +every now and then some one came out carrying a basketful of plaster +from fallen ceilings. The whole surface of the square was literally +paved with bits of glass from the hundreds of broken windows, and at +the foot of David's statue of Jean Bart, just where our motor had +stood while we had tea, the siege-gun of Dixmude had scooped out a +hollow as big as the crater at Nieuport. +</P> + +<P> +Though not a house on the square was touched, the scene was one of +unmitigated desolation. It was the first time we had seen the raw +wounds of a bombardment, and the freshness of the havoc seemed to +accentuate its cruelty. We wandered down the street behind the hotel +to the graceful Gothic church of St. Eloi, of which one aisle had +been shattered; then, turning another corner, we came on a poor +<I>bourgeois</I> house that had had its whole front torn away. The +squalid revelation of caved-in floors, smashed wardrobes, dangling +bedsteads, heaped-up blankets, topsy-turvy chairs and stoves and +wash-stands was far more painful than the sight of the wounded +church. St. Eloi was draped in the dignity of martyrdom, but the +poor little house reminded one of some shy humdrum person suddenly +exposed in the glare of a great misfortune. +</P> + +<P> +A few people stood in clusters looking up at the ruins, or strayed +aimlessly about the streets. Not a loud word was heard. The air +seemed heavy with the suspended breath of a great city's activities: +the mournful hush of Dunkerque was even more oppressive than the +death-silence of Ypres. But when we came back to the Place Jean Bart +the unbreakable human spirit had begun to reassert itself. A handful +of children were playing in the bottom of the crater, collecting +"specimens" of glass and splintered brick; and about its rim the +market-people, quietly and as a matter of course, were setting up +their wooden stalls. In a few minutes the signs of German havoc +would be hidden behind stacks of crockery and household utensils, +and some of the pale women we had left in mournful contemplation of +the ruins would be bargaining as sharply as ever for a sauce-pan or +a butter-tub. Not once but a hundred times has the attitude of the +average French civilian near the front reminded me of the gallant +cry of Calanthea in <I>The Broken Heart:</I> "Let me die smiling!" I +should have liked to stop and spend all I had in the market of +Dunkerque... +</P> + +<P> +All the afternoon we wandered about La Panne. The exercises of the +troops had begun again, and the deploying of those endless black +lines along the beach was a sight of the strangest beauty. The sun +was veiled, and heavy surges rolled in under a northerly gale. +Toward evening the sea turned to cold tints of jade and pearl and +tarnished silver. Far down the beach a mysterious fleet of fishing +boats was drawn up on the sand, with black sails bellying in the +wind; and the black riders galloping by might have landed from them, +and been riding into the sunset out of some wild northern legend. +Presently a knot of buglers took up their stand on the edge of the +sea, facing inward, their feet in the surf, and began to play; and +their call was like the call of Roland's horn, when he blew it down +the pass against the heathen. On the sandcrest below my window the +lonely sentinel still watched... +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4> +June 24th. +</H4> + +<P> +It is like coming down from the mountains to leave the front. I +never had the feeling more strongly than when we passed out of +Belgium this afternoon. I had it most strongly as we drove by a +cluster of villas standing apart in a sterile region of sea-grass +and sand. In one of those villas for nearly a year, two hearts at +the highest pitch of human constancy have held up a light to the +world. It is impossible to pass that house without a sense of awe. +Because of the light that comes from it, dead faiths have come to +life, weak convictions have grown strong, fiery impulses have turned +to long endurance, and long endurance has kept the fire of impulse. +In the harbour of New York there is a pompous statue of a goddess +with a torch, designated as "Liberty enlightening the World." It +seems as though the title on her pedestal might well, for the time, +be transferred to the lintel of that villa in the dunes. +</P> + +<P> +On leaving St. Omer we took a short cut southward across rolling +country. It was a happy accident that caused us to leave the main +road, for presently, over the crest of a hill, we saw surging toward +us a mighty movement of British and Indian troops. A great bath of +silver sunlight lay on the wheat-fields, the clumps of woodland and +the hilly blue horizon, and in that slanting radiance the cavalry +rode toward us, regiment after regiment of slim turbaned Indians, +with delicate proud faces like the faces of Princes in Persian +miniatures. Then came a long train of artillery; splendid horses, +clattering gun-carriages, clear-faced English youths galloping by +all aglow in the sunset. The stream of them seemed never-ending. Now +and then it was checked by a train of ambulances and supply-waggons, +or caught and congested in the crooked streets of a village where +children and girls had come out with bunches of flowers, and bakers +were selling hot loaves to the sutlers; and when we had extricated +our motor from the crowd, and climbed another hill, we came on +another cavalcade surging toward us through the wheat-fields. For +over an hour the procession poured by, so like and yet so unlike the +French division we had met on the move as we went north a few days +ago; so that we seemed to have passed to the northern front, and +away from it again, through a great flashing gateway in the long +wall of armies guarding the civilized world from the North Sea to +the Vosges. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="alsace"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +IN ALSACE +</H3> + +<H4> +August 13th, 1915. +</H4> + +<P> +My trip to the east began by a dash toward the north. Near Rheims is +a little town—hardly more than a village, but in English we have no +intermediate terms such as "bourg" and "petit bourg"—where one of +the new Red Cross sanitary motor units was to be seen "in action." +The inspection over, we climbed to a vineyard above the town and +looked down at a river valley traversed by a double line of trees. +The first line marked the canal, which is held by the French, who +have gun-boats on it. Behind this ran the high-road, with the +first-line French trenches, and just above, on the opposite slope, +were the German lines. The soil being chalky, the German positions +were clearly marked by two parallel white scorings across the brown +hill-front; and while we watched we heard desultory firing, and saw, +here and there along the ridge, the smoke-puff of an exploding +shell. It was incredibly strange to stand there, among the vines +humming with summer insects, and to look out over a peaceful country +heavy with the coming vintage, knowing that the trees at our feet +hid a line of gun-boats that were crashing death into those two +white scorings on the hill. +</P> + +<P> +Rheims itself brings one nearer to the war by its look of deathlike +desolation. The paralysis of the bombarded towns is one of the most +tragic results of the invasion. One's soul revolts at this senseless +disorganizing of innumerable useful activities. Compared with the +towns of the north, Rheims is relatively unharmed; but for that very +reason the arrest of life seems the more futile and cruel. The +Cathedral square was deserted, all the houses around it were closed. +And there, before us, rose the Cathedral—<I>a</I> cathedral, rather, for +it was not the one we had always known. It was, in fact, not like +any cathedral on earth. When the German bombardment began, the west +front of Rheims was covered with scaffolding: the shells set it on +fire, and the whole church was wrapped in flames. Now the +scaffolding is gone, and in the dull provincial square there stands +a structure so strange and beautiful that one must search the +Inferno, or some tale of Eastern magic, for words to picture the +luminous unearthly vision. The lower part of the front has been +warmed to deep tints of umber and burnt siena. This rich burnishing +passes, higher up, through yellowish-pink and carmine, to a sulphur +whitening to ivory; and the recesses of the portals and the hollows +behind the statues are lined with a black denser and more velvety +than any effect of shadow to be obtained by sculptured relief. The +interweaving of colour over the whole blunted bruised surface +recalls the metallic tints, the peacock-and-pigeon iridescences, the +incredible mingling of red, blue, umber and yellow of the rocks +along the Gulf of AEgina. And the wonder of the impression is +increased by the sense of its evanescence; the knowledge that this +is the beauty of disease and death, that every one of the +transfigured statues must crumble under the autumn rains, that every +one of the pink or golden stones is already eaten away to the core, +that the Cathedral of Rheims is glowing and dying before us like a +sunset... +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4> +August 14th. +</H4> + +<P> +A stone and brick chateau in a flat park with a stream running +through it. Pampas-grass, geraniums, rustic bridges, winding paths: +how <I>bourgeois</I> and sleepy it would all seem but for the sentinel +challenging our motor at the gate! +</P> + +<P> +Before the door a collie dozing in the sun, and a group of +staff-officers waiting for luncheon. Indoors, a room with handsome +tapestries, some good furniture and a table spread with the usual +military maps and aeroplane-photographs. At luncheon, the General, +the chiefs of the staff—a dozen in all—an officer from the General +Head-quarters. The usual atmosphere of <I>camaraderie</I>, confidence, +good-humour, and a kind of cheerful seriousness that I have come to +regard as characteristic of the men immersed in the actual facts of +the war. I set down this impression as typical of many such luncheon +hours along the front... +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4> +August 15th. +</H4> + +<P> +This morning we set out for reconquered Alsace. For reasons +unexplained to the civilian this corner of old-new France has +hitherto been inaccessible, even to highly placed French officials; +and there was a special sense of excitement in taking the road that +led to it. +</P> + +<P> +We slipped through a valley or two, passed some placid villages with +vine-covered gables, and noticed that most of the signs over the +shops were German. We had crossed the old frontier unawares, and +were presently in the charming town of Massevaux. It was the Feast +of the Assumption, and mass was just over when we reached the square +before the church. The streets were full of holiday people, +well-dressed, smiling, seemingly unconscious of the war. Down the +church-steps, guided by fond mammas, came little girls in white +dresses, with white wreaths in their hair, and carrying, in baskets +slung over their shoulders, woolly lambs or blue and white Virgins. +Groups of cavalry officers stood chatting with civilians in their +Sunday best, and through the windows of the Golden Eagle we saw +active preparations for a crowded mid-day dinner. It was all as +happy and parochial as a "Hansi" picture, and the fine old gabled +houses and clean cobblestone streets made the traditional setting +for an Alsacian holiday. +</P> + +<P> +At the Golden Eagle we laid in a store of provisions, and started +out across the mountains in the direction of Thann. The Vosges, at +this season, are in their short midsummer beauty, rustling with +streams, dripping with showers, balmy with the smell of firs and +braken, and of purple thyme on hot banks. We reached the top of a +ridge, and, hiding the motor behind a skirt of trees, went out into +the open to lunch on a sunny slope. Facing us across the valley was +a tall conical hill clothed with forest. That hill was +Hartmannswillerkopf, the centre of a long contest in which the +French have lately been victorious; and all about us stood other +crests and ridges from which German guns still look down on the +valley of Thann. +</P> + +<P> +Thann itself is at the valley-head, in a neck between hills; a +handsome old town, with the air of prosperous stability so oddly +characteristic of this tormented region. As we drove through the +main street the pall of war-sadness fell on us again, darkening the +light and chilling the summer air. Thann is raked by the German +lines, and its windows are mostly shuttered and its streets +deserted. One or two houses in the Cathedral square have been +gutted, but the somewhat over-pinnacled and statued cathedral which +is the pride of Thann is almost untouched, and when we entered it +vespers were being sung, and a few people—mostly in black—knelt in +the nave. +</P> + +<P> +No greater contrast could be imagined to the happy feast-day scene +we had left, a few miles off, at Massevaux; but Thann, in spite of +its empty streets, is not a deserted city. A vigorous life beats in +it, ready to break forth as soon as the German guns are silenced. +The French administration, working on the best of terms with the +population, are keeping up the civil activities of the town as the +Canons of the Cathedral are continuing the rites of the Church. Many +inhabitants still remain behind their closed shutters and dive down +into their cellars when the shells begin to crash; and the schools, +transferred to a neighbouring village, number over two thousand +pupils. We walked through the town, visited a vast catacomb of a +wine-cellar fitted up partly as an ambulance and partly as a shelter +for the cellarless, and saw the lamentable remains of the industrial +quarter along the river, which has been the special target of the +German guns. Thann has been industrially ruined, all its mills are +wrecked; but unlike the towns of the north it has had the good +fortune to preserve its outline, its civic personality, a face that +its children, when they come back, can recognize and take comfort +in. +</P> + +<P> +After our visit to the ruins, a diversion was suggested by the +amiable administrators of Thann who had guided our sight-seeing. +They were just off for a military tournament which the —th dragoons +were giving that afternoon in a neighboring valley, and we were +invited to go with them. +</P> + +<P> +The scene of the entertainment was a meadow enclosed in an +amphitheatre of rocks, with grassy ledges projecting from the cliff +like tiers of opera-boxes. These points of vantage were partly +occupied by interested spectators and partly by ruminating cattle; +on the lowest slope, the rank and fashion of the neighbourhood was +ranged on a semi-circle of chairs, and below, in the meadow, a +lively steeple-chase was going on. The riding was extremely pretty, +as French military riding always is. Few of the mounts were +thoroughbreds—the greater number, in fact, being local cart-horses +barely broken to the saddle—but their agility and dash did the +greater credit to their riders. The lancers, in particular, executed +an effective "musical ride" about a central pennon, to the immense +satisfaction of the fashionable public in the foreground and of the +gallery on the rocks. +</P> + +<P> +The audience was even more interesting than the artists. Chatting +with the ladies in the front row were the General of division and +his staff, groups of officers invited from the adjoining +Head-quarters, and most of the civil and military administrators of +the restored "Departement du Haut Rhin." All classes had turned out +in honour of the fete, and every one was in a holiday mood. +The people among whom we sat were mostly Alsatian property-owners, +many of them industrials of Thann. Some had been driven from their +homes, others had seen their mills destroyed, all had been living +for a year on the perilous edge of war, under the menace of +reprisals too hideous to picture; yet the humour prevailing was that +of any group of merry-makers in a peaceful garrison town. I have +seen nothing, in my wanderings along the front, more indicative of +the good-breeding of the French than the spirit of the ladies and +gentlemen who sat chatting with the officers on that grassy slope of +Alsace. +</P> + +<P> +The display of <I>haute ecole</I> was to be followed by an exhibition of +"transportation throughout the ages," headed by a Gaulish chariot +driven by a trooper with a long horsehair moustache and mistletoe +wreath, and ending in a motor of which the engine had been taken out +and replaced by a large placid white horse. Unluckily a heavy rain +began while this instructive "number" awaited its turn, and we had +to leave before Vercingetorix had led his warriors into the ring... +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4> +August 16th. +</H4> + +<P> +Up and up into the mountains. We started early, taking our way along +a narrow interminable valley that sloped up gradually toward the +east. The road was encumbered with a stream of hooded supply vans +drawn by mules, for we were on the way to one of the main positions +in the Vosges, and this train of provisions is kept up day and +night. Finally we reached a mountain village under fir-clad slopes, +with a cold stream rushing down from the hills. On one side of the +road was a rustic inn, on the other, among the firs, a chalet +occupied by the brigade Head-quarters. Everywhere about us swarmed +the little "chasseurs Alpins" in blue Tam o'Shanters and leather +gaiters. For a year we had been reading of these heroes of the +hills, and here we were among them, looking into their thin +weather-beaten faces and meeting the twinkle of their friendly eyes. +Very friendly they all were, and yet, for Frenchmen, inarticulate +and shy. All over the world, no doubt, the mountain silences breed +this kind of reserve, this shrinking from the glibness of the +valleys. Yet one had fancied that French fluency must soar as high +as Mont Blanc. +</P> + +<P> +Mules were brought, and we started on a long ride up the mountain. +The way led first over open ledges, with deep views into valleys +blue with distance, then through miles of forest, first of beech and +fir, and finally all of fir. Above the road the wooded slopes rose +interminably and here and there we came on tiers of mules, three or +four hundred together, stabled under the trees, in stalls dug out of +different levels of the slope. Near by were shelters for the men, +and perhaps at the next bend a village of "trappers' huts," as the +officers call the log-cabins they build in this region. These +colonies are always bustling with life: men busy cleaning their +arms, hauling material for new cabins, washing or mending their +clothes, or carrying down the mountain from the camp-kitchen the +two-handled pails full of steaming soup. The kitchen is always in +the most protected quarter of the camp, and generally at some +distance in the rear. Other soldiers, their job over, are lolling +about in groups, smoking, gossiping or writing home, the "Soldiers' +Letter-pad" propped on a patched blue knee, a scarred fist +laboriously driving the fountain pen received in hospital. Some are +leaning over the shoulder of a pal who has just received a Paris +paper, others chuckling together at the jokes of their own French +journal—the "Echo du Ravin," the "Journal des Poilus," or the +"Diable Bleu": little papers ground out in purplish script on +foolscap, and adorned with comic-sketches and a wealth of local +humour. +</P> + +<P> +Higher up, under a fir-belt, at the edge of a meadow, the officer +who rode ahead signed to us to dismount and scramble after him. We +plunged under the trees, into what seemed a thicker thicket, and +found it to be a thatch of branches woven to screen the muzzles of a +battery. The big guns were all about us, crouched in these sylvan +lairs like wild beasts waiting to spring; and near each gun hovered +its attendant gunner, proud, possessive, important as a bridegroom +with his bride. +</P> + +<P> +We climbed and climbed again, reaching at last a sun-and-wind-burnt +common which forms the top of one of the highest mountains in the +region. The forest was left below us and only a belt of dwarf firs +ran along the edge of the great grassy shoulder. We dismounted, the +mules were tethered among the trees, and our guide led us to an +insignificant looking stone in the grass. On one face of the stone +was cut the letter F., on the other was a D.; we stood on what, till +a year ago, was the boundary line between Republic and Empire. Since +then, in certain places, the line has been bent back a long way; but +where we stood we were still under German guns, and we had to creep +along in the shelter of the squat firs to reach the outlook on the +edge of the plateau. From there, under a sky of racing clouds, we +saw outstretched below us the Promised Land of Alsace. On one +horizon, far off in the plain, gleamed the roofs and spires of +Colmar, on the other rose the purplish heights beyond the Rhine. +Near by stood a ring of bare hills, those closest to us scarred by +ridges of upheaved earth, as if giant moles had been zigzagging over +them; and just under us, in a little green valley, lay the roofs of +a peaceful village. The earth-ridges and the peaceful village were +still German; but the French positions went down the mountain, +almost to the valley's edge; and one dark peak on the right was +already French. +</P> + +<P> +We stopped at a gap in the firs and walked to the brink of the +plateau. Just under us lay a rock-rimmed lake. More zig-zag +earthworks surmounted it on all sides, and on the nearest shore was +the branched roofing of another great mule-shelter. We were looking +down at the spot to which the night-caravans of the Chasseurs Alpins +descend to distribute supplies to the fighting line. +</P> + +<P> +"Who goes there? Attention! You're in sight of the lines!" a voice +called out from the firs, and our companion signed to us to move +back. We had been rather too conspicuously facing the German +batteries on the opposite slope, and our presence might have drawn +their fire on an artillery observation post installed near by. We +retreated hurriedly and unpacked our luncheon-basket on the more +sheltered side of the ridge. As we sat there in the grass, swept by +a great mountain breeze full of the scent of thyme and myrtle, while +the flutter of birds, the hum of insects, the still and busy life of +the hills went on all about us in the sunshine, the pressure of the +encircling line of death grew more intolerably real. It is not in +the mud and jokes and every-day activities of the trenches that one +most feels the damnable insanity of war; it is where it lurks like a +mythical monster in scenes to which the mind has always turned for +rest. +</P> + +<P> +We had not yet made the whole tour of the mountain-top; and after +luncheon we rode over to a point where a long narrow yoke connects +it with a spur projecting directly above the German lines. We left +our mules in hiding and walked along the yoke, a mere knife-edge of +rock rimmed with dwarf vegetation. Suddenly we heard an explosion +behind us: one of the batteries we had passed on the way up was +giving tongue. The German lines roared back and for twenty minutes +the exchange of invective thundered on. The firing was almost +incessant; it seemed as if a great arch of steel were being built up +above us in the crystal air. And we could follow each curve of sound +from its incipience to its final crash in the trenches. There were +four distinct phases: the sharp bang from the cannon, the long +furious howl overhead, the dispersed and spreading noise of the +shell's explosion, and then the roll of its reverberation from cliff +to cliff. This is what we heard as we crouched in the lee of the +firs: what we saw when we looked out between them was only an +occasional burst of white smoke and red flame from one hillside, and +on the opposite one, a minute later, a brown geyser of dust. +</P> + +<P> +Presently a deluge of rain descended on us, driving us back to our +mules, and down the nearest mountain-trail through rivers of mud. It +rained all the way: rained in such floods and cataracts that the +very rocks of the mountain seemed to dissolve and turn into mud. As +we slid down through it we met strings of Chasseurs Alpins coming +up, splashed to the waist with wet red clay, and leading pack-mules +so coated with it that they looked like studio models from which the +sculptor has just pulled off the dripping sheet. Lower down we came +on more "trapper" settlements, so saturated and reeking with wet +that they gave us a glimpse of what the winter months on the front +must be. No more cheerful polishing of fire-arms, hauling of +faggots, chatting and smoking in sociable groups: everybody had +crept under the doubtful shelter of branches and tarpaulins; the +whole army was back in its burrows. +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4> +August 17th. +</H4> + +<P> +Sunshine again for our arrival at Belfort. The invincible city lies +unpretentiously behind its green glacis and escutcheoned gates; but +the guardian Lion under the Citadel—well, the Lion is figuratively +as well as literally <I>a la hauteur.</I> With the sunset flush +on him, as he crouched aloft in his red lair below the fort, he +might almost have claimed kin with his mighty prototypes of the +Assarbanipal frieze. One wondered a little, seeing whose work he +was; but probably it is easier for an artist to symbolize an heroic +town than the abstract and elusive divinity who sheds light on the +world from New York harbour. +</P> + +<P> +From Belfort back into reconquered Alsace the road runs through a +gentle landscape of fields and orchards. We were bound for +Dannemarie, one of the towns of the plain, and a centre of the new +administration. It is the usual "gros bourg" of Alsace, with +comfortable old houses in espaliered gardens: dull, well-to-do, +contented; not in the least the kind of setting demanded by the +patriotism which has to be fed on pictures of little girls singing +the Marseillaise in Alsatian head-dresses and old men with operatic +waistcoats tottering forward to kiss the flag. What we saw at +Dannemarie was less conspicuous to the eye but much more nourishing +to the imagination. The military and civil administrators had the +kindness and patience to explain their work and show us something of +its results; and the visit left one with the impression of a slow +and quiet process of adaptation wisely planned and fruitfully +carried out. We <I>did</I>, in fact, hear the school-girls of Dannemarie +sing the Marseillaise—and the boys too—but, what was far more +interesting, we saw them studying under the direction of the +teachers who had always had them in charge, and found that +everywhere it had been the aim of the French officials to let the +routine of the village policy go on undisturbed. The German signs +remain over the shop-fronts except where the shop-keepers have +chosen to paint them out; as is happening more and more frequently. +When a functionary has to be replaced he is chosen from the same +town or the same district, and even the <I>personnel</I> of the civil and +military administration is mainly composed of officers and civilians +of Alsatian stock. The heads of both these departments, who +accompanied us on our rounds, could talk to the children and old +people in German as well as in their local dialect; and, as far as a +passing observer could discern, it seemed as though everything had +been done to reduce to a minimum the sense of strangeness and +friction which is inevitable in the transition from one rule to +another. The interesting point was that this exercise of tact and +tolerance seemed to proceed not from any pressure of expediency but +from a sympathetic understanding of the point of view of this people +of the border. I heard in Dannemarie not a syllable of lyrical +patriotism or post-card sentimentality, but only a kindly and +impartial estimate of facts as they were and must be dealt with. +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4> +August 18th. +</H4> + +<P> +Today again we started early for the mountains. Our road ran more to +the westward, through the heart of the Vosges, and up to a fold of +the hills near the borders of Lorraine. We stopped at a +Head-quarters where a young officer of dragoons was to join us, and +learned from him that we were to be allowed to visit some of the +first-line trenches which we had looked out on from a high-perched +observation post on our former visit to the Vosges. Violent fighting +was going on in that particular region, and after a climb of an hour +or two we had to leave the motor at a sheltered angle of the road +and strike across the hills on foot. Our path lay through the +forest, and every now and then we caught a glimpse of the high-road +running below us in full view of the German batteries. Presently we +reached a point where the road was screened by a thick growth of +trees behind which an observation post had been set up. We scrambled +down and looked through the peephole. Just below us lay a valley +with a village in its centre, and to the left and right of the +village were two hills, the one scored with French, the other with +German trenches. The village, at first sight, looked as normal as +those through which we had been passing; but a closer inspection +showed that its steeple was shattered and that some of its houses +were unroofed. Part of it was held by German, part by French troops. +The cemetery adjoining the church, and a quarry just under it, +belonged to the Germans; but a line of French trenches ran from the +farther side of the church up to the French batteries on the right +hand hill. Parallel with this line, but starting from the other side +of the village, was a hollow lane leading up to a single tree. This +lane was a German trench, protected by the guns of the left hand +hill; and between the two lay perhaps fifty yards of ground. All +this was close under us; and closer still was a slope of open ground +leading up to the village and traversed by a rough cart-track. Along +this track in the hot sunshine little French soldiers, the size of +tin toys, were scrambling up with bags and loads of faggots, their +ant-like activity as orderly and untroubled as if the two armies had +not lain trench to trench a few yards away. It was one of those +strange and contradictory scenes of war that bring home to the +bewildered looker-on the utter impossibility of picturing how the +thing <I>really happens.</I> +</P> + +<P> +While we stood watching we heard the sudden scream of a battery +close above us. The crest of the hill we were climbing was alive +with "Seventy-fives," and the piercing noise seemed to burst out at +our very backs. It was the most terrible war-shriek I had heard: a +kind of wolfish baying that called up an image of all the dogs of +war simultaneously tugging at their leashes. There is a dreadful +majesty in the sound of a distant cannonade; but these yelps and +hisses roused only thoughts of horror. And there, on the opposite +slope, the black and brown geysers were beginning to spout up from +the German trenches; and from the batteries above them came the puff +and roar of retaliation. Below us, along the cart-track, the little +French soldiers continued to scramble up peacefully to the +dilapidated village; and presently a group of officers of dragoons, +emerging from the wood, came down to welcome us to their +Head-quarters. +</P> + +<P> +We continued to climb through the forest, the cannonade still +whistling overhead, till we reached the most elaborate trapper +colony we had yet seen. Half underground, walled with logs, and +deeply roofed by sods tufted with ferns and moss, the cabins were +scattered under the trees and connected with each other by paths +bordered with white stones. Before the Colonel's cabin the soldiers +had made a banked-up flower-bed sown with annuals; and farther up +the slope stood a log chapel, a mere gable with a wooden altar under +it, all tapestried with ivy and holly. Near by was the chaplain's +subterranean dwelling. It was reached by a deep cutting with +ivy-covered sides, and ivy and fir-boughs masked the front. This +sylvan retreat had just been completed, and the officers, the +chaplain, and the soldiers loitering near by, were all equally eager +to have it seen and hear it praised. +</P> + +<P> +The commanding officer, having done the honours of the camp, led us +about a quarter of a mile down the hillside to an open cutting which +marked the beginning of the trenches. From the cutting we passed +into a long tortuous burrow walled and roofed with carefully fitted +logs. The earth floor was covered by a sort of wooden lattice. The +only light entering this tunnel was a faint ray from an occasional +narrow slit screened by branches; and beside each of these +peep-holes hung a shield-shaped metal shutter to be pushed over it +in case of emergency. +</P> + +<P> +The passage wound down the hill, almost doubling on itself, in order +to give a view of all the surrounding lines. Presently the roof +became much higher, and we saw on one side a curtained niche about +five feet above the floor. One of the officers pulled the curtain +back, and there, on a narrow shelf, a gun between his knees, sat a +dragoon, his eyes on a peep-hole. The curtain was hastily drawn +again behind his motionless figure, lest the faint light at his back +should betray him. We passed by several of these helmeted watchers, +and now and then we came to a deeper recess in which a mitrailleuse +squatted, its black nose thrust through a net of branches. Sometimes +the roof of the tunnel was so low that we had to bend nearly double; +and at intervals we came to heavy doors, made of logs and sheeted +with iron, which shut off one section from another. It is hard to +guess the distance one covers in creeping through an unlit passage +with different levels and countless turnings; but we must have +descended the hillside for at least a mile before we came out into a +half-ruined farmhouse. This building, which had kept nothing but its +outer walls and one or two partitions between the rooms, had been +transformed into an observation post. In each of its corners a +ladder led up to a little shelf on the level of what was once the +second story, and on the shelf sat a dragoon at his peep-hole. +Below, in the dilapidated rooms, the usual life of a camp was going +on. Some of the soldiers were playing cards at a kitchen table, +others mending their clothes, or writing letters or chuckling +together (not too loud) over a comic newspaper. It might have been a +scene anywhere along the second-line trenches but for the lowered +voices, the suddenness with which I was drawn back from a slit in +the wall through which I had incautiously peered, and the presence +of these helmeted watchers overhead. +</P> + +<P> +We plunged underground again and began to descend through another +darker and narrower tunnel. In the upper one there had been one or +two roofless stretches where one could straighten one's back and +breathe; but here we were in pitch blackness, and saved from +breaking our necks only by the gleam of the pocket-light which the +young lieutenant who led the party shed on our path. As he whisked +it up and down to warn us of sudden steps or sharp corners he +remarked that at night even this faint glimmer was forbidden, and +that it was a bad job going back and forth from the last outpost +till one had learned the turnings. +</P> + +<P> +The last outpost was a half-ruined farmhouse like the other. A +telephone connected it with Head-quarters and more dumb dragoons sat +motionless on their lofty shelves. The house was shut off from the +tunnel by an armoured door, and the orders were that in case of +attack that door should be barred from within and the access to the +tunnel defended to the death by the men in the outpost. We were on +the extreme verge of the defences, on a slope just above the village +over which we had heard the artillery roaring a few hours earlier. +The spot where we stood was raked on all sides by the enemy's lines, +and the nearest trenches were only a few yards away. But of all this +nothing was really perceptible or comprehensible to me. As far as my +own observation went, we might have been a hundred miles from the +valley we had looked down on, where the French soldiers were walking +peacefully up the cart-track in the sunshine. I only knew that we +had come out of a black labyrinth into a gutted house among +fruit-trees, where soldiers were lounging and smoking, and people +whispered as they do about a death-bed. Over a break in the walls I +saw another gutted farmhouse close by in another orchard: it was an +enemy outpost, and silent watchers in helmets of another shape sat +there watching on the same high shelves. But all this was infinitely +less real and terrible than the cannonade above the disputed +village. The artillery had ceased and the air was full of summer +murmurs. Close by on a sheltered ledge I saw a patch of vineyard +with dewy cobwebs hanging to the vines. I could not understand where +we were, or what it was all about, or why a shell from the enemy +outpost did not suddenly annihilate us. And then, little by little, +there came over me the sense of that mute reciprocal watching from +trench to trench: the interlocked stare of innumerable pairs of +eyes, stretching on, mile after mile, along the whole sleepless line +from Dunkerque to Belfort. +</P> + +<P> +My last vision of the French front which I had traveled from end to +end was this picture of a shelled house where a few men, who sat +smoking and playing cards in the sunshine, had orders to hold out to +the death rather than let their fraction of that front be broken. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="tone"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE TONE OF FRANCE +</H3> + +<P> +Nobody now asks the question that so often, at the beginning of the +war, came to me from the other side of the world: "<I>What is France +like?"</I> Every one knows what France has proved to be like: from +being a difficult problem she has long since become a luminous +instance. +</P> + +<P> +Nevertheless, to those on whom that illumination has shone only from +far off, there may still be something to learn about its component +elements; for it has come to consist of many separate rays, and the +weary strain of the last year has been the spectroscope to decompose +them. From the very beginning, when one felt the effulgence as the +mere pale brightness before dawn, the attempt to define it was +irresistible. "There <I>is</I> a tone—" the tingling sense of it was in +the air from the first days, the first hours—"but what does it +consist in? And just how is one aware of it?" In those days the +answer was comparatively easy. The tone of France after the +declaration of war was the white glow of dedication: a great +nation's collective impulse (since there is no English equivalent +for that winged word, <I>elan</I> ) to resist destruction. But at that +time no one knew what the resistance was to cost, how long it would +have to last, what sacrifices, material and moral, it would +necessitate. And for the moment baser sentiments were silenced: +greed, self-interest, pusillanimity seemed to have been purged from +the race. The great sitting of the Chamber, that almost religious +celebration of defensive union, really expressed the opinion of the +whole people. It is fairly easy to soar to the empyrean when one is +carried on the wings of such an impulse, and when one does not know +how long one is to be kept suspended at the breathing-limit. +</P> + +<P> +But there is a term to the flight of the most soaring <I>elan</I>. It is +likely, after a while, to come back broken-winged and resign itself +to barn-yard bounds. National judgments cannot remain for long above +individual feelings; and you cannot get a national "tone" out of +anything less than a whole nation. The really interesting thing, +therefore, was to see, as the war went on, and grew into a calamity +unheard of in human annals, how the French spirit would meet it, and +what virtues extract from it. +</P> + +<P> +The war has been a calamity unheard of; but France has never been +afraid of the unheard of. No race has ever yet so audaciously +dispensed with old precedents; as none has ever so revered their +relics. It is a great strength to be able to walk without the +support of analogies; and France has always shown that strength in +times of crisis. The absorbing question, as the war went on, was to +discover how far down into the people this intellectual audacity +penetrated, how instinctive it had become, and how it would endure +the strain of prolonged inaction. +</P> + +<P> +There was never much doubt about the army. When a warlike race has +an invader on its soil, the men holding back the invader can never +be said to be inactive. But behind the army were the waiting +millions to whom that long motionless line in the trenches might +gradually have become a mere condition of thought, an accepted +limitation to all sorts of activities and pleasures. The danger was +that such a war—static, dogged, uneventful—might gradually cramp +instead of enlarging the mood of the lookers-on. Conscription, of +course, was there to minimize this danger. Every one was sharing +alike in the glory and the woe. But the glory was not of a kind to +penetrate or dazzle. It requires more imagination to see the halo +around tenacity than around dash; and the French still cling to the +view that they are, so to speak, the patentees and proprietors of +dash, and much less at home with his dull drudge of a partner. So +there was reason to fear, in the long run, a gradual but +irresistible disintegration, not of public opinion, but of something +subtler and more fundamental: public sentiment. It was possible that +civilian France, while collectively seeming to remain at the same +height, might individually deteriorate and diminish in its attitude +toward the war. +</P> + +<P> +The French would not be human, and therefore would not be +interesting, if one had not perceived in them occasional symptoms of +such a peril. There has not been a Frenchman or a Frenchwoman—save +a few harmless and perhaps nervous theorizers—who has wavered about +the military policy of the country; but there have naturally been +some who have found it less easy than they could have foreseen to +live up to the sacrifices it has necessitated. Of course there have +been such people: one would have had to postulate them if they had +not come within one's experience. There have been some to whom it +was harder than they imagined to give up a certain way of living, or +a certain kind of breakfast-roll; though the French, being +fundamentally temperate, are far less the slaves of the luxuries +they have invented than are the other races who have adopted these +luxuries. +</P> + +<P> +There have been many more who found the sacrifice of personal +happiness—of all that made life livable, or one's country worth +fighting for—infinitely harder than the most apprehensive +imagination could have pictured. There have been mothers and widows +for whom a single grave, or the appearance of one name on the +missing list, has turned the whole conflict into an idiot's tale. +There have been many such; but there have apparently not been enough +to deflect by a hair's breadth the subtle current of public +sentiment; unless it is truer, as it is infinitely more inspiring, +to suppose that, of this company of blinded baffled sufferers, +almost all have had the strength to hide their despair and to say of +the great national effort which has lost most of its meaning to +them: "Though it slay me, yet will I trust in it." That is probably +the finest triumph of the tone of France: that its myriad fiery +currents flow from so many hearts made insensible by suffering, that +so many dead hands feed its undying lamp. +</P> + +<P> +This does not in the least imply that resignation is the prevailing +note in the tone of France. The attitude of the French people, after +fourteen months of trial, is not one of submission to unparalleled +calamity. It is one of exaltation, energy, the hot resolve to +dominate the disaster. In all classes the feeling is the same: every +word and every act is based on the resolute ignoring of any +alternative to victory. The French people no more think of a +compromise than people would think of facing a flood or an +earthquake with a white flag. +</P> + +<P> +Two questions are likely to be put to any observer of the struggle +who risks such assertions. What, one may be asked, are the proofs of +this national tone? And what conditions and qualities seem to +minister to it? +</P> + +<P> +The proofs, now that "the tumult and the shouting dies," and +civilian life has dropped back into something like its usual +routine, are naturally less definable than at the outset. One of the +most evident is the spirit in which all kinds of privations are +accepted. No one who has come in contact with the work-people and +small shop-keepers of Paris in the last year can fail to be struck +by the extreme dignity and grace with which doing without things is +practised. The Frenchwoman leaning in the door of her empty +<I>boutique</I> still wears the smile with which she used to calm the +impatience of crowding shoppers. The seam-stress living on the +meagre pay of a charity work-room gives her day's sewing as +faithfully as if she were working for full wages in a fashionable +<I>atelier</I>, and never tries, by the least hint of private +difficulties, to extract additional help. The habitual cheerfulness +of the Parisian workwoman rises, in moments of sorrow, to the finest +fortitude. In a work-room where many women have been employed since +the beginning of the war, a young girl of sixteen heard late one +afternoon that her only brother had been killed. She had a moment of +desperate distress; but there was a big family to be helped by her +small earnings, and the next morning punctually she was back at +work. In this same work-room the women have one half-holiday in the +week, without reduction of pay; yet if an order has to be rushed +through for a hospital they give up that one afternoon as gaily as +if they were doing it for their pleasure. But if any one who has +lived for the last year among the workers and small tradesmen of +Paris should begin to cite instances of endurance, self-denial and +secret charity, the list would have no end. The essential of it all +is the spirit in which these acts are accomplished. +</P> + +<P> +The second question: What are the conditions and qualities that have +produced such results? is less easy to answer. The door is so +largely open to conjecture that every explanation must depend +largely on the answerer's personal bias. But one thing is certain. +France has not achieved her present tone by the sacrifice of any of +her national traits, but rather by their extreme keying up; +therefore the surest way of finding a clue to that tone is to try to +single out whatever distinctively "French" characteristics—or those +that appear such to the envious alien—have a direct bearing on the +present attitude of France. Which (one must ask) of all their +multiple gifts most help the French today to be what they are in +just the way they are? +</P> + +<P> +<I>Intelligence!</I> is the first and instantaneous answer. Many French +people seem unaware of this. They are sincerely persuaded that the +curbing of their critical activity has been one of the most +important and useful results of the war. One is told that, in a +spirit of patriotism, this fault-finding people has learned not to +find fault. Nothing could be more untrue. The French, when they have +a grievance, do not air it in the <I>Times:</I> their forum is the cafe +and not the newspaper. But in the cafe they are talking as freely as +ever, discriminating as keenly and judging as passionately. The +difference is that the very exercise of their intelligence on a +problem larger and more difficult than any they have hitherto faced +has freed them from the dominion of most of the prejudices, +catch-words and conventions that directed opinion before the war. +Then their intelligence ran in fixed channels; now it has overflowed +its banks. +</P> + +<P> +This release has produced an immediate readjusting of all the +elements of national life. In great trials a race is tested by its +values; and the war has shown the world what are the real values of +France. Never for an instant has this people, so expert in the great +art of living, imagined that life consisted in being alive. +Enamoured of pleasure and beauty, dwelling freely and frankly in the +present, they have yet kept their sense of larger meanings, have +understood life to be made up of many things past and to come, of +renunciation as well as satisfaction, of traditions as well as +experiments, of dying as much as of living. Never have they +considered life as a thing to be cherished in itself, apart from its +reactions and its relations. +</P> + +<P> +Intelligence first, then, has helped France to be what she is; and +next, perhaps, one of its corollaries, <I>expression</I>. The French are +the first to laugh at themselves for running to words: they seem to +regard their gift for expression as a weakness, a possible deterrent +to action. The last year has not confirmed that view. It has rather +shown that eloquence is a supplementary weapon. By "eloquence" I +naturally do not mean public speaking, nor yet the rhetorical +writing too often associated with the word. Rhetoric is the +dressing-up of conventional sentiment, eloquence the fearless +expression of real emotion. And this gift of the fearless expression +of emotion—fearless, that is, of ridicule, or of indifference in +the hearer—has been an inestimable strength to France. It is a sign +of the high average of French intelligence that feeling well-worded +can stir and uplift it; that "words" are not half shamefacedly +regarded as something separate from, and extraneous to, emotion, or +even as a mere vent for it, but as actually animating and forming +it. Every additional faculty for exteriorizing states of feeling, +giving them a face and a language, is a moral as well as an artistic +asset, and Goethe was never wiser than when he wrote: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + "A god gave me the voice to speak my pain." +</P> + +<P> +It is not too much to say that the French are at this moment drawing +a part of their national strength from their language. The piety +with which they have cherished and cultivated it has made it a +precious instrument in their hands. It can say so beautifully what +they feel that they find strength and renovation in using it; and +the word once uttered is passed on, and carries the same help to +others. Countless instances of such happy expression could be cited +by any one who has lived the last year in France. On the bodies of +young soldiers have been found letters of farewell to their parents +that made one think of some heroic Elizabethan verse; and the +mothers robbed of these sons have sent them an answering cry of +courage. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you," such a mourner wrote me the other day, "for having +understood the cruelty of our fate, and having pitied us. Thank you +also for having exalted the pride that is mingled with our +unutterable sorrow." Simply that, and no more; but she might have +been speaking for all the mothers of France. +</P> + +<P> +When the eloquent expression of feeling does not issue in action—or +at least in a state of mind equivalent to action—it sinks to the +level of rhetoric; but in France at this moment expression and +conduct supplement and reflect each other. And this brings me to the +other great attribute which goes to making up the tone of France: +the quality of courage. It is not unintentionally that it comes last +on my list. French courage is courage rationalized, courage thought +out, and found necessary to some special end; it is, as much as any +other quality of the French temperament, the result of French +intelligence. +</P> + +<P> +No people so sensitive to beauty, so penetrated with a passionate +interest in life, so endowed with the power to express and +immortalize that interest, can ever really enjoy destruction for its +own sake. The French hate "militarism." It is stupid, inartistic, +unimaginative and enslaving; there could not be four better French +reasons for detesting it. Nor have the French ever enjoyed the +savage forms of sport which stimulate the blood of more apathetic or +more brutal races. Neither prize-fighting nor bull-fighting is of +the soil in France, and Frenchmen do not settle their private +differences impromptu with their fists: they do it, logically and +with deliberation, on the duelling-ground. But when a national +danger threatens, they instantly become what they proudly and justly +call themselves—"a warlike nation"—and apply to the business in +hand the ardour, the imagination, the perseverance that have made +them for centuries the great creative force of civilization. Every +French soldier knows why he is fighting, and why, at this moment, +physical courage is the first quality demanded of him; every +Frenchwoman knows why war is being waged, and why her moral courage +is needed to supplement the soldier's contempt of death. +</P> + +<P> +The women of France are supplying this moral courage in act as well +as in word. Frenchwomen, as a rule, are perhaps less instinctively +"courageous," in the elementary sense, than their Anglo-Saxon +sisters. They are afraid of more things, and are less ashamed of +showing their fear. The French mother coddles her children, the boys +as well as the girls: when they tumble and bark their knees they are +expected to cry, and not taught to control themselves as English and +American children are. I have seen big French boys bawling over a +cut or a bruise that an Anglo-Saxon girl of the same age would have +felt compelled to bear without a tear. Frenchwomen are timid for +themselves as well as for their children. They are afraid of the +unexpected, the unknown, the experimental. It is not part of the +Frenchwoman's training to pretend to have physical courage. She has +not the advantage of our discipline in the hypocrisies of "good +form" when she is called on to be brave, she must draw her courage +from her brains. She must first be convinced of the necessity of +heroism; after that she is fit to go bridle to bridle with Jeanne +d'Arc. +</P> + +<P> +The same display of reasoned courage is visible in the hasty +adaptation of the Frenchwoman to all kinds of uncongenial jobs. +Almost every kind of service she has been called to render since the +war began has been fundamentally uncongenial. A French doctor once +remarked to me that Frenchwomen never make really good sick-nurses +except when they are nursing their own people. They are too +personal, too emotional, and too much interested in more interesting +things, to take to the fussy details of good nursing, except when it +can help some one they care for. Even then, as a rule, they are not +systematic or tidy; but they make up for these deficiencies by +inexhaustible willingness and sympathy. And it has been easy for +them to become good war-nurses, because every Frenchwoman who nurses +a French soldier feels that she is caring for her kin. The French +war-nurse sometimes mislays an instrument or forgets to sterilize a +dressing; but she almost always finds the consoling word to say and +the right tone to take with her wounded soldiers. That profound +solidarity which is one of the results of conscription flowers, in +war-time, in an exquisite and impartial devotion. +</P> + +<P> +This, then, is what "France is like." The whole civilian part of the +nation seems merged in one symbolic figure, carrying help and hope +to the fighters or passionately bent above the wounded. The +devotion, the self-denial, seem instinctive; but they are really +based on a reasoned knowledge of the situation and on an unflinching +estimate of values. All France knows today that real "life" consists +in the things that make it worth living, and that these things, for +France, depend on the free expression of her national genius. If +France perishes as an intellectual light and as a moral force every +Frenchman perishes with her; and the only death that Frenchmen fear +is not death in the trenches but death by the extinction of their +national ideal. It is against this death that the whole nation is +fighting; and it is the reasoned recognition of their peril which, +at this moment, is making the most intelligent people in the world +the most sublime. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="finis"> +THE END +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Fighting France, by Edith Wharton + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FIGHTING FRANCE *** + +***** This file should be named 4550-h.htm or 4550-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/4/5/5/4550/ + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Fighting France + From Dunkerque to Belport + +Author: Edith Wharton + +Posting Date: August 8, 2009 [EBook #4550] +Release Date: October, 2003 +First Posted: February 8, 2002 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FIGHTING FRANCE *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo. HTML version by Al Haines. + + + + + + + + + +FIGHTING FRANCE + +FROM DUNKERQUE TO BELPORT + + +BY EDITH WHARTON + + +NEW YORK: MCMXV + + + + + + +CONTENTS + + + THE LOOK OF PARIS + IN ARGONNE + IN LORRAINE AND THE VOSGES + IN THE NORTH + IN ALSACE + THE TONE OF FRANCE + + + + + +THE LOOK OF PARIS + +(AUGUST, 1914--FEBUARY, 1915) + + +I + +AUGUST + + +On the 30th of July, 1914, motoring north from Poitiers, we had +lunched somewhere by the roadside under apple-trees on the edge of a +field. Other fields stretched away on our right and left to a border +of woodland and a village steeple. All around was noonday quiet, and +the sober disciplined landscape which the traveller's memory is apt +to evoke as distinctively French. Sometimes, even to accustomed +eyes, these ruled-off fields and compact grey villages seem merely +flat and tame; at other moments the sensitive imagination sees in +every thrifty sod and even furrow the ceaseless vigilant attachment +of generations faithful to the soil. The particular bit of landscape +before us spoke in all its lines of that attachment. The air seemed +full of the long murmur of human effort, the rhythm of oft-repeated +tasks, the serenity of the scene smiled away the war rumours which +had hung on us since morning. + +All day the sky had been banked with thunder-clouds, but by the time +we reached Chartres, toward four o'clock, they had rolled away under +the horizon, and the town was so saturated with sunlight that to +pass into the cathedral was like entering the dense obscurity of a +church in Spain. At first all detail was imperceptible; we were in a +hollow night. Then, as the shadows gradually thinned and gathered +themselves up into pier and vault and ribbing, there burst out of +them great sheets and showers of colour. Framed by such depths of +darkness, and steeped in a blaze of mid-summer sun, the familiar +windows seemed singularly remote and yet overpoweringly vivid. Now +they widened into dark-shored pools splashed with sunset, now +glittered and menaced like the shields of fighting angels. Some were +cataracts of sapphires, others roses dropped from a saint's tunic, +others great carven platters strewn with heavenly regalia, others +the sails of galleons bound for the Purple Islands; and in the +western wall the scattered fires of the rose-window hung like a +constellation in an African night. When one dropped one's eyes form +these ethereal harmonies, the dark masses of masonry below them, all +veiled and muffled in a mist pricked by a few altar lights, seemed +to symbolize the life on earth, with its shadows, its heavy +distances and its little islands of illusion. All that a great +cathedral can be, all the meanings it can express, all the +tranquilizing power it can breathe upon the soul, all the richness +of detail it can fuse into a large utterance of strength and beauty, +the cathedral of Chartres gave us in that perfect hour. + +It was sunset when we reached the gates of Paris. Under the heights +of St. Cloud and Suresnes the reaches of the Seine trembled with the +blue-pink lustre of an early Monet. The Bois lay about us in the +stillness of a holiday evening, and the lawns of Bagatelle were as +fresh as June. Below the Arc de Triomphe, the Champs Elysees sloped +downward in a sun-powdered haze to the mist of fountains and the +ethereal obelisk; and the currents of summer life ebbed and flowed +with a normal beat under the trees of the radiating avenues. The +great city, so made for peace and art and all humanest graces, +seemed to lie by her river-side like a princess guarded by the +watchful giant of the Eiffel Tower. + +The next day the air was thundery with rumours. Nobody believed +them, everybody repeated them. War? Of course there couldn't be war! +The Cabinets, like naughty children, were again dangling their feet +over the edge; but the whole incalculable weight of things-as-they-were, +of the daily necessary business of living, continued calmly and +convincingly to assert itself against the bandying of diplomatic +words. Paris went on steadily about her mid-summer business of +feeding, dressing, and amusing the great army of tourists who were +the only invaders she had seen for nearly half a century. + +All the while, every one knew that other work was going on also. The +whole fabric of the country's seemingly undisturbed routine was +threaded with noiseless invisible currents of preparation, the sense +of them was in the calm air as the sense of changing weather is in +the balminess of a perfect afternoon. Paris counted the minutes till +the evening papers came. + +They said little or nothing except what every one was already +declaring all over the country. "We don't want war--_mais it faut +que cela finisse!_" "This kind of thing has got to stop": that was +the only phase one heard. If diplomacy could still arrest the war, +so much the better: no one in France wanted it. All who spent the +first days of August in Paris will testify to the agreement of +feeling on that point. But if war had to come, the country, and +every heart in it, was ready. + +At the dressmaker's, the next morning, the tired fitters were +preparing to leave for their usual holiday. They looked pale and +anxious--decidedly, there was a new weight of apprehension in the +air. And in the rue Royale, at the corner of the Place de la +Concorde, a few people had stopped to look at a little strip of +white paper against the wall of the Ministere de la Marine. "General +mobilization" they read--and an armed nation knows what that means. +But the group about the paper was small and quiet. Passers by read +the notice and went on. There were no cheers, no gesticulations: the +dramatic sense of the race had already told them that the event was +too great to be dramatized. Like a monstrous landslide it had fallen +across the path of an orderly laborious nation, disrupting its +routine, annihilating its industries, rending families apart, and +burying under a heap of senseless ruin the patiently and painfully +wrought machinery of civilization... + +That evening, in a restaurant of the rue Royale, we sat at a table +in one of the open windows, abreast with the street, and saw the +strange new crowds stream by. In an instant we were being shown what +mobilization was--a huge break in the normal flow of traffic, like +the sudden rupture of a dyke. The street was flooded by the torrent +of people sweeping past us to the various railway stations. All were +on foot, and carrying their luggage; for since dawn every cab and +taxi and motor--omnibus had disappeared. The War Office had thrown +out its drag-net and caught them all in. The crowd that passed our +window was chiefly composed of conscripts, the _mobilisables_ of the +first day, who were on the way to the station accompanied by their +families and friends; but among them were little clusters of +bewildered tourists, labouring along with bags and bundles, and +watching their luggage pushed before them on hand-carts--puzzled +inarticulate waifs caught in the cross-tides racing to a maelstrom. + +In the restaurant, the befrogged and red-coated band poured out +patriotic music, and the intervals between the courses that so few +waiters were left to serve were broken by the ever-recurring +obligation to stand up for the Marseillaise, to stand up for God +Save the King, to stand up for the Russian National Anthem, to stand +up again for the Marseillaise. "_Et dire que ce sont des Hongrois +qui jouent tout cela!"_ a humourist remarked from the pavement. + +As the evening wore on and the crowd about our window thickened, the +loiterers outside began to join in the war-songs. "_Allons, debout!_ +"--and the loyal round begins again. "La chanson du depart" is a +frequent demand; and the chorus of spectators chimes in roundly. A +sort of quiet humour was the note of the street. Down the rue +Royale, toward the Madeleine, the bands of other restaurants were +attracting other throngs, and martial refrains were strung along the +Boulevard like its garlands of arc-lights. It was a night of singing +and acclamations, not boisterous, but gallant and determined. It was +Paris _badauderie_ at its best. + +Meanwhile, beyond the fringe of idlers the steady stream of +conscripts still poured along. Wives and families trudged beside +them, carrying all kinds of odd improvised bags and bundles. The +impression disengaging itself from all this superficial confusion +was that of a cheerful steadiness of spirit. The faces ceaselessly +streaming by were serious but not sad; nor was there any air of +bewilderment--the stare of driven cattle. All these lads and young +men seemed to know what they were about and why they were about it. +The youngest of them looked suddenly grown up and responsible; they +understood their stake in the job, and accepted it. + +The next day the army of midsummer travel was immobilized to let the +other army move. No more wild rushes to the station, no more bribing +of concierges, vain quests for invisible cabs, haggard hours of +waiting in the queue at Cook's. No train stirred except to carry +soldiers, and the civilians who had not bribed and jammed their way +into a cranny of the thronged carriages leaving the first night +could only creep back through the hot streets to their hotel and +wait. Back they went, disappointed yet half-relieved, to the +resounding emptiness of porterless halls, waiterless restaurants, +motionless lifts: to the queer disjointed life of fashionable hotels +suddenly reduced to the intimacies and make-shift of a Latin +Quarter _pension._ Meanwhile it was strange to watch the gradual +paralysis of the city. As the motors, taxis, cabs and vans had +vanished from the streets, so the lively little steamers had left +the Seine. The canal-boats too were gone, or lay motionless: loading +and unloading had ceased. Every great architectural opening framed +an emptiness; all the endless avenues stretched away to desert +distances. In the parks and gardens no one raked the paths or +trimmed the borders. The fountains slept in their basins, the +worried sparrows fluttered unfed, and vague dogs, shaken out of +their daily habits, roamed unquietly, looking for familiar eyes. +Paris, so intensely conscious yet so strangely entranced, seemed to +have had _curare_ injected into all her veins. + +The next day--the 2nd of August--from the terrace of the Hotel +de Crillon one looked down on a first faint stir of returning life. +Now and then a taxi-cab or a private motor crossed the Place de la +Concorde, carrying soldiers to the stations. Other conscripts, in +detachments, tramped by on foot with bags and banners. One +detachment stopped before the black-veiled statue of Strasbourg and +laid a garland at her feet. In ordinary times this demonstration +would at once have attracted a crowd; but at the very moment when it +might have been expected to provoke a patriotic outburst it excited +no more attention than if one of the soldiers had turned aside to +give a penny to a beggar. The people crossing the square did not +even stop to look. The meaning of this apparent indifference was +obvious. When an armed nation mobilizes, everybody is busy, and busy +in a definite and pressing way. It is not only the fighters that +mobilize: those who stay behind must do the same. For each French +household, for each individual man or woman in France, war means a +complete reorganization of life. The detachment of conscripts, +unnoticed, paid their tribute to the Cause and passed on... + +Looked back on from these sterner months those early days in Paris, +in their setting of grave architecture and summer skies, wear the +light of the ideal and the abstract. The sudden flaming up of +national life, the abeyance of every small and mean preoccupation, +cleared the moral air as the streets had been cleared, and made the +spectator feel as though he were reading a great poem on War rather +than facing its realities. + +Something of this sense of exaltation seemed to penetrate the +throngs who streamed up and down the Boulevards till late into the +night. All wheeled traffic had ceased, except that of the rare +taxi-cabs impressed to carry conscripts to the stations; and the +middle of the Boulevards was as thronged with foot-passengers as an +Italian market-place on a Sunday morning. The vast tide swayed up +and down at a slow pace, breaking now and then to make room for one +of the volunteer "legions" which were forming at every corner: +Italian, Roumanian, South American, North American, each headed by +its national flag and hailed with cheering as it passed. But even +the cheers were sober: Paris was not to be shaken out of her +self-imposed serenity. One felt something nobly conscious and +voluntary in the mood of this quiet multitude. Yet it was a mixed +throng, made up of every class, from the scum of the Exterior +Boulevards to the cream of the fashionable restaurants. These +people, only two days ago, had been leading a thousand different +lives, in indifference or in antagonism to each other, as alien as +enemies across a frontier: now workers and idlers, thieves, beggars, +saints, poets, drabs and sharpers, genuine people and showy shams, +were all bumping up against each other in an instinctive community +of emotion. The "people," luckily, predominated; the faces of +workers look best in such a crowd, and there were thousands of them, +each illuminated and singled out by its magnesium-flash of passion. + +I remember especially the steady-browed faces of the women; and also +the small but significant fact that every one of them had remembered +to bring her dog. The biggest of these amiable companions had to +take their chance of seeing what they could through the forest of +human legs; but every one that was portable was snugly lodged in the +bend of an elbow, and from this safe perch scores and scores of +small serious muzzles, blunt or sharp, smooth or woolly, brown or +grey or white or black or brindled, looked out on the scene with the +quiet awareness of the Paris dog. It was certainly a good sign that +they had not been forgotten that night. + + +II + +WE had been shown, impressively, what it was to live through a +mobilization; now we were to learn that mobilization is only one of +the concomitants of martial law, and that martial law is not +comfortable to live under--at least till one gets used to it. + +At first its main purpose, to the neutral civilian, seemed certainly +to be the wayward pleasure of complicating his life; and in that +line it excelled in the last refinements of ingenuity. Instructions +began to shower on us after the lull of the first days: instructions +as to what to do, and what not to do, in order to make our presence +tolerable and our persons secure. In the first place, foreigners +could not remain in France without satisfying the authorities as to +their nationality and antecedents; and to do this necessitated +repeated ineffective visits to chanceries, consulates and police +stations, each too densely thronged with flustered applicants to +permit the entrance of one more. Between these vain pilgrimages, the +traveller impatient to leave had to toil on foot to distant railway +stations, from which he returned baffled by vague answers and +disheartened by the declaration that tickets, when achievable, must +also be _vises_ by the police. There was a moment when it seemed +that ones inmost thoughts had to have that unobtainable _visa_--to +obtain which, more fruitless hours must be lived on grimy stairways +between perspiring layers of fellow-aliens. Meanwhile one's money +was probable running short, and one must cable or telegraph for +more. Ah--but cables and telegrams must be _vises_ too--and even +when they were, one got no guarantee that they would be sent! Then +one could not use code addresses, and the ridiculous number of words +contained in a New York address seemed to multiply as the francs in +one's pockets diminished. And when the cable was finally dispatched +it was either lost on the way, or reached its destination only to +call forth, after anxious days, the disheartening response: +"Impossible at present. Making every effort." It is fair to add +that, tedious and even irritating as many of these transactions +were, they were greatly eased by the sudden uniform good-nature of +the French functionary, who, for the first time, probably, in the +long tradition of his line, broke through its fundamental rule and +was kind. + +Luckily, too, these incessant comings and goings involved much +walking of the beautiful idle summer streets, which grew idler and +more beautiful each day. Never had such blue-grey softness of +afternoon brooded over Paris, such sunsets turned the heights of the +Trocadero into Dido's Carthage, never, above all, so rich a moon +ripened through such perfect evenings. The Seine itself had no small +share in this mysterious increase of the city's beauty. Released +from all traffic, its hurried ripples smoothed themselves into long +silken reaches in which quays and monuments at last saw their +unbroken images. At night the fire-fly lights of the boats had +vanished, and the reflections of the street lamps were lengthened +into streamers of red and gold and purple that slept on the calm +current like fluted water-weeds. Then the moon rose and took +possession of the city, purifying it of all accidents, calming and +enlarging it and giving it back its ideal lines of strength and +repose. There was something strangely moving in this new Paris of +the August evenings, so exposed yet so serene, as though her very +beauty shielded her. + +So, gradually, we fell into the habit of living under martial law. +After the first days of flustered adjustment the personal +inconveniences were so few that one felt almost ashamed of their not +being more, of not being called on to contribute some greater +sacrifice of comfort to the Cause. Within the first week over two +thirds of the shops had closed--the greater number bearing on their +shuttered windows the notice "Pour cause de mobilisation," which +showed that the "patron" and staff were at the front. But enough +remained open to satisfy every ordinary want, and the closing of the +others served to prove how much one could do without. Provisions +were as cheap and plentiful as ever, though for a while it was +easier to buy food than to have it cooked. The restaurants were +closing rapidly, and one often had to wander a long way for a meal, +and wait a longer time to get it. A few hotels still carried on a +halting life, galvanized by an occasional inrush of travel from +Belgium and Germany; but most of them had closed or were being +hastily transformed into hospitals. + +The signs over these hotel doors first disturbed the dreaming +harmony of Paris. In a night, as it seemed, the whole city was hung +with Red Crosses. Every other building showed the red and white band +across its front, with "Ouvroir" or "Hopital" beneath; there +was something sinister in these preparations for horrors in which +one could not yet believe, in the making of bandages for limbs yet +sound and whole, the spreading of pillows for heads yet carried +high. But insist as they would on the woe to come, these warning +signs did not deeply stir the trance of Paris. The first days of the +war were full of a kind of unrealizing confidence, not boastful or +fatuous, yet as different as possible from the clear-headed tenacity +of purpose that the experience of the next few months was to +develop. It is hard to evoke, without seeming to exaggerate it, that +the mood of early August: the assurance, the balance, the kind of +smiling fatalism with which Paris moved to her task. It is not +impossible that the beauty of the season and the silence of the city +may have helped to produce this mood. War, the shrieking fury, had +announced herself by a great wave of stillness. Never was desert +hush more complete: the silence of a street is always so much deeper +than the silence of wood or field. + +The heaviness of the August air intensified this impression of +suspended life. The days were dumb enough; but at night the hush +became acute. In the quarter I inhabit, always deserted in summer, +the shuttered streets were mute as catacombs, and the faintest +pin-prick of noise seemed to tear a rent in a black pall of silence. +I could hear the tired tap of a lame hoof half a mile away, and the +tread of the policeman guarding the Embassy across the street beat +against the pavement like a series of detonations. Even the +variegated noises of the city's waking-up had ceased. If any +sweepers, scavengers or rag-pickers still plied their trades they +did it as secretly as ghosts. I remember one morning being roused +out of a deep sleep by a sudden explosion of noise in my room. I sat +up with a start, and found I had been waked by a low-voiced exchange +of "Bonjours" in the street... + +Another fact that kept the reality of war from Paris was the curious +absence of troops in the streets. After the first rush of conscripts +hurrying to their military bases it might have been imagined that +the reign of peace had set in. While smaller cities were swarming +with soldiers no glitter of arms was reflected in the empty avenues +of the capital, no military music sounded through them. Paris +scorned all show of war, and fed the patriotism of her children on +the mere sight of her beauty. It was enough. + +Even when the news of the first ephemeral successes in Alsace began +to come in, the Parisians did not swerve from their even gait. The +newsboys did all the shouting--and even theirs was presently +silenced by decree. It seemed as though it had been unanimously, +instinctively decided that the Paris of 1914 should in no respect +resemble the Paris of 1870, and as though this resolution had passed +at birth into the blood of millions born since that fatal date, and +ignorant of its bitter lesson. The unanimity of self-restraint was +the notable characteristic of this people suddenly plunged into an +unsought and unexpected war. At first their steadiness of spirit +might have passed for the bewilderment of a generation born and bred +in peace, which did not yet understand what war implied. But it is +precisely on such a mood that easy triumphs might have been supposed +to have the most disturbing effect. It was the crowd in the street +that shouted "A Berlin!" in 1870; now the crowd in the street +continued to mind its own business, in spite of showers of extras +and too-sanguine bulletins. + +I remember the morning when our butcher's boy brought the news that +the first German flag had been hung out on the balcony of the +Ministry of War. Now I thought, the Latin will boil over! And I +wanted to be there to see. I hurried down the quiet rue de +Martignac, turned the corner of the Place Sainte Clotilde, and came +on an orderly crowd filling the street before the Ministry of War. +The crowd was so orderly that the few pacific gestures of the police +easily cleared a way for passing cabs, and for the military motors +perpetually dashing up. It was composed of all classes, and there +were many family groups, with little boys straddling their mothers' +shoulders, or lifted up by the policemen when they were too heavy +for their mothers. It is safe to say that there was hardly a man or +woman of that crowd who had not a soldier at the front; and there +before them hung the enemy's first flag--a splendid silk flag, white +and black and crimson, and embroidered in gold. It was the flag of +an Alsatian regiment--a regiment of Prussianized Alsace. It +symbolized all they most abhorred in the whole abhorrent job that +lay ahead of them; it symbolized also their finest ardour and their +noblest hate, and the reason why, if every other reason failed, +France could never lay down arms till the last of such flags was +low. And there they stood and looked at it, not dully or +uncomprehendingly, but consciously, advisedly, and in silence; as if +already foreseeing all it would cost to keep that flag and add to it +others like it; forseeing the cost and accepting it. There seemed to +be men's hearts even in the children of that crowd, and in the +mothers whose weak arms held them up. So they gazed and went on, and +made way for others like them, who gazed in their turn and went on +too. All day the crowd renewed itself, and it was always the same +crowd, intent and understanding and silent, who looked steadily at +the flag, and knew what its being there meant. That, in August, was +the look of Paris. + + +III + +FEBRUARY + +FEBRUARY dusk on the Seine. The boats are plying again, but they +stop at nightfall, and the river is inky-smooth, with the same long +weed-like reflections as in August. Only the reflections are fewer +and paler; bright lights are muffled everywhere. The line of the +quays is scarcely discernible, and the heights of the Trocadero are +lost in the blur of night, which presently effaces even the firm +tower-tops of Notre-Dame. Down the damp pavements only a few street +lamps throw their watery zigzags. The shops are shut, and the +windows above them thickly curtained. The faces of the houses are +all blind. + +In the narrow streets of the Rive Gauche the darkness is even +deeper, and the few scattered lights in courts or "cites" create +effects of Piranesi-like mystery. The gleam of the chestnut-roaster's +brazier at a street corner deepens the sense of an old adventurous +Italy, and the darkness beyond seems full of cloaks and conspiracies. +I turn, on my way home, into an empty street between high garden +walls, with a single light showing far off at its farther end. Not a +soul is in sight between me and that light: my steps echo endlessly +in the silence. Presently a dim figure comes around the corner ahead +of me. Man or woman? Impossible to tell till I overtake it. The +February fog deepens the darkness, and the faces one passes are +indistinguishable. As for the numbers of the houses, no one thinks +of looking for them. If you know the quarter you count doors from +the corner, or try to puzzle out the familiar outline of a balcony +or a pediment; if you are in a strange street, you must ask at the +nearest tobacconist's--for, as for finding a policeman, a yard off +you couldn't tell him from your grandmother! + +Such, after six months of war, are the nights of Paris; the days are +less remarkable and less romantic. + +Almost all the early flush and shiver of romance is gone; or so at +least it seems to those who have watched the gradual revival of +life. It may appear otherwise to observers from other countries, +even from those involved in the war. After London, with all her +theaters open, and her machinery of amusement almost unimpaired, +Paris no doubt seems like a city on whom great issues weigh. But to +those who lived through that first sunlit silent month the streets +to-day show an almost normal activity. The vanishing of all the +motorbuses, and of the huge lumbering commercial vans, leaves many a +forgotten perspective open and reveals many a lost grace of +architecture; but the taxi-cabs and private motors are almost as +abundant as in peace-time, and the peril of pedestrianism is kept at +its normal pitch by the incessant dashing to and fro of those +unrivalled engines of destruction, the hospital and War Office +motors. Many shops have reopened, a few theatres are tentatively +producing patriotic drama or mixed programmes seasonal with +sentiment and mirth, and the cinema again unrolls its eventful +kilometres. + +For a while, in September and October, the streets were made +picturesque by the coming and going of English soldiery, and the +aggressive flourish of British military motors. Then the fresh faces +and smart uniforms disappeared, and now the nearest approach to +"militarism" which Paris offers to the casual sight-seer is the +occasional drilling of a handful of _piou-pious_ on the muddy +reaches of the Place des Invalides. But there is another army in +Paris. Its first detachments came months ago, in the dark September +days--lamentable rear-guard of the Allies' retreat on Paris. Since +then its numbers have grown and grown, its dingy streams have +percolated through all the currents of Paris life, so that wherever +one goes, in every quarter and at every hour, among the busy +confident strongly-stepping Parisians one sees these other people, +dazed and slowly moving--men and women with sordid bundles on their +backs, shuffling along hesitatingly in their tattered shoes, +children dragging at their hands and tired-out babies pressed +against their shoulders: the great army of the Refugees. Their faces +are unmistakable and unforgettable. No one who has ever caught that +stare of dumb bewilderment--or that other look of concentrated +horror, full of the reflection of flames and ruins--can shake off +the obsession of the Refugees. The look in their eyes is part of the +look of Paris. It is the dark shadow on the brightness of the face +she turns to the enemy. These poor people cannot look across the +borders to eventual triumph. They belong mostly to a class whose +knowledge of the world's affairs is measured by the shadow of their +village steeple. They are no more curious of the laws of causation +than the thousands overwhelmed at Avezzano. They were ploughing and +sowing, spinning and weaving and minding their business, when +suddenly a great darkness full of fire and blood came down on them. +And now they are here, in a strange country, among unfamiliar faces +and new ways, with nothing left to them in the world but the memory +of burning homes and massacred children and young men dragged to +slavery, of infants torn from their mothers, old men trampled by +drunken heels and priests slain while they prayed beside the dying. +These are the people who stand in hundreds every day outside the +doors of the shelters improvised to rescue them, and who receive, in +return for the loss of everything that makes life sweet, or +intelligible, or at least endurable, a cot in a dormitory, a +meal-ticket--and perhaps, on lucky days, a pair of shoes... + +What are the Parisians doing meanwhile? For one thing--and the sign +is a good one--they are refilling the shops, and especially, of +course, the great "department stores." In the early war days there +was no stranger sight than those deserted palaces, where one strayed +between miles of unpurchased wares in quest of vanished salesmen. A +few clerks, of course, were left: enough, one would have thought, +for the rare purchasers who disturbed their meditations. But the few +there were did not care to be disturbed: they lurked behind their +walls of sheeting, their bastions of flannelette, as if ashamed to +be discovered. And when one had coaxed them out they went through +the necessary gestures automatically, as if mournfully wondering +that any one should care to buy. I remember once, at the Louvre, +seeing the whole force of a "department," including the salesman I +was trying to cajole into showing me some medicated gauze, desert +their posts simultaneously to gather about a motor-cyclist in a +muddy uniform who had dropped in to see his pals with tales from the +front. But after six months the pressure of normal appetites has +begun to reassert itself--and to shop is one of the normal appetites +of woman. I say "shop" instead of buy, to distinguish between the +dull purchase of necessities and the voluptuousness of acquiring +things one might do without. It is evident that many of the +thousands now fighting their way into the great shops must be +indulging in the latter delight. At a moment when real wants are +reduced to a minimum, how else account for the congestion of the +department store? Even allowing for the immense, the perpetual +buying of supplies for hospitals and work-rooms, the incessant +stoking-up of the innumerable centres of charitable production, +there is no explanation of the crowding of the other departments +except the fact that woman, however valiant, however tried, however +suffering and however self-denying, must eventually, in the long +run, and at whatever cost to her pocket and her ideals, begin to +shop again. She has renounced the theatre, she denies herself the +teo-rooms, she goes apologetically and furtively (and economically) +to concerts--but the swinging doors of the department stores suck +her irresistibly into their quicksand of remnants and reductions. + +No one, in this respect, would wish the look of Paris to be changed. +It is a good sign to see the crowds pouring into the shops again, +even though the sight is less interesting than that of the other +crowds streaming daily--and on Sunday in immensely augmented +numbers--across the Pont Alexandre III to the great court of the +Invalides where the German trophies are displayed. Here the heart of +France beats with a richer blood, and something of its glow passes +into foreign veins as one watches the perpetually renewed throngs +face to face with the long triple row of German guns. There are few +in those throngs to whom one of the deadly pack has not dealt a +blow; there are personal losses, lacerating memories, bound up with +the sight of all those evil engines. But personal sorrow is the +sentiment least visible in the look of Paris. It is not fanciful to +say that the Parisian face, after six months of trial, has acquired +a new character. The change seems to have affected the very stuff it +is moulded of, as though the long ordeal had hardened the poor human +clay into some dense commemorative substance. I often pass in the +street women whose faces look like memorial medals--idealized images +of what they were in the flesh. And the masks of some of the +men--those queer tormented Gallic masks, crushed-in and squat and a +little satyr-like--look like the bronzes of the Naples Museum, burnt +and twisted from their baptism of fire. But none of these faces +reveals a personal preoccupation: they are looking, one and all, at +France erect on her borders. Even the women who are comparing +different widths of Valenciennes at the lace-counter all have +something of that vision in their eyes--or else one does not see the +ones who haven't. + +It is still true of Paris that she has not the air of a capital in +arms. There are as few troops to be seen as ever, and but for the +coming and going of the orderlies attached to the War Office and the +Military Government, and the sprinkling of uniforms about the doors +of barracks, there would be no sign of war in the streets--no sign, +that is, except the presence of the wounded. It is only lately that +they have begun to appear, for in the early months of the war they +were not sent to Paris, and the splendidly appointed hospitals of +the capital stood almost empty, while others, all over the country, +were overcrowded. The motives for the disposal of the wounded have +been much speculated upon and variously explained: one of its +results may have been the maintaining in Paris of the extraordinary +moral health which has given its tone to the whole country, and +which is now sound and strong enough to face the sight of any +misery. + +And miseries enough it has to face. Day by day the limping figures +grow more numerous on the pavement, the pale bandaged heads more +frequent in passing carriages. In the stalls at the theatres and +concerts there are many uniforms; and their wearers usually have to +wait till the hall is emptied before they hobble out on a supporting +arm. Most of them are very young, and it is the expression of their +faces which I should like to picture and interpret as being the very +essence of what I have called the look of Paris. They are grave, +these young faces: one hears a great deal of the gaiety in the +trenches, but the wounded are not gay. Neither are they sad, +however. They are calm, meditative, strangely purified and matured. +It is as though their great experience had purged them of pettiness, +meanness and frivolity, burning them down to the bare bones of +character, the fundamental substance of the soul, and shaping that +substance into something so strong and finely tempered that for a +long time to come Paris will not care to wear any look unworthy of +the look on their faces. + + + + +IN ARGONNE + + +I + +The permission to visit a few ambulances and evacuation hospitals +behind the lines gave me, at the end of February, my first sight of +War. + +Paris is no longer included in the military zone, either in fact or +in appearance. Though it is still manifestly under the war-cloud, +its air of reviving activity produces the illusion that the menace +which casts that cloud is far off not only in distance but in time. +Paris, a few months ago so alive to the nearness of the enemy, seems +to have grown completely oblivious of that nearness; and it is +startling, not more than twenty miles from the gates, to pass from +such an atmosphere of workaday security to the imminent sense of +war. + +Going eastward, one begins to feel the change just beyond Meaux. +Between that quiet episcopal city and the hill-town of Montmirail, +some forty miles farther east, there are no sensational evidences of +the great conflict of September--only, here and there, in an +unploughed field, or among the fresh brown furrows, a little mound +with a wooden cross and a wreath on it. Nevertheless, one begins to +perceive, by certain negative signs, that one is already in another +world. On the cold February day when we turned out of Meaux and took +the road to the Argonne, the change was chiefly shown by the curious +absence of life in the villages through which we passed. Now and +then a lonely ploughman and his team stood out against the sky, or a +child and an old woman looked from a doorway; but many of the fields +were fallow and most of the doorways empty. We passed a few carts +driven by peasants, a stray wood-cutter in a copse, a road-mender +hammering at his stones; but already the "civilian motor" had +disappeared, and all the dust-coloured cars dashing past us were +marked with the Red Cross or the number of an army division. At +every bridge and railway-crossing a sentinel, standing in the middle +of the road with lifted rifle, stopped the motor and examined our +papers. In this negative sphere there was hardly any other tangible +proof of military rule; but with the descent of the first hill +beyond Montmirail there came the positive feeling: _This is war!_ + +Along the white road rippling away eastward over the dimpled country +the army motors were pouring by in endless lines, broken now and +then by the dark mass of a tramping regiment or the clatter of a +train of artillery. In the intervals between these waves of military +traffic we had the road to ourselves, except for the flashing past +of despatch-bearers on motor-cycles and of hideously hooting little +motors carrying goggled officers in goat-skins and woollen helmets. + +The villages along the road all seemed empty--not figuratively but +literally empty. None of them has suffered from the German invasion, +save by the destruction, here and there, of a single house on which +some random malice has wreaked itself; but since the general flight +in September all have remained abandoned, or are provisionally +occupied by troops, and the rich country between Montmirail and +Chalons is a desert. + +The first sight of Chame is extraordinarily exhilarating. The old +town lying so pleasantly between canal and river is the +Head-quarters of an army--not of a corps or of a division, but of a +whole army--and the network of grey provincial streets about the +Romanesque towers of Notre Dame rustles with the movement of war. +The square before the principal hotel--the incomparably named "Haute +Mere-Dieu"--is as vivid a sight as any scene of modern war +can be. Rows of grey motor-lorries and omnibuses do not lend +themselves to as happy groupings as a detachment of cavalry, and +spitting and spurting motor-cycles and "torpedo" racers are no +substitute for the glitter of helmets and the curvetting of +chargers; but once the eye has adapted itself to the ugly lines and +the neutral tints of the new warfare, the scene in that crowded +clattering square becomes positively brilliant. It is a vision of +one of the central functions of a great war, in all its concentrated +energy, without the saddening suggestions of what, on the distant +periphery, that energy is daily and hourly resulting in. Yet even +here such suggestions are never long out of sight; for one cannot +pass through Chalons without meeting, on their way from the station, +a long line of "eclopes"--the unwounded but battered, shattered, +frost-bitten, deafened and half-paralyzed wreckage of the +awful struggle. These poor wretches, in their thousands, are daily +shipped back from the front to rest and be restored; and it is a +grim sight to watch them limping by, and to meet the dazed stare of +eyes that have seen what one dare not picture. + +If one could think away the "'eclopes" in the streets and the +wounded in their hospitals, Chalons would be an invigorating +spectacle. When we drove up to the hotel even the grey motors and +the sober uniforms seemed to sparkle under the cold sky. The +continual coming and going of alert and busy messengers, the riding +up of officers (for some still ride!), the arrival of much-decorated +military personages in luxurious motors, the hurrying to and fro of +orderlies, the perpetual depleting and refilling of the long rows of +grey vans across the square, the movements of Red Cross ambulances +and the passing of detachments for the front, all these are sights +that the pacific stranger could forever gape at. And in the hotel, +what a clatter of swords, what a piling up of fur coats and +haversacks, what a grouping of bronzed energetic heads about the +packed tables in the restaurant! It is not easy for civilians to get +to Chalons, and almost every table is occupied by officers and +soldiers--for, once off duty, there seems to be no rank distinction +in this happy democratic army, and the simple private, if he chooses +to treat himself to the excellent fare of the Haute Mere-Dieu, has +as good a right to it as his colonel. + +The scene in the restaurant is inexhaustibly interesting. The mere +attempt to puzzle out the different uniforms is absorbing. A week's +experience near the front convinces me that no two uniforms in the +French army are alike either in colour or in cut. Within the last +two years the question of colour has greatly preoccupied the French +military authorities, who have been seeking an invisible blue; and +the range of their experiments is proved by the extraordinary +variety of shades of blue, ranging from a sort of greyish +robin's-egg to the darkest navy, in which the army is clothed. The +result attained is the conviction that no blue is really +inconspicuous, and that some of the harsh new slaty tints are no +less striking than the deeper shades they have superseded. But to +this scale of experimental blues, other colours must be added: the +poppy-red of the Spahis' tunics, and various other less familiar +colours--grey, and a certain greenish khaki--the use of which is due +to the fact that the cloth supply has given out and that all +available materials are employed. As for the differences in cut, the +uniforms vary from the old tight tunic to the loose belted jacket +copied from the English, and the emblems of the various arms and +ranks embroidered on these diversified habits add a new element of +perplexity. The aviator's wings, the motorist's wheel, and many of +the newer symbols, are easily recognizable--but there are all the +other arms, and the doctors and the stretcher-bearers, the sappers +and miners, and heaven knows how many more ramifications of this +great host which is really all the nation. + +The main interest of the scene, however, is that it shows almost as +many types as uniforms, and that almost all the types are so good. +One begins to understand (if one has failed to before) why the +French say of themselves: "_La France est une nation guerriere._" +War is the greatest of paradoxes: the most senseless and +disheartening of human retrogressions, and yet the stimulant of +qualities of soul which, in every race, can seemingly find no other +means of renewal. Everything depends, therefore, on the category of +impulses that war excites in a people. Looking at the faces at +Chalons, one sees at once in which [Page 54] sense the French are +"une nation guerriere." It is not too much to say that war has given +beauty to faces that were interesting, humorous, acute, malicious, a +hundred vivid and expressive things, but last and least of all +beautiful. Almost all the faces about these crowded tables--young or +old, plain or handsome, distinguished or average--have the same look +of quiet authority: it is as though all "nervosity," fussiness, +little personal oddities, meannesses and vulgarities, had been burnt +away in a great flame of self-dedication. It is a wonderful example +of the rapidity with which purpose models the human countenance. +More than half of these men were probably doing dull or useless or +unimportant things till the first of last August; now each one of +them, however small his job, is sharing in a great task, and knows +it, and has been made over by knowing it. + +Our road on leaving Chalons continued to run northeastward toward +the hills of the Argonne. + +We passed through more deserted villages, with soldiers lounging in +the doors where old women should have sat with their distaffs, +soldiers watering their horses in the village pond, soldiers cooking +over gypsy fires in the farm-yards. In the patches of woodland along +the road we came upon more soldiers, cutting down pine saplings, +chopping them into even lengths and loading them on hand-carts, with +the green boughs piled on top. We soon saw to what use they were +put, for at every cross-road or railway bridge a warm sentry-box of +mud and straw and plaited pine-branches was plastered against a bank +or tucked like a swallow's nest into a sheltered corner. A little +farther on we began to come more and more frequently on big colonies +of "Seventy-fives." Drawn up nose to nose, usually against a curtain +of woodland, in a field at some distance from the road, and always +attended by a cumbrous drove of motor-vans, they looked like giant +gazelles feeding among elephants; and the stables of woven +pine-boughs which stood near by might have been the huge huts of +their herdsmen. + +The country between Marne and Meuse is one of the regions on which +German fury spent itself most bestially during the abominable +September days. Half way between Chalons and Sainte Menehould we +came on the first evidence of the invasion: the lamentable ruins of +the village of Auve. These pleasant villages of the Aisne, with +their one long street, their half-timbered houses and high-roofed +granaries with espaliered gable-ends, are all much of one pattern, +and one can easily picture what Auve must have been as it looked +out, in the blue September weather, above the ripening pears of its +gardens to the crops in the valley and the large landscape beyond. +Now it is a mere waste of rubble [Page 58] and cinders, not one +threshold distinguishable from another. We saw many other ruined +villages after Auve, but this was the first, and perhaps for that +reason one had there, most hauntingly, the vision of all the +separate terrors, anguishes, uprootings and rendings apart involved +in the destruction of the obscurest of human communities. The +photographs on the walls, the twigs of withered box above the +crucifixes, the old wedding-dresses in brass-clamped trunks, the +bundles of letters laboriously written and as painfully deciphered, +all the thousand and one bits of the past that give meaning and +continuity to the present--of all that accumulated warmth nothing was +left but a brick-heap and some twisted stove-pipes! + +As we ran on toward Sainte Menehould the names on our map showed us +that, just beyond the parallel range of hills six or seven miles to +the north, the two armies lay interlocked. But we heard no cannon +yet, and the first visible evidence of the nearness of the struggle +was the encounter, at a bend of the road, of a long line of +grey-coated figures tramping toward us between the bayonets of their +captors. They were a sturdy lot, this fresh "bag" from the hills, of +a fine fighting age, and much less famished and war-worn than one +could have wished. Their broad blond faces were meaningless, +guarded, but neither defiant nor unhappy: they seemed none too sorry +for their fate. + +Our pass from the General Head-quarters carried us to Sainte +Menehould on the edge of the Argonne, where we had to apply to the +Head-quarters of the division for a farther extension. The Staff are +lodged in a house considerably the worse for German occupancy, where +offices have been improvised by means of wooden hoardings, and +where, sitting in a bare passage on a frayed damask sofa surmounted +by theatrical posters and faced by a bed with a plum-coloured +counterpane, we listened for a while to the jingle of telephones, +the rat-tat of typewriters, the steady hum of dictation and the +coming and going of hurried despatch-bearers and orderlies. The +extension to the permit was presently delivered with the courteous +request that we should push on to Verdun as fast as possible, as +civilian motors were not wanted on the road that afternoon; and this +request, coupled with the evident stir of activity at Head-quarters, +gave us the impression that there must be a good deal happening +beyond the low line of hills to the north. How much there was we +were soon to know. + +We left Sainte Menehould at about eleven, and before twelve o'clock +we were nearing a large village on a ridge from which the land swept +away to right and left in ample reaches. The first glimpse of the +outlying houses showed nothing unusual; but presently the main +street turned and dipped downward, and below and beyond us lay a +long stretch of ruins: the calcined remains of Clermont-en-Argonne, +destroyed by the Germans on the 4th of September. The free and lofty +situation of the little town--for it was really a good deal more +than a village--makes its present state the more lamentable. One can +see it from so far off, and through the torn traceries of its ruined +church the eye travels over so lovely a stretch of country! No doubt +its beauty enriched the joy of wrecking it. + +At the farther end of what was once the main street another small +knot of houses has survived. Chief among them is the Hospice for old +men, where Sister Gabrielle Rosnet, when the authorities of Clermont +took to their heels, stayed behind to defend her charges, and where, +ever since, she has nursed an undiminishing stream of wounded from +the eastern front. We found Soeur Rosnet, with her Sisters, +preparing the midday meal of her patients in the little kitchen of +the Hospice: the kitchen which is also her dining-room and private +office. She insisted on our finding time to share the _filet_ and +fried potatoes that were just being taken off the stove, and while +we lunched she told us the story of the invasion--of the Hospice +doors broken down "a coups de crosse" and the grey officers bursting +in with revolvers, and finding her there before them, in the big +vaulted vestibule, "alone with my old men and my Sisters." Soeur +Gabrielle Rosnet is a small round active woman, with a shrewd and +ruddy face of the type that looks out calmly from the dark +background of certain Flemish pictures. Her blue eyes are full of +warmth and humour, and she puts as much gaiety as wrath into her +tale. She does not spare epithets in talking of "ces satanes +Allemands"--these Sisters and nurses of the front have seen sights +to dry up the last drop of sentimental pity--but through all the +horror of those fierce September days, with Clermont blazing about +her and the helpless remnant of its inhabitants under the perpetual +threat of massacre, she retained her sense of the little inevitable +absurdities of life, such as her not knowing how to address the +officer in command "because he was so tall that I couldn't see up to +his shoulder-straps."--"Et ils etaient tous comme ca," she added, a +sort of reluctant admiration in her eyes. + +A subordinate "good Sister" had just cleared the table and poured +out our coffee when a woman came in to say, in a matter-of-fact +tone, that there was hard fighting going on across the valley. She +added calmly, as she dipped our plates into a tub, that an obus had +just fallen a mile or two off, and that if we liked we could see the +fighting from a garden over the way. It did not take us long to +reach that garden! Soeur Gabrielle showed the way, bouncing up the +stairs of a house across the street, and flying at her heels we came +out on a grassy terrace full of soldiers. + +The cannon were booming without a pause, and seemingly so near that +it was bewildering to look out across empty fields at a hillside +that seemed like any other. But luckily somebody had a field-glass, +and with its help a little corner of the battle of Vauquois was +suddenly brought close to us--the rush of French infantry up the +slopes, the feathery drift of French gun-smoke lower down, and, high +up, on the wooded crest along the sky, the red lightnings and white +puffs of the German artillery. Rap, rap, rap, went the answering +guns, as the troops swept up and disappeared into the fire-tongued +wood; and we stood there dumbfounded at the accident of having +stumbled on this visible episode of the great subterranean struggle. + +Though Soeur Rosnet had seen too many such sights to be much moved, +she was full of a lively curiosity, and stood beside us, squarely +planted in the mud, holding the field-glass to her eyes, or passing +it laughingly about among the soldiers. But as we turned to go she +said: "They've sent us word to be ready for another four hundred +to-night"; and the twinkle died out of her good eyes. + +Her expectations were to be dreadfully surpassed; for, as we learned +a fortnight later from a three column _communique,_ the scene we had +assisted at was no less than the first act of the successful assault +on the high-perched village of Vauquois, a point of the first +importance to the Germans, since it masked their operations to the +north of Varennes and commanded the railway by which, since +September, they have been revictualling and reinforcing their army +in the Argonne. Vauquois had been taken by them at the end of +September and, thanks to its strong position on a rocky spur, had +been almost impregnably fortified; but the attack we looked on at +from the garden of Clermont, on Sunday, February 28th, carried the +victorious French troops to the top of the ridge, and made them +masters of a part of the village. Driven from it again that night, +they were to retake it after a five days' struggle of exceptional +violence and prodigal heroism, and are now securely established +there in a position described as "of vital importance to the +operations." "But what it cost!" Soeur Gabrielle said, when we saw +her again a few days later. + + +II + +The time had come to remember our promise and hurry away from +Clermont; but a few miles farther our attention was arrested by the +sight of the Red Cross over a village house. The house was little +more than a hovel, the village--Blercourt it was called--a mere +hamlet of scattered cottages and cow-stables: a place so easily +overlooked that it seemed likely our supplies might be needed there. + +An orderly went to find the _medecin-chef_, and we waded after him +through the mud to one after another of the cottages in which, with +admirable ingenuity, he had managed to create out of next to nothing +the indispensable requirements of a second-line ambulance: +sterilizing and disinfecting appliances, a bandage-room, a pharmacy, +a well-filled wood-shed, and a clean kitchen in which "tisanes" were +brewing over a cheerful fire. A detachment of cavalry was quartered +in the village, which the trampling of hoofs had turned into a great +morass, and as we picked our way from cottage to cottage in the +doctor's wake he told us of the expedients to which he had been put +to secure even the few hovels into which his patients were crowded. +It was a complaint we were often to hear repeated along this line of +the front, where troops and wounded are packed in thousands into +villages meant to house four or five hundred; and we admired the +skill and devotion with which he had dealt with the difficulty, and +managed to lodge his patients decently. + +We came back to the high-road, and he asked us if we should like to +see the church. It was about three o'clock, and in the low porch the +cure was ringing the bell for vespers. We pushed open the inner +doors and went in. The church was without aisles, and down the nave +stood four rows of wooden cots with brown blankets. In almost every +one lay a soldier--the doctor's "worst cases"--few of them wounded, +the greater number stricken with fever, bronchitis, frost-bite, +pleurisy, or some other form of trench-sickness too severe to permit +of their being carried farther from the front. One or two heads +turned on the pillows as we entered, but for the most part the men +did not move. + +The cure, meanwhile, passing around to the sacristy, had come out +before the altar in his vestments, followed by a little white +acolyte. A handful of women, probably the only "civil" inhabitants +left, and some of the soldiers we had seen about the village, had +entered the church and stood together between the rows of cots; and +the service began. It was a sunless afternoon, and the picture was +all in monastic shades of black and white and ashen grey: the sick +under their earth-coloured blankets, their livid faces against the +pillows, the black dresses of the women (they seemed all to be in +mourning) and the silver haze floating out from the little acolyte's +censer. The only light in the scene--the candle-gleams on the altar, +and their reflection in the embroideries of the cure's chasuble--were +like a faint streak of sunset on the winter dusk. + +For a while the long Latin cadences sounded on through the church; +but presently the cure took up in French the Canticle of the Sacred +Heart, composed during the war of 1870, and the little congregation +joined their trembling voices in the refrain: + + "_Sauvez, sauvez la France, + Ne l'abandonnez pas!_" + +The reiterated appeal rose in a sob above the rows of bodies in the +nave: "_Sauvez, sauvez la France_," the women wailed it near the +altar, the soldiers took it up from the door in stronger tones; but +the bodies in the cots never stirred, and more and more, as the day +faded, the church looked like a quiet grave-yard in a battle-field. + +After we had left Sainte Menehould the sense of the nearness and +all-pervadingness of the war became even more vivid. Every road +branching away to our left was a finger touching a red wound: +Varennes, le Four de Paris, le Bois de la Grurie, were not more than +eight or ten miles to the north. Along our own road the stream of +motor-vans and the trains of ammunition grew longer and more +frequent. Once we passed a long line of "Seventy-fives" going single +file up a hillside, farther on we watched a big detachment of +artillery galloping across a stretch of open country. The movement +of supplies was continuous, and every village through which we +passed swarmed with soldiers busy loading or unloading the big vans, +or clustered about the commissariat motors while hams and quarters +of beef were handed out. As we approached Verdun the cannonade had +grown louder again; and when we reached the walls of the town and +passed under the iron teeth of the portcullis we felt ourselves in +one of the last outposts of a mighty line of defense. The desolation +of Verdun is as impressive as the feverish activity of Chalons. +The civil population was evacuated in September, and only a small +percentage have returned. Nine-tenths of the shops are closed, and +as the troops are nearly all in the trenches there is hardly any +movement in the streets. + +The first duty of the traveller who has successfully passed the +challenge of the sentinel at the gates is to climb the steep hill to +the citadel at the top of the town. Here the military authorities +inspect one's papers, and deliver a "permis de sejour" which must be +verified by the police before lodgings can be obtained. We found the +principal hotel much less crowded than the Haute Mere-Dieu at +Chalons, though many of the officers of the garrison mess +there. The whole atmosphere of the place was different: silent, +concentrated, passive. To the chance observer, Verdun appears to +live only in its hospitals; and of these there are fourteen within +the walls alone. As darkness fell, the streets became completely +deserted, and the cannonade seemed to grow nearer and more +incessant. That first night the hush was so intense that every +reverberation from the dark hills beyond the walls brought out in +the mind its separate vision of destruction; and then, just as the +strained imagination could bear no more, the thunder ceased. A +moment later, in a court below my windows, a pigeon began to coo; +and all night long the two sounds strangely alternated... + +On entering the gates, the first sight to attract us had been a +colony of roughly-built bungalows scattered over the miry slopes of +a little park adjoining the railway station, and surmounted by the +sign: "Evacuation Hospital No. 6." The next morning we went to visit +it. A part of the station buildings has been adapted to hospital +use, and among them a great roofless hall, which the surgeon in +charge has covered in with canvas and divided down its length into a +double row of tents. Each tent contains two wooden cots, +scrupulously clean and raised high above the floor; and the immense +ward is warmed by a row of stoves down the central passage. In the +bungalows across the road are beds for the patients who are to be +kept for a time before being transferred to the hospitals in the +town. In one bungalow an operating-room has been installed, in +another are the bathing arrangements for the newcomers from the +trenches. Every possible device for the relief of the wounded has +been carefully thought out and intelligently applied by the surgeon +in charge and the _infirmiere major_ who indefatigably seconds him. +Evacuation Hospital No. 6 sprang up in an hour, almost, on the +dreadful August day when four thousand wounded lay on stretchers +between the railway station and the gate of the little park across +the way; and it has gradually grown into the model of what such a +hospital may become in skilful and devoted hands. + +Verdun has other excellent hospitals for the care of the severely +wounded who cannot be sent farther from the front. Among them St. +Nicolas, in a big airy building on the Meuse, is an example of a +great French Military Hospital at its best; but I visited few +others, for the main object of my journey was to get to some of the +second-line ambulances beyond the town. The first we went to was in +a small village to the north of Verdun, not far from the enemy's +lines at Cosenvoye, and was fairly representative of all the others. +The dreary muddy village was crammed with troops, and the ambulance +had been installed at haphazard in such houses as the military +authorities could spare. The arrangements were primitive but clean, +and even the dentist had set up his apparatus in one of the rooms. +The men lay on mattresses or in wooden cots, and the rooms were +heated by stoves. The great need, here as everywhere, was for +blankets and clean underclothing; for the wounded are brought in +from the front encrusted with frozen mud, and usually without having +washed or changed for weeks. There are no women nurses in these +second-line ambulances, but all the army doctors we saw seemed +intelligent, and anxious to do the best they could for their men in +conditions of unusual hardship. The principal obstacle in their way +is the over-crowded state of the villages. Thousands of soldiers are +camped in all of them, in hygienic conditions that would be bad +enough for men in health; and there is also a great need for light +diet, since the hospital commissariat of the front apparently +supplies no invalid foods, and men burning with fever have to be fed +on meat and vegetables. + +In the afternoon we started out again in a snow-storm, over a +desolate rolling country to the south of Verdun. The wind blew +fiercely across the whitened slopes, and no one was in sight but the +sentries marching up and down the railway lines, and an occasional +cavalryman patrolling the lonely road. Nothing can exceed the +mournfulness of this depopulated land: we might have been wandering +over the wilds of Poland. We ran some twenty miles down the +steel-grey Meuse to a village about four miles west of Les Eparges, +the spot where, for weeks past, a desperate struggle had been going +on. There must have been a lull in the fighting that day, for the +cannon had ceased; but the scene at the point where we left the +motor gave us the sense of being on the very edge of the conflict. +The long straggling village lay on the river, and the trampling of +cavalry and the hauling of guns had turned the land about it into a +mud-flat. Before the primitive cottage where the doctor's office had +been installed were the motors of the surgeon and the medical +inspector who had accompanied us. Near by stood the usual flock of +grey motor-vans, and all about was the coming and going of cavalry +remounts, the riding up of officers, the unloading of supplies, the +incessant activity of mud-splashed sergeants and men. + +The main ambulance was in a grange, of which the two stories had +been partitioned off into wards. Under the cobwebby rafters the men +lay in rows on clean pallets, and big stoves made the rooms dry and +warm. But the great superiority of this ambulance was its nearness +to a canalboat which had been fitted up with hot douches. The boat +was spotlessly clean, and each cabin was shut off by a gay curtain +of red-flowered chintz. Those curtains must do almost as much as the +hot water to make over the _morale_ of the men: they were the most +comforting sight of the day. + +Farther north, and on the other bank of the Meuse, lies another +large village which has been turned into a colony of eclopes. +Fifteen hundred sick or exhausted men are housed there--and there +are no hot douches or chintz curtains to cheer them! We were taken +first to the church, a large featureless building at the head of the +street. In the doorway our passage was obstructed by a mountain of +damp straw which a gang of hostler-soldiers were pitch-forking out +of the aisles. The interior of the church was dim and suffocating. +Between the pillars hung screens of plaited straw, forming little +enclosures in each of which about a dozen sick men lay on more +straw, without mattresses or blankets. No beds, no tables, no +chairs, no washing appliances--in their muddy clothes, as they come +from the front, they are bedded down on the stone floor like cattle +till they are well enough to go back to their job. It was a pitiful +contrast to the little church at Blercourt, with the altar lights +twinkling above the clean beds; and one wondered if even so near the +front, it had to be. "The African village, we call it," one of our +companions said with a laugh: but the African village has blue sky +over it, and a clear stream runs between its mud huts. + +We had been told at Sainte Menehould that, for military reasons, we +must follow a more southerly direction on our return to +Chalons; and when we left Verdun we took the road to +Bar-le-Duc. It runs southwest over beautiful broken country, +untouched by war except for the fact that its villages, like all the +others in this region, are either deserted or occupied by troops. As +we left Verdun behind us the sound of the cannon grew fainter and +died out, and we had the feeling that we were gradually passing +beyond the flaming boundaries into a more normal world; but +suddenly, at a cross-road, a sign-post snatched us back to war: _St. +Mihiel_, 18 _Kilometres_. St. Mihiel, the danger-spot of the region, +the weak joint in the armour! There it lay, up that harmless-looking +bye-road, not much more than ten miles away--a ten minutes' dash +would have brought us into the thick of the grey coats and spiked +helmets! The shadow of that sign-post followed us for miles, +darkening the landscape like the shadow from a racing storm-cloud. + +Bar-le-Duc seemed unaware of the cloud. The charming old town was in +its normal state of provincial apathy: few soldiers were about, and +here at last civilian life again predominated. After a few days on +the edge of the war, in that intermediate region under its solemn +spell, there is something strangely lowering to the mood in the +first sight of a busy unconscious community. One looks instinctively, +in the eyes of the passers by, for a reflection of that other vision, +and feels diminished by contact with people going so indifferently +about their business. + +A little way beyond Bar-le-Duc we came on another phase of the +war-vision, for our route lay exactly in the track of the August +invasion, and between Bar-le-Duc and Vitry-le-Francois the high-road +is lined with ruined towns. The first we came to was Laimont, a +large village wiped out as if a cyclone had beheaded it; then comes +Revigny, a town of over two thousand inhabitants, less completely +levelled because its houses were more solidly built, but a spectacle +of more tragic desolation, with its wide streets winding between +scorched and contorted fragments of masonry, bits of shop-fronts, +handsome doorways, the colonnaded court of a public building. A few +miles farther lies the most piteous of the group: the village of +Heiltz-le-Maurupt, once pleasantly set in gardens and orchards, now +an ugly waste like the others, and with a little church so stripped +and wounded and dishonoured that it lies there by the roadside like +a human victim. + +In this part of the country, which is one of many cross-roads, we +began to have unexpected difficulty in finding our way, for the +names and distances on the milestones have all been effaced, the +sign-posts thrown down and the enamelled _plaques_ on the houses at +the entrance to the villages removed. One report has it that this +precaution was taken by the inhabitants at the approach of the +invading army, another that the Germans themselves demolished the +sign-posts and plastered over the mile-stones in order to paint on +them misleading and encouraging distances. The result is extremely +bewildering, for, all the villages being either in ruins or +uninhabited, there is no one to question but the soldiers one meets, +and their answer is almost invariably "We don't know--we don't +belong here." One is in luck if one comes across a sentinel who +knows the name of the village he is guarding. + +It was the strangest of sensations to find ourselves in a chartless +wilderness within sixty or seventy miles of Paris, and to wander, as +we did, for hours across a high heathery waste, with wide blue +distances to north and south, and in all the scene not a landmark by +means of which we could make a guess at our whereabouts. One of our +haphazard turns at last brought us into a muddy bye-road with long +lines of "Seventy-fives" ranged along its banks like grey ant-eaters +in some monstrous menagerie. A little farther on we came to a +bemired village swarming with artillery and cavalry, and found +ourselves in the thick of an encampment just on the move. It seems +improbable that we were meant to be there, for our arrival caused +such surprise that no sentry remembered to challenge us, and +obsequiously saluting _sous-officiers_ instantly cleared a way for +the motor. So, by a happy accident, we caught one more war-picture, +all of vehement movement, as we passed out of the zone of war. + +We were still very distinctly in it on returning to Chalons, +which, if it had seemed packed on our previous visit, was now +quivering and cracking with fresh crowds. The stir about the +fountain, in the square before the Haute Mere-Dieu, was more +melodramatic than ever. Every one was in a hurry, every one booted +and mudsplashed, and spurred or sworded or despatch-bagged, or +somehow labelled as a member of the huge military beehive. The +privilege of telephoning and telegraphing being denied to civilians +in the war-zone, it was ominous to arrive at night-fall on such a +crowded scene, and we were not surprised to be told that there was +not a room left at the Haute Mere-Dieu, and that even the sofas in +the reading-room had been let for the night. At every other inn in +the town we met with the same answer; and finally we decided to ask +permission to go on as far as Epernay, about twelve miles off. At +Head-quarters we were told that our request could not be granted. No +motors are allowed to circulate after night-fall in the zone of war, +and the officer charged with the distribution of motor-permits +pointed out that, even if an exception were made in our favour, we +should probably be turned back by the first sentinel we met, only to +find ourselves unable to re-enter Chalons without another +permit! This alternative was so alarming that we began to think +ourselves relatively lucky to be on the right side of the gates; and +we went back to the Haute Mere-Dieu to squeeze into a crowded corner +of the restaurant for dinner. The hope that some one might have +suddenly left the hotel in the interval was not realized; but after +dinner we learned from the landlady that she had certain rooms +permanently reserved for the use of the Staff, and that, as these +rooms had not yet been called for that evening, we might possibly be +allowed to occupy them for the night. + +At Chalons the Head-quarters are in the Prefecture, a coldly +handsome building of the eighteenth century, and there, in a +majestic stone vestibule, beneath the gilded ramp of a great festal +staircase, we waited in anxious suspense, among the orderlies and +_estafettes_, while our unusual request was considered. The result +of the deliberation, was an expression of regret: nothing could be +done for us, as officers might at any moment arrive from the General +Head-quarters and require the rooms. It was then past nine o'clock, +and bitterly cold--and we began to wonder. Finally the polite +officer who had been charged to dismiss us, moved to compassion at +our plight, offered to give us a _laissez-passer_ back to Paris. But +Paris was about a hundred and twenty-five miles off, the night was +dark, the cold was piercing--and at every cross-road and railway +crossing a sentinel would have to be convinced of our right to go +farther. We remembered the warning given us earlier in the evening, +and, declining the offer, went out again into the cold. And just +then chance took pity on us. In the restaurant we had run across a +friend attached to the Staff, and now, meeting him again in the +depth of our difficulty, we were told of lodgings to be found near +by. He could not take us there, for it was past the hour when he had +a right to be out, or we either, for that matter, since curfew +sounds at nine at Chalons. But he told us how to find our way +through the maze of little unlit streets about the Cathedral; +standing there beside the motor, in the icy darkness of the deserted +square, and whispering hastily, as he turned to leave us: "You ought +not to be out so late; but the word tonight is _Jena_. When you give +it to the chauffeur, be sure no sentinel overhears you." With that +he was up the wide steps, the glass doors had closed on him, and I +stood there in the pitch-black night, suddenly unable to believe +that I was I, or Chalons Chalons, or that a young man who in Paris +drops in to dine with me and talk over new books and plays, had been +whispering a password in my ear to carry me unchallenged to a house +a few streets away! The sense of unreality produced by that one word +was so overwhelming that for a blissful moment the whole fabric of +what I had been experiencing, the whole huge and oppressive and +unescapable fact of the war, slipped away like a torn cobweb, and +I seemed to see behind it the reassuring face of things as they used +to be. + +The next morning dispelled that vision. We woke to a noise of guns +closer and more incessant than even the first night's cannonade at +Verdun; and when we went out into the streets it seemed as if, +overnight, a new army had sprung out of the ground. Waylaid at one +corner after another by the long tide of troops streaming out +through the town to the northern suburbs, we saw in turn all the +various divisions of the unfolding frieze: first the infantry and +artillery, the sappers and miners, the endless trains of guns and +ammunition, then the long line of grey supply-waggons, and finally +the stretcher-bearers following the Red Cross ambulances. All the +story of a day's warfare was written in the spectacle of that +endless silent flow to the front: and we were to read it again, a +few days later, in the terse announcement of "renewed activity" +about Suippes, and of the bloody strip of ground gained between +Perthes and Beausejour. + + + + +IN LORRAINE AND THE VOSGES + + +NANCY, May 13th, 1915 + +Beside me, on my writing-table, stands a bunch of peonies, the jolly +round-faced pink peonies of the village garden. They were picked +this afternoon in the garden of a ruined house at Gerbeviller--a +house so calcined and convulsed that, for epithets dire enough to +fit it, one would have to borrow from a Hebrew prophet gloating over +the fall of a city of idolaters. + +Since leaving Paris yesterday we have passed through streets and +streets of such murdered houses, through town after town spread out +in its last writhings; and before the black holes that were homes, +along the edge of the chasms that were streets, everywhere we have +seen flowers and vegetables springing up in freshly raked and +watered gardens. My pink peonies were not introduced to point the +stale allegory of unconscious Nature veiling Man's havoc: they are +put on my first page as a symbol of conscious human energy coming +back to replant and rebuild the wilderness... + +Last March, in the Argonne, the towns we passed through seemed quite +dead; but yesterday new life was budding everywhere. We were +following another track of the invasion, one of the huge +tiger-scratches that the Beast flung over the land last September, +between Vitry-le-Francois and Bar-le-Duc. Etrepy, Pargny, +Sermaize-les-Bains, Andernay, are the names of this group of +victims: Sermaize a pretty watering-place along wooded slopes, the +others large villages fringed with farms, and all now mere +scrofulous blotches on the soft spring scene. But in many we heard +the sound of hammers, and saw brick-layers and masons at work. Even +in the most mortally stricken there were signs of returning life: +children playing among the stone heaps, and now and then a cautious +older face peering out of a shed propped against the ruins. In one +place an ancient tram-car had been converted into a cafe and +labelled: "Au Restaurant des Ruines"; and everywhere between the +calcined walls the carefully combed gardens aligned their radishes +and lettuce-tops. + +From Bar-le-Duc we turned northeast, and as we entered the forest of +Commercy we began to hear again the Voice of the Front. It was the +warmest and stillest of May days, and in the clearing where we +stopped for luncheon the familiar boom broke with a magnified +loudness on the noonday hush. In the intervals between the crashes +there was not a sound but the gnats' hum in the moist sunshine and +the dryad-call of the cuckoo from greener depths. At the end of the +lane a few cavalrymen rode by in shabby blue, their horses' flanks +glinting like ripe chestnuts. They stopped to chat and accept some +cigarettes, and when they had trotted off again the gnat, the cuckoo +and the cannon took up their trio... + +The town of Commercy looked so undisturbed that the cannonade +rocking it might have been some unheeded echo of the hills. These +frontier towns inured to the clash of war go about their business +with what one might call stolidity if there were not finer, and +truer, names for it. In Commercy, to be sure, there is little +business to go about just now save that connected with the military +occupation; but the peaceful look of the sunny sleepy streets made +one doubt if the fighting line was really less than five miles away... +Yet the French, with an odd perversion of race-vanity, still +persist in speaking of themselves as a "nervous and impressionable" +people! + +This afternoon, on the road to Gerbeviller, we were again in the +track of the September invasion. Over all the slopes now cool with +spring foliage the battle rocked backward and forward during those +burning autumn days; and every mile of the struggle has left its +ghastly traces. The fields are full of wooden crosses which the +ploughshare makes a circuit to avoid; many of the villages have been +partly wrecked, and here and there an isolated ruin marks the +nucleus of a fiercer struggle. But the landscape, in its first sweet +leafiness, is so alive with ploughing and sowing and all the natural +tasks of spring, that the war scars seem like traces of a long-past +woe; and it was not till a bend of the road brought us in sight of +Gerbeviller that we breathed again the choking air of present +horror. + +Gerbeviller, stretched out at ease on its slopes above the Meurthe, +must have been a happy place to live in. The streets slanted up +between scattered houses in gardens to the great Louis XIV +chateau above the town and the church that balanced it. So +much one can reconstruct from the first glimpse across the valley; +but when one enters the town all perspective is lost in chaos. +Gerbeviller has taken to herself the title of "the martyr town"; an +honour to which many sister victims might dispute her claim! But as +a sensational image of havoc it seems improbable that any can +surpass her. Her ruins seem to have been simultaneously vomited up +from the depths and hurled down from the skies, as though she had +perished in some monstrous clash of earthquake and tornado; and it +fills one with a cold despair to know that this double destruction +was no accident of nature but a piously planned and methodically +executed human deed. From the opposite heights the poor little +garden-girt town was shelled like a steel fortress; then, when the +Germans entered, a fire was built in every house, and at the +nicely-timed right moment one of the explosive tabloids which the +fearless Teuton carries about for his land-_Lusitanias_ was tossed +on each hearth. It was all so well done that one wonders--almost +apologetically for German thoroughness--that any of the human rats +escaped from their holes; but some did, and were neatly spitted on +lurking bayonets. + +One old woman, hearing her son's deathcry, rashly looked out of her +door. A bullet instantly laid her low among her phloxes and lilies; +and there, in her little garden, her dead body was dishonoured. It +seemed singularly appropriate, in such a scene, to read above a +blackened doorway the sign: "Monuments Funebres," and to observe +that the house the doorway once belonged to had formed the angle of +a lane called "La Ruelle des Orphelines." + +At one end of the main street of Gerbeviller there once stood a +charming house, of the sober old Lorraine pattern, with low door, +deep roof and ample gables: it was in the garden of this house that +my pink peonies were picked for me by its owner, Mr. Liegeay, a +former Mayor of Gerbeviller, who witnessed all the horrors of the +invasion. + +Mr. Liegeay is now living in a neighbour's cellar, his own being +fully occupied by the debris of his charming house. He told us the +story of the three days of the German occupation; how he and his +wife and niece, and the niece's babies, took to their cellar while +the Germans set the house on fire, and how, peering through a door +into the stable-yard, they saw that the soldiers suspected they were +within and were trying to get at them. Luckily the incendiaries had +heaped wood and straw all round the outside of the house, and the +blaze was so hot that they could not reach the door. Between the +arch of the doorway and the door itself was a half-moon opening; and +Mr. Liegeay and his family, during three days and three nights, +broke up all the barrels in the cellar and threw the bits out +through the opening to feed the fire in the yard. + +Finally, on the third day, when they began to be afraid that the +ruins of the house would fall in on them, they made a dash for +safety. The house was on the edge of the town, and the women and +children managed to get away into the country; but Mr. Liegeay was +surprised in his garden by a German soldier. He made a rush for the +high wall of the adjoining cemetery, and scrambling over it slipped +down between the wall and a big granite cross. The cross was covered +with the hideous wire and glass wreaths dear to French mourners; and +with these opportune mementoes Mr. Liegeay roofed himself in, lying +wedged in his narrow hiding-place from three in the afternoon till +night, and listening to the voices of the soldiers who were hunting +for him among the grave-stones. Luckily it was their last day at +Gerbeviller, and the German retreat saved his life. + +Even in Gerbeviller we saw no worse scene of destruction than the +particular spot in which the ex-mayor stood while he told his story. +He looked about him at the heaps of blackened brick and contorted +iron. "This was my dining-room," he said. "There were some good old +paneling on the walls, and some fine prints that had been a +wedding-present to my grand-father." He led us into another black +pit. "This was our sitting-room: you see what a view we had." He +sighed, and added philosophically: "I suppose we were too well off. +I even had an electric light out there on the terrace, to read my +paper by on summer evenings. Yes, we were too well off..." That +was all. + +Meanwhile all the town had been red with horror--flame and shot and +tortures unnameable; and at the other end of the long street, a +woman, a Sister of Charity, had held her own like Soeur Gabrielle at +Clermont-en-Argonne, gathering her flock of old men and children +about her and interposing her short stout figure between them and +the fury of the Germans. We found her in her Hospice, a ruddy, +indomitable woman who related with a quiet indignation more +thrilling than invective the hideous details of the bloody three +days; but that already belongs to the past, and at present she is +much more concerned with the task of clothing and feeding +Gerbeviller. For two thirds of the population have already "come +home"--that is what they call the return to this desert! "You see," +Soeur Julie explained, "there are the crops to sow, the gardens to +tend. They had to come back. The government is building wooden +shelters for them; and people will surely send us beds and linen." +(Of course they would, one felt as one listened!) "Heavy boots, +too--boots for field-labourers. We want them for women as well as +men--like these." Soeur Julie, smiling, turned up a hob-nailed sole. +"I have directed all the work on our Hospice farm myself. All the +women are working in the fields--we must take the place of the men." +And I seemed to see my pink peonies flowering in the very prints of +her sturdy boots! + + + +May 14th. + +Nancy, the most beautiful town in France, has never been as +beautiful as now. Coming back to it last evening from a round of +ruins one felt as if the humbler Sisters sacrificed to spare it were +pleading with one not to forget them in the contemplation of its +dearly-bought perfection. + +The last time I looked out on the great architectural setting of the +Place Stanislas was on a hot July evening, the evening of the +National Fete. The square and the avenues leading to it +swarmed with people, and as darkness fell the balanced lines of +arches and palaces sprang out in many coloured light. Garlands of +lamps looped the arcades leading into the Place de la Carriere, +peacock-coloured fires flared from the Arch of Triumph, long curves +of radiance beat like wings over the thickets of the park, the +sculptures of the fountains, the brown-and-gold foliation of Jean +Damour's great gates; and under this roofing of light was the murmur +of a happy crowd carelessly celebrating the tradition of +half-forgotten victories. + +Now, at sunset, all life ceases in Nancy and veil after veil of +silence comes down on the deserted Place and its empty perspectives. +Last night by nine the few lingering lights in the streets had been +put out, every window was blind, and the moonless night lay over the +city like a canopy of velvet. Then, from some remote point, the arc +of a search-light swept the sky, laid a fugitive pallor on darkened +palace-fronts, a gleam of gold on invisible gates, trembled across +the black vault and vanished, leaving it still blacker. When we came +out of the darkened restaurant on the corner of the square, and the +iron curtain of the entrance had been hastily dropped on us, we +stood in such complete night that it took a waiter's friendly hand +to guide us to the curbstone. Then, as we grew used to the darkness, +we saw it lying still more densely under the colonnade of the Place +de la Carriere and the clipped trees beyond. The ordered masses of +architecture became august, the spaces between them immense, and the +black sky faintly strewn with stars seemed to overarch an enchanted +city. Not a footstep sounded, not a leaf rustled, not a breath of +air drew under the arches. And suddenly, through the dumb night, the +sound of the cannon began. + + +May 14th. + +Luncheon with the General Staff in an old bourgeois house of a +little town as sleepy as "Cranford." In the warm walled gardens +everything was blooming at once: laburnums, lilacs, red hawthorn, +Banksia roses and all the pleasant border plants that go with box +and lavender. Never before did the flowers answer the spring +roll-call with such a rush! Upstairs, in the Empire bedroom which +the General has turned into his study, it was amusingly incongruous +to see the sturdy provincial furniture littered with war-maps, +trench-plans, aeroplane photographs and all the documentation of +modern war. Through the windows bees hummed, the garden rustled, and +one felt, close by, behind the walls of other gardens, the +untroubled continuance of a placid and orderly bourgeois life. + +We started early for Mousson on the Moselle, the ruined +hill-fortress that gives its name to the better-known town at its +foot. Our road ran below the long range of the "Grand Couronne," the +line of hills curving southeast from Pont-a-Mousson to St. +Nicolas du Port. All through this pleasant broken country the battle +shook and swayed last autumn; but few signs of those days are left +except the wooden crosses in the fields. No troops are visible, and +the pictures of war that made the Argonne so tragic last March are +replaced by peaceful rustic scenes. On the way to Mousson the road +is overhung by an Italian-looking village clustered about a +hill-top. It marks the exact spot at which, last August, the German +invasion was finally checked and flung back; and the Muse of History +points out that on this very hill has long stood a memorial shaft +inscribed: _Here, in the year 362, Jovinus defeated the Teutonic +hordes._ + +A little way up the ascent to Mousson we left the motor behind a bit +of rising ground. The road is raked by the German lines, and stray +pedestrians (unless in a group) are less liable than a motor to have +a shell spent on them. We climbed under a driving grey sky which +swept gusts of rain across our road. In the lee of the castle we +stopped to look down at the valley of the Moselle, the slate roofs +of Pont-a-Mousson and the broken bridge which once linked +together the two sides of the town. Nothing but the wreck of the +bridge showed that we were on the edge of war. The wind was too high +for firing, and we saw no reason for believing that the wood just +behind the Hospice roof at our feet was seamed with German trenches +and bristling with guns, or that from every slope across the valley +the eye of the cannon sleeplessly glared. But there the Germans +were, drawing an iron ring about three sides of the watch-tower; and +as one peered through an embrasure of the ancient walls one +gradually found one's self re-living the sensations of the little +mediaeval burgh as it looked out on some earlier circle of +besiegers. The longer one looked, the more oppressive and menacing +the invisibility of the foe became. "_There_ they are--and +_there_--and _there._" We strained our eyes obediently, but saw only +calm hillsides, dozing farms. It was as if the earth itself were the +enemy, as if the hordes of evil were in the clods and grass-blades. +Only one conical hill close by showed an odd artificial patterning, +like the work of huge ants who had scarred it with criss-cross +ridges. We were told that these were French trenches, but they +looked much more like the harmless traces of a prehistoric camp. + +Suddenly an officer, pointing to the west of the trenched hill said: +"Do you see that farm?" It lay just below, near the river, and so +close that good eyes could easily have discerned people or animals +in the farm-yard, if there had been any; but the whole place seemed +to be sleeping the sleep of bucolic peace. "_They are there_," the +officer said; and the innocent vignette framed by my field-glass +suddenly glared back at me like a human mask of hate. The loudest +cannonade had not made "them" seem as real as that!... + +At this point the military lines and the old political frontier +everywhere overlap, and in a cleft of the wooded hills that conceal +the German batteries we saw a dark grey blur on the grey horizon. It +was Metz, the Promised City, lying there with its fair steeples and +towers, like the mystic banner that Constantine saw upon the sky... + +Through wet vineyards and orchards we scrambled down the hill to the +river and entered Pont-a-Mousson. It was by mere meteorological good +luck that we got there, for if the winds had been asleep the guns +would have been awake, and when they wake poor Pont-a-Mousson is not +at home to visitors. One understood why as one stood in the riverside +garden of the great Premonstratensian Monastery which is now the +hospital and the general asylum of the town. Between the clipped +limes and formal borders the German shells had scooped out three +or four "dreadful hollows," in one of which, only last week, a +little girl found her death; and the facade of the building is +pock-marked by shot and disfigured with gaping holes. Yet in this +precarious shelter Sister Theresia, of the same indomitable breed as +the Sisters of Clermont and Gerbeviller, has gathered a miscellaneous +flock of soldiers wounded in the trenches, civilians shattered by the +bombardment, eclopes, old women and children: all the human wreckage +of this storm-beaten point of the front. Sister Theresia seems in no +wise disconcerted by the fact that the shells continually play over +her roof. The building is immense and spreading, and when one wing +is damaged she picks up her proteges and trots them off, bed and +baggage, to another. "_Je promene mes malades_," she said calmly, +as if boasting of the varied accommodation of an ultra-modern +hospital, as she led us through vaulted and stuccoed galleries where +caryatid-saints look down in plaster pomp on the rows of +brown-blanketed pallets and the long tables at which haggard eclopes +were enjoying their evening soup. + + +May 15th. + +I have seen the happiest being on earth: a man who has found his +job. + +This afternoon we motored southwest of Nancy to a little place +called Menil-sur-Belvitte. The name is not yet intimately known to +history, but there are reasons why it deserves to be, and in one +man's mind it already is. Menil-sur-Belvitte is a village on the +edge of the Vosges. It is badly battered, for awful fighting took +place there in the first month of the war. The houses lie in a +hollow, and just beyond it the ground rises and spreads into a +plateau waving with wheat and backed by wooded slopes--the ideal +"battleground" of the history-books. And here a real above-ground +battle of the old obsolete kind took place, and the French, driving +the Germans back victoriously, fell by thousands in the trampled +wheat. + +The church of Menil is a ruin, but the parsonage still stands--a +plain little house at the end of the street; and here the cure +received us, and led us into a room which he has turned into a +chapel. The chapel is also a war museum, and everything in it has +something to do with the battle that took place among the +wheat-fields. The candelabra on the altar are made of "Seventy-five" +shells, the Virgin's halo is composed of radiating bayonets, the +walls are intricately adorned with German trophies and French +relics, and on the ceiling the cure has had painted a kind of +zodiacal chart of the whole region, in which Menil-sur-Belvitte's +handful of houses figures as the central orb of the system, and +Verdun, Nancy, Metz, and Belfort as its humble satellites. But the +chapel-museum is only a surplus expression of the cure's impassioned +dedication to the dead. His real work has been done on the +battle-field, where row after row of graves, marked and listed as +soon as the struggle was over, have been fenced about, symmetrically +disposed, planted with flowers and young firs, and marked by the +names and death-dates of the fallen. As he led us from one of these +enclosures to another his face was lit with the flame of a gratified +vocation. This particular man was made to do this particular thing: +he is a born collector, classifier, and hero-worshipper. In the hall +of the "presbytere" hangs a case of carefully-mounted butterflies, +the result, no doubt, of an earlier passion for collecting. His +"specimens" have changed, that is all: he has passed from +butterflies to men, from the actual to the visionary Psyche. + +On the way to Menil we stopped at the village of Crevic. The Germans +were there in August, but the place is untouched--except for one +house. That house, a large one, standing in a park at one end of the +village, was the birth-place and home of General Lyautey, one of +France's best soldiers, and Germany's worst enemy in Africa. It is +no exaggeration to say that last August General Lyautey, by his +promptness and audacity, saved Morocco for France. The Germans know +it, and hate him; and as soon as the first soldiers reached +Crevic--so obscure and imperceptible a spot that even German +omniscience might have missed it--the officer in command asked for +General Lyautey's house, went straight to it, had all the papers, +portraits, furniture and family relics piled in a bonfire in the +court, and then burnt down the house. As we sat in the neglected +park with the plaintive ruin before us we heard from the gardener +this typical tale of German thoroughness and German chivalry. It is +corroborated by the fact that not another house in Crevic was +destroyed. + + +May 16th. + +About two miles from the German frontier (_frontier_ just here as +well as front) an isolated hill rises out of the Lorraine meadows. +East of it, a ribbon of river winds among poplars, and that ribbon +is the boundary between Empire and Republic. On such a clear day as +this the view from the hill is extraordinarily interesting. From its +grassy top a little aeroplane cannon stares to heaven, watching the +east for the danger speck; and the circumference of the hill is +furrowed by a deep trench--a "bowel," rather--winding invisibly from +one subterranean observation post to another. In each of these +earthly warrens (ingeniously wattled, roofed and iron-sheeted) stand +two or three artillery officers with keen quiet faces, directing by +telephone the fire of batteries nestling somewhere in the woods four +or five miles away. Interesting as the place was, the men who lived +there interested me far more. They obviously belonged to different +classes, and had received a different social education; but their +mental and moral fraternity was complete. They were all fairly +young, and their faces had the look that war has given to French +faces: a look of sharpened intelligence, strengthened will and +sobered judgment, as if every faculty, trebly vivified, were so bent +on the one end that personal problems had been pushed back to the +vanishing point of the great perspective. + +From this vigilant height--one of the intentest eyes open on the +frontier--we went a short distance down the hillside to a village +out of range of the guns, where the commanding officer gave us tea +in a charming old house with a terraced garden full of flowers and +puppies. Below the terrace, lost Lorraine stretched away to her blue +heights, a vision of summer peace: and just above us the unsleeping +hill kept watch, its signal-wires trembling night and day. It was +one of the intervals of rest and sweetness when the whole horrible +black business seems to press most intolerably on the nerves. + +Below the village the road wound down to a forest that had formed a +dark blur in our bird's-eye view of the plain. We passed into the +forest and halted on the edge of a colony of queer exotic huts. On +all sides they peeped through the branches, themselves so branched +and sodded and leafy that they seemed like some transition form +between tree and house. We were in one of the so-called "villages +negres" of the second-line trenches, the jolly little settlements to +which the troops retire after doing their shift under fire. This +particular colony has been developed to an extreme degree of comfort +and safety. The houses are partly underground, connected by deep +winding "bowels" over which light rustic bridges have been thrown, +and so profoundly roofed with sods that as much of them as shows +above ground is shell-proof. Yet they are real houses, with real +doors and windows under their grass-eaves, real furniture inside, +and real beds of daisies and pansies at their doors. In the +Colonel's bungalow a big bunch of spring flowers bloomed on the +table, and everywhere we saw the same neatness and order, the same +amused pride in the look of things. The men were dining at long +trestle-tables under the trees; tired, unshaven men in shabby +uniforms of all cuts and almost every colour. They were off duty, +relaxed, in a good humour; but every face had the look of the faces +watching on the hill-top. Wherever I go among these men of the front +I have the same impression: the impression that the absorbing +undivided thought of the Defense of France lives in the heart and +brain of each soldier as intensely as in the heart and brain of +their chief. + +We walked a dozen yards down the road and came to the edge of the +forest. A wattled palisade bounded it, and through a gap in the +palisade we looked out across a field to the roofs of a quiet +village a mile away. I went out a few steps into the field and was +abruptly pulled back. "Take care--those are the trenches!" What +looked like a ridge thrown up by a plough was the enemy's line; and +in the quiet village French cannon watched. Suddenly, as we stood +there, they woke, and at the same moment we heard the unmistakable +Gr-r-r of an aeroplane and saw a Bird of Evil high up against the +blue. Snap, snap, snap barked the mitrailleuse on the hill, the +soldiers jumped from their wine and strained their eyes through the +trees, and the Taube, finding itself the centre of so much +attention, turned grey tail and swished away to the concealing +clouds. + + +May 17th. + +Today we started with an intenser sense of adventure. Hitherto we +had always been told beforehand where we were going and how much we +were to be allowed to see; but now we were being launched into the +unknown. Beyond a certain point all was conjecture--we knew only +that what happened after that would depend on the good-will of a +Colonel of Chasseurs-a-pied whom we were to go a long way to +find, up into the folds of the mountains on our southeast horizon. + +We picked up a staff-officer at Head-quarters and flew on to a +battered town on the edge of the hills. From there we wound up +through a narrowing valley, under wooded cliffs, to a little +settlement where the Colonel of the Brigade was to be found. There +was a short conference between the Colonel and our staff-officer, +and then we annexed a Captain of Chasseurs and spun away again. Our +road lay through a town so exposed that our companion from +Head-quarters suggested the advisability of avoiding it; but our +guide hadn't the heart to inflict such a disappointment on his new +acquaintances. "Oh, we won't stop the motor--we'll just dash +through," he said indulgently; and in the excess of his indulgence +he even permitted us to dash slowly. + +Oh, that poor town--when we reached it, along a road ploughed with +fresh obus-holes, I didn't want to stop the motor; I wanted to hurry +on and blot the picture from my memory! It was doubly sad to look at +because of the fact that it wasn't _quite dead;_ faint spasms of +life still quivered through it. A few children played in the ravaged +streets; a few pale mothers watched them from cellar doorways. "They +oughtn't to be here," our guide explained; "but about a hundred and +fifty begged so hard to stay that the General gave them leave. The +officer in command has an eye on them, and whenever he gives the +signal they dive down into their burrows. He says they are perfectly +obedient. It was he who asked that they might stay..." + +Up and up into the hills. The vision of human pain and ruin was lost +in beauty. We were among the firs, and the air was full of balm. The +mossy banks gave out a scent of rain, and little water-falls from +the heights set the branches trembling over secret pools. At each +turn of the road, forest, and always more forest, climbing with us +as we climbed, and dropped away from us to narrow valleys that +converged on slate-blue distances. At one of these turns we overtook +a company of soldiers, spade on shoulder and bags of tools across +their backs--"trench-workers" swinging up to the heights to which we +were bound. Life must be a better thing in this crystal air than in +the mud-welter of the Argonne and the fogs of the North; and these +men's faces were fresh with wind and weather. + +Higher still ... and presently a halt on a ridge, in another +"black village," this time almost a town! The soldiers gathered +round us as the motor stopped--throngs of chasseurs-a-pied in +faded, trench-stained uniforms--for few visitors climb to this +point, and their pleasure at the sight of new faces was presently +expressed in a large "_Vive l'Amerique!_" scrawled on the door of +the car. _L'Amerique_ was glad and proud to be there, and instantly +conscious of breathing an air saturated with courage and the dogged +determination to endure. The men were all reservists: that is to +say, mostly married, and all beyond the first fighting age. For many +months there has not been much active work along this front, no +great adventure to rouse the blood and wing the imagination: it has +just been month after month of monotonous watching and holding on. +And the soldiers' faces showed it: there was no light of heady +enterprise in their eyes, but the look of men who knew their job, +had thought it over, and were there to hold their bit of France till +the day of victory or extermination. + +Meanwhile, they had made the best of the situation and turned their +quarters into a forest colony that would enchant any normal boy. +Their village architecture was more elaborate than any we had yet +seen. In the Colonel's "dugout" a long table decked with lilacs and +tulips was spread for tea. In other cheery catacombs we found neat +rows of bunks, mess-tables, sizzling sauce-pans over kitchen-fires. +Everywhere were endless ingenuities in the way of camp-furniture and +household decoration. Farther down the road a path between +fir-boughs led to a hidden hospital, a marvel of underground +compactness. While we chatted with the surgeon a soldier came in +from the trenches: an elderly, bearded man, with a good average +civilian face--the kind that one runs against by hundreds in any +French crowd. He had a scalp-wound which had just been dressed, and +was very pale. The Colonel stopped to ask a few questions, and then, +turning to him, said: "Feeling rather better now?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Good. In a day or two you'll be thinking about going back to the +trenches, eh?" + +"_I'm going now, sir._" It was said quite simply, and received in +the same way. "Oh, all right," the Colonel merely rejoined; but he +laid his hand on the man's shoulder as we went out. + +Our next visit was to a sod-thatched hut, "At the sign of the +Ambulant Artisans," where two or three soldiers were modelling and +chiselling all kinds of trinkets from the aluminum of enemy shells. +One of the ambulant artisans was just finishing a ring with +beautifully modelled fauns' heads, another offered me a +"Pickelhaube" small enough for Mustard-seed's wear, but complete in +every detail, and inlaid with the bronze eagle from an Imperial +pfennig. There are many such ringsmiths among the privates at the +front, and the severe, somewhat archaic design of their rings is a +proof of the sureness of French taste; but the two we visited +happened to be Paris jewellers, for whom "artisan" was really too +modest a pseudonym. Officers and men were evidently proud of their +work, and as they stood hammering away in their cramped smithy, a +red gleam lighting up the intentness of their faces, they seemed to +be beating out the cheerful rhythm of "I too will something make, +and joy in the making."... + +Up the hillside, in deeper shadow, was another little structure; a +wooden shed with an open gable sheltering an altar with candles and +flowers. Here mass is said by one of the conscript priests of the +regiment, while his congregation kneel between the fir-trunks, +giving life to the old metaphor of the cathedral-forest. Near by was +the grave-yard, where day by day these quiet elderly men lay their +comrades, the _peres de famille_ who don't go back. The care of this +woodland cemetery is left entirely to the soldiers, and they have +spent treasures of piety on the inscriptions and decorations of the +graves. Fresh flowers are brought up from the valleys to cover them, +and when some favourite comrade goes, the men scorning ephemeral +tributes, club together to buy a monstrous indestructible wreath +with emblazoned streamers. It was near the end of the afternoon, and +many soldiers were strolling along the paths between the graves. +"It's their favourite walk at this hour," the Colonel said. He +stopped to look down on a grave smothered in beady tokens, the grave +of the last pal to fall. "He was mentioned in the Order of the Day," +the Colonel explained; and the group of soldiers standing near +looked at us proudly, as if sharing their comrade's honour, and +wanting to be sure that we understood the reason of their pride... + +"And now," said our Captain of Chasseurs, "that you've seen the +second-line trenches, what do you say to taking a look at the +first?" + +We followed him to a point higher up the hill, where we plunged into +a deep ditch of red earth--the "bowel" leading to the first lines. +It climbed still higher, under the wet firs, and then, turning, +dipped over the edge and began to wind in sharp loops down the other +side of the ridge. Down we scrambled, single file, our chins on a +level with the top of the passage, the close green covert above us. +The "bowel" went twisting down more and more sharply into a deep +ravine; and presently, at a bend, we came to a fir-thatched outlook, +where a soldier stood with his back to us, his eye glued to a +peep-hole in the wattled wall. Another turn, and another outlook; +but here it was the iron-rimmed eye of the mitrailleuse that stared +across the ravine. By this time we were within a hundred yards or so +of the German lines, hidden, like ours, on the other side of the +narrowing hollow; and as we stole down and down, the hush and +secrecy of the scene, and the sense of that imminent lurking hatred +only a few branch-lengths away, seemed to fill the silence with +mysterious pulsations. Suddenly a sharp noise broke on them: the rap +of a rifle-shot against a tree-trunk a few yards ahead. + +"Ah, the sharp-shooter," said our guide. "No more talking, +please--he's over there, in a tree somewhere, and whenever he hears +voices he fires. Some day we shall spot his tree." + +We went on in silence to a point where a few soldiers were sitting +on a ledge of rock in a widening of the "bowel." They looked as +quiet as if they had been waiting for their bocks before a Boulevard +cafe. + +"Not beyond, please," said the officer, holding me back; and I +stopped. + +Here we were, then, actually and literally in the first lines! The +knowledge made one's heart tick a little; but, except for another +shot or two from our arboreal listener, and the motionless +intentness of the soldier's back at the peep-hole, there was nothing +to show that we were not a dozen miles away. + +Perhaps the thought occurred to our Captain of Chasseurs; for just +as I was turning back he said with his friendliest twinkle: "Do you +want awfully to go a little farther? Well, then, come on." + +We went past the soldiers sitting on the ledge and stole down and +down, to where the trees ended at the bottom of the ravine. The +sharp-shooter had stopped firing, and nothing disturbed the leafy +silence but an intermittent drip of rain. We were at the end of the +burrow, and the Captain signed to me that I might take a cautious +peep round its corner. I looked out and saw a strip of intensely +green meadow just under me, and a wooded cliff rising abruptly on +its other side. That was all. The wooded cliff swarmed with "them," +and a few steps would have carried us across the interval; yet all +about us was silence, and the peace of the forest. Again, for a +minute, I had the sense of an all-pervading, invisible power of +evil, a saturation of the whole landscape with some hidden vitriol +of hate. Then the reaction of the unbelief set in, and I felt myself +in a harmless ordinary glen, like a million others on an untroubled +earth. We turned and began to climb again, loop by loop, up the +"bowel"--we passed the lolling soldiers, the silent mitrailleuse, we +came again to the watcher at his peep-hole. He heard us, let the +officer pass, and turned his head with a little sign of +understanding. + +"Do you want to look down?" + +He moved a step away from his window. The look-out projected over +the ravine, raking its depths; and here, with one's eye to the +leaf-lashed hole, one saw at last ... saw, at the bottom of the +harmless glen, half way between cliff and cliff, a grey uniform +huddled in a dead heap. "He's been there for days: they can't fetch +him away," said the watcher, regluing his eye to the hole; and it +was almost a relief to find it was after all a tangible enemy hidden +over there across the meadow... + +The sun had set when we got back to our starting-point in the +underground village. The chasseurs-a-pied were lounging along +the roadside and standing in gossiping groups about the motor. It +was long since they had seen faces from the other life, the life +they had left nearly a year earlier and had not been allowed to go +back to for a day; and under all their jokes and good-humour their +farewell had a tinge of wistfulness. But one felt that this fugitive +reminder of a world they had put behind them would pass like a +dream, and their minds revert without effort to the one reality: the +business of holding their bit of France. + +It is hard to say why this sense of the French soldier's +single-mindedness is so strong in all who have had even a glimpse of +the front; perhaps it is gathered less from what the men say than +from the look in their eyes. Even while they are accepting +cigarettes and exchanging trench-jokes, the look is there; and when +one comes on them unaware it is there also. In the dusk of the +forest that look followed us down the mountain; and as we skirted +the edge of the ravine between the armies, we felt that on the far +side of that dividing line were the men who had made the war, and on +the near side the men who had been made by it. + + + + +IN THE NORTH + + +June 19th, 1915. + +On the way from Doullens to Montreuil-sur-Mer, on a shining summer +afternoon. A road between dusty hedges, choked, literally strangled, +by a torrent of westward-streaming troops of all arms. Every few +minutes there would come a break in the flow, and our motor would +wriggle through, advance a few yards, and be stopped again by a +widening of the torrent that jammed us into the ditch and splashed a +dazzle of dust into our eyes. The dust was stifling--but through it, +what a sight! + +Standing up in the car and looking back, we watched the river of war +wind toward us. Cavalry, artillery, lancers, infantry, sappers and +miners, trench-diggers, road-makers, stretcher-bearers, they swept +on as smoothly as if in holiday order. Through the dust, the sun +picked out the flash of lances and the gloss of chargers' flanks, +flushed rows and rows of determined faces, found the least touch of +gold on faded uniforms, silvered the sad grey of mitrailleuses and +munition waggons. Close as the men were, they seemed allegorically +splendid: as if, under the arch of the sunset, we had been watching +the whole French army ride straight into glory... + +Finally we left the last detachment behind, and had the country to +ourselves. The disfigurement of war has not touched the fields of +Artois. The thatched farmhouses dozed in gardens full of roses and +hollyhocks, and the hedges above the duck-ponds were weighed down +with layers of elder-blossom. On all sides wheat-fields skirted with +woodland went billowing away under the breezy light that seemed to +carry a breath of the Atlantic on its beams. The road ran up and +down as if our motor were a ship on a deep-sea swell; and such a +sense of space and light was in the distances, such a veil of beauty +over the whole world, that the vision of that army on the move grew +more and more fabulous and epic. + +The sun had set and the sea-twilight was rolling in when we dipped +down from the town of Montreuil to the valley below, where the +towers of an ancient abbey-church rise above terraced orchards. The +gates at the end of the avenue were thrown open, and the motor drove +into a monastery court full of box and roses. Everything was sweet +and secluded in this mediaeval place; and from the shadow of +cloisters and arched passages groups of nuns fluttered out, nuns all +black or all white, gliding, peering and standing at gaze. It was as +if we had plunged back into a century to which motors were unknown +and our car had been some monster cast up from a Barbary shipwreck; +and the startled attitudes of these holy women did credit to their +sense of the picturesque; for the Abbey of Neuville is now a great +Belgian hospital, and such monsters must frequently intrude on its +seclusion... + +Sunset, and summer dusk, and the moon. Under the monastery windows a +walled garden with stone pavilions at the angles and the drip of a +fountain. Below it, tiers of orchard-terraces fading into a great +moon-confused plain that might be either fields or sea... + + +June 20th. + +Today our way ran northeast, through a landscape so English that +there was no incongruity in the sprinkling of khaki along the road. +Even the villages look English: the same plum-red brick of tidy +self-respecting houses, neat, demure and freshly painted, the +gardens all bursting with flowers, the landscape hedgerowed and +willowed and fed with water-courses, the people's faces square and +pink and honest, and the signs over the shops in a language half way +between English and German. Only the architecture of the towns is +French, of a reserved and robust northern type, but unmistakably in +the same great tradition. + +War still seemed so far off that one had time for these digressions +as the motor flew on over the undulating miles. But presently we +came on an aviation camp spreading its sheds over a wide plateau. +Here the khaki throng was thicker and the familiar military stir +enlivened the landscape. A few miles farther, and we found ourselves +in what was seemingly a big English town oddly grouped about a +nucleus of French churches. This was St. Omer, grey, spacious, +coldly clean in its Sunday emptiness. At the street crossings +English sentries stood mechanically directing the absent traffic +with gestures familiar to Piccadilly; and the signs of the British +Red Cross and St. John's Ambulance hung on club-like facades that +might almost have claimed a home in Pall Mall. + +The Englishness of things was emphasized, as we passed out through +the suburbs, by the look of the crowd on the canal bridges and along +the roads. Every nation has its own way of loitering, and there is +nothing so unlike the French way as the English. Even if all these +tall youths had not been in khaki, and the girls with them so pink +and countrified, one would instantly have recognized the passive +northern way of letting a holiday soak in instead of squeezing out +its juices with feverish fingers. + +When we turned westward from St. Omer, across the same pastures and +watercourses, we were faced by two hills standing up abruptly out of +the plain; and on the top of one rose the walls and towers of a +compact little mediaeval town. As we took the windings that led up +to it a sense of Italy began to penetrate the persistent impression +of being somewhere near the English Channel. The town we were +approaching might have been a queer dream-blend of Winchelsea and +San Gimignano; but when we entered the gates of Cassel we were in a +place so intensely itself that all analogies dropped out of mind. + +It was not surprising to learn from the guide-book that Cassel has +the most extensive view of any town in Europe: one felt at once that +it differed in all sorts of marked and self-assertive ways from +every other town, and would be almost sure to have the best things +going in every line. And the line of an illimitable horizon is +exactly the best to set off its own quaint compactness. + +We found our hotel in the most perfect of little market squares, +with a Renaissance town-hall on one side, and on the other a +miniature Spanish palace with a front of rosy brick adorned by grey +carvings. The square was crowded with English army motors and +beautiful prancing chargers; and the restaurant of the inn (which +has the luck to face the pink and grey palace) swarmed with khaki +tea-drinkers turning indifferent shoulders to the widest view in +Europe. It is one of the most detestable things about war that +everything connected with it, except the death and ruin that result, +is such a heightening of life, so visually stimulating and +absorbing. "It was gay and terrible," is the phrase forever +recurring in "War and Peace"; and the gaiety of war was everywhere +in Cassel, transforming the lifeless little town into a romantic +stage-setting full of the flash of arms and the virile animation of +young faces. + +From the park on top of the hill we looked down on another picture. +All about us was the plain, its distant rim merged in northern +sea-mist; and through the mist, in the glitter of the afternoon sun, +far-off towns and shadowy towers lay steeped, as it seemed, in +summer quiet. For a moment, while we looked, the vision of war +shrivelled up like a painted veil; then we caught the names +pronounced by a group of English soldiers leaning over the parapet +at our side. "That's Dunkerque"--one of them pointed it out with his +pipe--"and there's Poperinghe, just under us; that's Furnes beyond, +and Ypres and Dixmude, and Nieuport..." And at the mention of +those names the scene grew dark again, and we felt the passing of +the Angel to whom was given the Key of the Bottomless Pit. + +That night we went up once more to the rock of Cassel. The moon was +full, and as civilians are not allowed out alone after dark a +staff-officer went with us to show us the view from the roof of the +disused Casino on top of the rock. It was the queerest of sensations +to push open a glazed door and find ourselves in a spectral painted +room with soldiers dozing in the moonlight on polished floors, their +kits stacked on the gaming tables. We passed through a big vestibule +among more soldiers lounging in the half-light, and up a long +staircase to the roof where a watcher challenged us and then let us +go to the edge of the parapet. Directly below lay the unlit mass of +the town. To the northwest a single sharp hill, the "Mont des Cats," +stood out against the sky; the rest of the horizon was unbroken, and +floating in misty moonlight. The outline of the ruined towns had +vanished and peace seemed to have won back the world. But as we +stood there a red flash started out of the mist far off to the +northwest; then another and another flickered up at different points +of the long curve. "Luminous bombs thrown up along the lines," our +guide explained; and just then, at still another point a white light +opened like a tropical flower, spread to full bloom and drew itself +back into the night. "A flare," we were told; and another white +flower bloomed out farther down. Below us, the roofs of Cassel slept +their provincial sleep, the moonlight picking out every leaf in the +gardens; while beyond, those infernal flowers continued to open and +shut along the curve of death. + + +June 21st. + +On the road from Cassel to Poperinghe. Heat, dust, crowds, +confusion, all the sordid shabby rear-view of war. The road running +across the plain between white-powdered hedges was ploughed up by +numberless motor-vans, supply-waggons and Red Cross ambulances. +Labouring through between them came detachments of British +artillery, clattering gun-carriages, straight young figures on +glossy horses, long Phidian lines of youths so ingenuously fair that +one wondered how they could have looked on the Medusa face of war +and lived. Men and beasts, in spite of the dust, were as fresh and +sleek as if they had come from a bath; and everywhere along the +wayside were improvised camps, with tents made of waggon-covers, +where the ceaseless indomitable work of cleaning was being carried +out in all its searching details. Shirts were drying on +elder-bushes, kettles boiling over gypsy fires, men shaving, +blacking their boots, cleaning their guns, rubbing down their +horses, greasing their saddles, polishing their stirrups and bits: +on all sides a general cheery struggle against the prevailing dust, +discomfort and disorder. Here and there a young soldier leaned +against a garden paling to talk to a girl among the hollyhocks, or +an older soldier initiated a group of children into some mystery of +military housekeeping; and everywhere were the same signs of +friendly inarticulate understanding with the owners of the fields +and gardens. + +From the thronged high-road we passed into the emptiness of deserted +Poperinghe, and out again on the way to Ypres. Beyond the flats and +wind-mills to our left were the invisible German lines, and the +staff-officer who was with us leaned forward to caution our +chauffeur: "No tooting between here and Ypres." There was still a +good deal of movement on the road, though it was less crowded with +troops than near Poperinghe; but as we passed through the last +village and approached the low line of houses ahead, the silence and +emptiness widened about us. That low line was Ypres; every monument +that marked it, that gave it an individual outline, is gone. It is a +town without a profile. + +The motor slipped through a suburb of small brick houses and stopped +under cover of some slightly taller buildings. Another military +motor waited there, the chauffeur relic-hunting in the gutted +houses. + +We got out and walked toward the centre of the Cloth Market. We had +seen evacuated towns--Verdun, Badonviller, Raon-l'Etape--but we had +seen no emptiness like this. Not a human being was in the streets. +Endless lines of houses looked down on us from vacant windows. Our +footsteps echoed like the tramp of a crowd, our lowered voices +seemed to shout. In one street we came on three English soldiers who +were carrying a piano out of a house and lifting it onto a +hand-cart. They stopped to stare at us, and we stared back. It +seemed an age since we had seen a living being! One of the soldiers +scrambled into the cart and tapped out a tune on the cracked +key-board, and we all laughed with relief at the foolish noise... +Then we walked on and were alone again. + +We had seen other ruined towns, but none like this. The towns of +Lorraine were blown up, burnt down, deliberately erased from the +earth. At worst they are like stone-yards, at best like Pompeii. But +Ypres has been bombarded to death, and the outer walls of its houses +are still standing, so that it presents the distant semblance of a +living city, while near by it is seen to be a disembowelled corpse. +Every window-pane is smashed, nearly every building unroofed, and +some house-fronts are sliced clean off, with the different stories +exposed, as if for the stage-setting of a farce. In these exposed +interiors the poor little household gods shiver and blink like owls +surprised in a hollow tree. A hundred signs of intimate and humble +tastes, of humdrum pursuits, of family association, cling to the +unmasked walls. Whiskered photographs fade on morning-glory +wallpapers, plaster saints pine under glass bells, antimacassars +droop from plush sofas, yellowing diplomas display their seals on +office walls. It was all so still and familiar that it seemed as if +the people for whom these things had a meaning might at any moment +come back and take up their daily business. And then--crash! the +guns began, slamming out volley after volley all along the English +lines, and the poor frail web of things that had made up the lives +of a vanished city-full hung dangling before us in that deathly +blast. + +We had just reached the square before the Cathedral when the +cannonade began, and its roar seemed to build a roof of iron over +the glorious ruins of Ypres. The singular distinction of the city is +that it is destroyed but not abased. The walls of the Cathedral, the +long bulk of the Cloth Market, still lift themselves above the +market place with a majesty that seems to silence compassion. The +sight of those facades, so proud in death, recalled a phrase used +soon after the fall of Liege by Belgium's Foreign Minister--"_La +Belgique ne regrette rien_ "--which ought some day to serve as the +motto of the renovated city. + +We were turning to go when we heard a whirr overhead, followed by a +volley of mitrailleuse. High up in the blue, over the centre of the +dead city, flew a German aeroplane; and all about it hundreds of +white shrapnel tufts burst out in the summer sky like the miraculous +snow-fall of Italian legend. Up and up they flew, on the trail of +the Taube, and on flew the Taube, faster still, till quarry and pack +were lost in mist, and the barking of the mitrailleuse died out. So +we left Ypres to the death-silence in which we had found her. + +The afternoon carried us back to Poperinghe, where I was bound on a +quest for lace-cushions of the special kind required by our Flemish +refugees. The model is unobtainable in France, and I had been +told--with few and vague indications--that I might find the cushions +in a certain convent of the city. But in which? + +Poperinghe, though little injured, is almost empty. In its tidy +desolation it looks like a town on which a wicked enchanter has laid +a spell. We roamed from quarter to quarter, hunting for some one to +show us the way to the convent I was looking for, till at last a +passer-by led us to a door which seemed the right one. At our knock +the bars were drawn and a cloistered face looked out. No, there were +no cushions there; and the nun had never heard of the order we +named. But there were the Penitents, the Benedictines--we might try. +Our guide offered to show us the way and we went on. From one or two +windows, wondering heads looked out and vanished; but the streets +were lifeless. At last we came to a convent where there were no nuns +left, but where, the caretaker told us, there were cushions--a great +many. He led us through pale blue passages, up cold stairs, through +rooms that smelt of linen and lavender. We passed a chapel with +plaster saints in white niches above paper flowers. Everything was +cold and bare and blank: like a mind from which memory has gone. We +came to a class room with lines of empty benches facing a +blue-mantled Virgin; and here, on the floor, lay rows and rows of +lace-cushions. On each a bit of lace had been begun--and there they +had been dropped when nuns and pupils fled. They had not been left +in disorder: the rows had been laid out evenly, a handkerchief +thrown over each cushion. And that orderly arrest of life seemed +sadder than any scene of disarray. It symbolized the senseless +paralysis of a whole nation's activities. Here were a houseful of +women and children, yesterday engaged in a useful task and now +aimlessly astray over the earth. And in hundreds of such houses, in +dozens, in hundreds of open towns, the hand of time had been +stopped, the heart of life had ceased to beat, all the currents of +hope and happiness and industry been choked--not that some great +military end might be gained, or the length of the war curtailed, +but that, wherever the shadow of Germany falls, all things should +wither at the root. + +The same sight met us everywhere that afternoon. Over Furnes and +Bergues, and all the little intermediate villages, the evil shadow +lay. Germany had willed that these places should die, and wherever +her bombs could not reach her malediction had carried. Only Biblical +lamentation can convey a vision of this life-drained land. "Your +country is desolate; your cities are burned with fire; your land, +strangers devour it in your presence, and it is desolate, as +overthrown by strangers." + +Late in the afternoon we came to Dunkerque, lying peacefully between +its harbour and canals. The bombardment of the previous month had +emptied it, and though no signs of damage were visible the same +spellbound air lay over everything. As we sat alone at tea in the +hall of the hotel on the Place Jean Bart, and looked out on the +silent square and its lifeless shops and cafes, some one suggested +that the hotel would be a convenient centre for the excursions we +had planned, and we decided to return there the next evening. Then +we motored back to Cassel. + + +June 22nd. + +My first waking thought was: "How time flies! It must be the +Fourteenth of July!" I knew it could not be the Fourth of that +specially commemorative month, because I was just awake enough to be +sure I was not in America; and the only other event to justify such +a terrific clatter was the French national anniversary. I sat up and +listened to the popping of guns till a completed sense of reality +stole over me, and I realized that I was in the inn of the Wild Man +at Cassel, and that it was not the fourteenth of July but the +twenty-second of June. + +Then, what--? A Taube, of course! And all the guns in the place were +cracking at it! By the time this mental process was complete, I had +scrambled up and hurried downstairs and, unbolting the heavy doors, +had rushed out into the square. It was about four in the morning, +the heavenliest moment of a summer dawn, and in spite of the tumult +Cassel still apparently slept. Only a few soldiers stood in the +square, looking up at a drift of white cloud behind which--they +averred--a Taube had just slipped out of sight. Cassel was evidently +used to Taubes, and I had the sense of having overdone my excitement +and not being exactly in tune; so after gazing a moment at the white +cloud I slunk back into the hotel, barred the door and mounted to my +room. At a window on the stairs I paused to look out over the +sloping roofs of the town, the gardens, the plain; and suddenly +there was another crash and a drift of white smoke blew up from the +fruit-trees just under the window. It was a last shot at the +fugitive, from a gun hidden in one of those quiet provincial gardens +between the houses; and its secret presence there was more startling +than all the clatter of mitrailleuses from the rock. + +Silence and sleep came down again on Cassel; but an hour or two +later the hush was broken by a roar like the last trump. This time +it was no question of mitrailleuses. The Wild Man rocked on its +base, and every pane in my windows beat a tattoo. What was that +incredible unimagined sound? Why, it could be nothing, of course, +but the voice of the big siege-gun of Dixmude! Five times, while I +was dressing, the thunder shook my windows, and the air was filled +with a noise that may be compared--if the human imagination can +stand the strain--to the simultaneous closing of all the iron +shop-shutters in the world. The odd part was that, as far as the +Wild Man and its inhabitants were concerned, no visible effects +resulted, and dressing, packing and coffee-drinking went on +comfortably in the strange parentheses between the roars. + +We set off early for a neighbouring Head-quarters, and it was not +till we turned out of the gates of Cassel that we came on signs of +the bombardment: the smashing of a gas-house and the converting of a +cabbage-field into a crater which, for some time to come, will spare +photographers the trouble of climbing Vesuvius. There was a certain +consolation in the discrepancy between the noise and the damage +done. + +At Head-quarters we learned more of the morning's incidents. +Dunkerque, it appeared, had first been visited by the Taube which +afterward came to take the range of Cassel; and the big gun of +Dixmude had then turned all its fury on the French sea-port. The +bombardment of Dunkuerque was still going on; and we were asked, and +in fact bidden, to give up our plan of going there for the night. + +After luncheon we turned north, toward the dunes. The villages we +drove through were all evacuated, some quite lifeless, others +occupied by troops. Presently we came to a group of military motors +drawn up by the roadside, and a field black with wheeling troops. +"Admiral Ronarc'h!" our companion from Head-quarters exclaimed; and +we understood that we had had the good luck to come on the hero of +Dixmude in the act of reviewing the marine fusiliers and +territorials whose magnificent defense of last October gave that +much-besieged town another lease of glory. + +We stopped the motor and climbed to a ridge above the field. A high +wind was blowing, bringing with it the booming of the guns along the +front. A sun half-veiled in sand-dust shone on pale meadows, sandy +flats, grey wind-mills. The scene was deserted, except for the +handful of troops deploying before the officers on the edge of the +field. Admiral Ronarc'h, white-gloved and in full-dress uniform, +stood a little in advance, a young naval officer at his side. He had +just been distributing decorations to his fusiliers and +territorials, and they were marching past him, flags flying and +bugles playing. Every one of those men had a record of heroism, and +every face in those ranks had looked on horrors unnameable. They had +lost Dixmude--for a while--but they had gained great glory, and the +inspiration of their epic resistance had come from the quiet officer +who stood there, straight and grave, in his white gloves and gala +uniform. + +One must have been in the North to know something of the tie that +exists, in this region of bitter and continuous fighting, between +officers and soldiers. The feeling of the chiefs is almost one of +veneration for their men; that of the soldiers, a kind of +half-humorous tenderness for the officers who have faced such odds +with them. This mutual regard reveals itself in a hundred +undefinable ways; but its fullest expression is in the tone with +which the commanding officers speak the two words oftenest on their +lips: "My men." + +The little review over, we went on to Admiral Ronarc'h's quarters in +the dunes, and thence, after a brief visit, to another brigade +Head-quarters. We were in a region of sandy hillocks feathered by +tamarisk, and interspersed with poplar groves slanting like wheat in +the wind. Between these meagre thickets the roofs of seaside +bungalows showed above the dunes; and before one of these we +stopped, and were led into a sitting-room full of maps and aeroplane +photographs. One of the officers of the brigade telephoned to ask if +the way was clear to Nieuport; and the answer was that we might go +on. + +Our road ran through the "Bois Triangulaire," a bit of woodland +exposed to constant shelling. Half the poor spindling trees were +down, and patches of blackened undergrowth and ragged hollows marked +the path of the shells. If the trees of a cannonaded wood are of +strong inland growth their fallen trunks have the majesty of a +ruined temple; but there was something humanly pitiful in the frail +trunks of the Bois Triangulaire, lying there like slaughtered rows +of immature troops. + +A few miles more brought us to Nieuport, most lamentable of the +victim towns. It is not empty as Ypres is empty: troops are +quartered in the cellars, and at the approach of our motor knots of +cheerful zouaves came swarming out of the ground like ants. But +Ypres is majestic in death, poor Nieuport gruesomely comic. About +its splendid nucleus of mediaeval architecture a modern town had +grown up; and nothing stranger can be pictured than the contrast +between the streets of flimsy houses, twisted like curl-papers, and +the ruins of the Gothic Cathedral and the Cloth Market. It is like +passing from a smashed toy to the survival of a prehistoric +cataclysm. + +Modern Nieuport seems to have died in a colic. No less homely image +expresses the contractions and contortions of the houses reaching +out the appeal of their desperate chimney-pots and agonized girders. +There is one view along the exterior of the town like nothing else +on the warfront. On the left, a line of palsied houses leads up like +a string of crutch-propped beggars to the mighty ruin of the +Templars' Tower; on the right the flats reach away to the almost +imperceptible humps of masonry that were once the villages of St. +Georges, Ramscappelle, Pervyse. And over it all the incessant crash +of the guns stretches a sounding-board of steel. + +In front of the cathedral a German shell has dug a crater thirty +feet across, overhung by splintered tree-trunks, burnt shrubs, vague +mounds of rubbish; and a few steps beyond lies the peacefullest spot +in Nieuport, the grave-yard where the zouaves have buried their +comrades. The dead are laid in rows under the flank of the +cathedral, and on their carefully set grave-stones have been placed +collections of pious images gathered from the ruined houses. Some of +the most privileged are guarded by colonies of plaster saints and +Virgins that cover the whole slab; and over the handsomest Virgins +and the most gaily coloured saints the soldiers have placed the +glass bells that once protected the parlour clocks and wedding-wreaths +in the same houses. + +From sad Nieuport we motored on to a little seaside colony where +gaiety prevails. Here the big hotels and the adjoining villas along +the beach are filled with troops just back from the trenches: it is +one of the "rest cures" of the front. When we drove up, the regiment +"au repos" was assembled in the wide sandy space between the +principal hotels, and in the centre of the jolly crowd the band was +playing. The Colonel and his officers stood listening to the music, +and presently the soldiers broke into the wild "chanson des zouaves" +of the --th zouaves. It was the strangest of sights to watch that +throng of dusky merry faces under their red fezes against the +background of sunless northern sea. When the music was over some one +with a kodak suggested "a group": we struck a collective attitude on +one of the hotel terraces, and just as the camera was being aimed at +us the Colonel turned and drew into the foreground a little grinning +pock-marked soldier. "He's just been decorated--he's got to be in +the group." A general exclamation of assent from the other officers, +and a protest from the hero: "Me? Why, my ugly mug will smash the +plate!" But it didn't-- + +Reluctantly we turned from this interval in the day's sad round, and +took the road to La Panne. Dust, dunes, deserted villages: my memory +keeps no more definite vision of the run. But at sunset we came on a +big seaside colony stretched out above the longest beach I ever saw: +along the sea-front, an esplanade bordered by the usual foolish +villas, and behind it a single street filled with hotels and shops. +All the life of the desert region we had traversed seemed to have +taken refuge at La Panne. The long street was swarming with throngs +of dark-uniformed Belgian soldiers, every shop seemed to be doing a +thriving trade, and the hotels looked as full as beehives. + + +June 23rd LA PANNE. + +The particular hive that has taken us in is at the extreme end of +the esplanade, where asphalt and iron railings lapse abruptly into +sand and sea-grass. When I looked out of my window this morning I +saw only the endless stretch of brown sand against the grey roll of +the Northern Ocean and, on a crest of the dunes, the figure of a +solitary sentinel. But presently there was a sound of martial music, +and long lines of troops came marching along the esplanade and down +to the beach. The sands stretched away to east and west, a great +"field of Mars" on which an army could have manoeuvred; and the +morning exercises of cavalry and infantry began. Against the brown +beach the regiments in their dark uniforms looked as black as +silhouettes; and the cavalry galloping by in single file suggested a +black frieze of warriors encircling the dun-coloured flanks of an +Etruscan vase. For hours these long-drawn-out movements of troops +went on, to the wail of bugles, and under the eye of the lonely +sentinel on the sand-crest; then the soldiers poured back into the +town, and La Panne was once more a busy common-place _bain-de-mer_. +The common-placeness, however, was only on the surface; for as one +walked along the esplanade one discovered that the town had become a +citadel, and that all the doll's-house villas with their silly +gables and sillier names--"Seaweed," "The Sea-gull," "Mon Repos," +and the rest--were really a continuous line of barracks swarming +with Belgian troops. In the main street there were hundreds of +soldiers, pottering along in couples, chatting in groups, romping +and wrestling like a crowd of school-boys, or bargaining in the +shops for shell-work souvenirs and sets of post-cards; and between +the dark-green and crimson uniforms was a frequent sprinkling of +khaki, with the occasional pale blue of a French officer's tunic. + +Before luncheon we motored over to Dunkerque. The road runs along +the canal, between grass-flats and prosperous villages. No signs of +war were noticeable except on the road, which was crowded with motor +vans, ambulances and troops. The walls and gates of Dunkerque rose +before us as calm and undisturbed as when we entered the town the +day before yesterday. But within the gates we were in a desert. The +bombardment had ceased the previous evening, but a death-hush lay on +the town, Every house was shuttered and the streets were empty. We +drove to the Place Jean Bart, where two days ago we sat at tea in +the hall of the hotel. Now there was not a whole pane of glass in +the windows of the square, the doors of the hotel were closed, and +every now and then some one came out carrying a basketful of plaster +from fallen ceilings. The whole surface of the square was literally +paved with bits of glass from the hundreds of broken windows, and at +the foot of David's statue of Jean Bart, just where our motor had +stood while we had tea, the siege-gun of Dixmude had scooped out a +hollow as big as the crater at Nieuport. + +Though not a house on the square was touched, the scene was one of +unmitigated desolation. It was the first time we had seen the raw +wounds of a bombardment, and the freshness of the havoc seemed to +accentuate its cruelty. We wandered down the street behind the hotel +to the graceful Gothic church of St. Eloi, of which one aisle had +been shattered; then, turning another corner, we came on a poor +_bourgeois_ house that had had its whole front torn away. The +squalid revelation of caved-in floors, smashed wardrobes, dangling +bedsteads, heaped-up blankets, topsy-turvy chairs and stoves and +wash-stands was far more painful than the sight of the wounded +church. St. Eloi was draped in the dignity of martyrdom, but the +poor little house reminded one of some shy humdrum person suddenly +exposed in the glare of a great misfortune. + +A few people stood in clusters looking up at the ruins, or strayed +aimlessly about the streets. Not a loud word was heard. The air +seemed heavy with the suspended breath of a great city's activities: +the mournful hush of Dunkerque was even more oppressive than the +death-silence of Ypres. But when we came back to the Place Jean Bart +the unbreakable human spirit had begun to reassert itself. A handful +of children were playing in the bottom of the crater, collecting +"specimens" of glass and splintered brick; and about its rim the +market-people, quietly and as a matter of course, were setting up +their wooden stalls. In a few minutes the signs of German havoc +would be hidden behind stacks of crockery and household utensils, +and some of the pale women we had left in mournful contemplation of +the ruins would be bargaining as sharply as ever for a sauce-pan or +a butter-tub. Not once but a hundred times has the attitude of the +average French civilian near the front reminded me of the gallant +cry of Calanthea in _The Broken Heart:_ "Let me die smiling!" I +should have liked to stop and spend all I had in the market of +Dunkerque... + +All the afternoon we wandered about La Panne. The exercises of the +troops had begun again, and the deploying of those endless black +lines along the beach was a sight of the strangest beauty. The sun +was veiled, and heavy surges rolled in under a northerly gale. +Toward evening the sea turned to cold tints of jade and pearl and +tarnished silver. Far down the beach a mysterious fleet of fishing +boats was drawn up on the sand, with black sails bellying in the +wind; and the black riders galloping by might have landed from them, +and been riding into the sunset out of some wild northern legend. +Presently a knot of buglers took up their stand on the edge of the +sea, facing inward, their feet in the surf, and began to play; and +their call was like the call of Roland's horn, when he blew it down +the pass against the heathen. On the sandcrest below my window the +lonely sentinel still watched... + + +June 24th. + +It is like coming down from the mountains to leave the front. I +never had the feeling more strongly than when we passed out of +Belgium this afternoon. I had it most strongly as we drove by a +cluster of villas standing apart in a sterile region of sea-grass +and sand. In one of those villas for nearly a year, two hearts at +the highest pitch of human constancy have held up a light to the +world. It is impossible to pass that house without a sense of awe. +Because of the light that comes from it, dead faiths have come to +life, weak convictions have grown strong, fiery impulses have turned +to long endurance, and long endurance has kept the fire of impulse. +In the harbour of New York there is a pompous statue of a goddess +with a torch, designated as "Liberty enlightening the World." It +seems as though the title on her pedestal might well, for the time, +be transferred to the lintel of that villa in the dunes. + +On leaving St. Omer we took a short cut southward across rolling +country. It was a happy accident that caused us to leave the main +road, for presently, over the crest of a hill, we saw surging toward +us a mighty movement of British and Indian troops. A great bath of +silver sunlight lay on the wheat-fields, the clumps of woodland and +the hilly blue horizon, and in that slanting radiance the cavalry +rode toward us, regiment after regiment of slim turbaned Indians, +with delicate proud faces like the faces of Princes in Persian +miniatures. Then came a long train of artillery; splendid horses, +clattering gun-carriages, clear-faced English youths galloping by +all aglow in the sunset. The stream of them seemed never-ending. Now +and then it was checked by a train of ambulances and supply-waggons, +or caught and congested in the crooked streets of a village where +children and girls had come out with bunches of flowers, and bakers +were selling hot loaves to the sutlers; and when we had extricated +our motor from the crowd, and climbed another hill, we came on +another cavalcade surging toward us through the wheat-fields. For +over an hour the procession poured by, so like and yet so unlike the +French division we had met on the move as we went north a few days +ago; so that we seemed to have passed to the northern front, and +away from it again, through a great flashing gateway in the long +wall of armies guarding the civilized world from the North Sea to +the Vosges. + + + + +IN ALSACE + +August 13th, 1915. + + +My trip to the east began by a dash toward the north. Near Rheims is +a little town--hardly more than a village, but in English we have no +intermediate terms such as "bourg" and "petit bourg"--where one of +the new Red Cross sanitary motor units was to be seen "in action." +The inspection over, we climbed to a vineyard above the town and +looked down at a river valley traversed by a double line of trees. +The first line marked the canal, which is held by the French, who +have gun-boats on it. Behind this ran the high-road, with the +first-line French trenches, and just above, on the opposite slope, +were the German lines. The soil being chalky, the German positions +were clearly marked by two parallel white scorings across the brown +hill-front; and while we watched we heard desultory firing, and saw, +here and there along the ridge, the smoke-puff of an exploding +shell. It was incredibly strange to stand there, among the vines +humming with summer insects, and to look out over a peaceful country +heavy with the coming vintage, knowing that the trees at our feet +hid a line of gun-boats that were crashing death into those two +white scorings on the hill. + +Rheims itself brings one nearer to the war by its look of deathlike +desolation. The paralysis of the bombarded towns is one of the most +tragic results of the invasion. One's soul revolts at this senseless +disorganizing of innumerable useful activities. Compared with the +towns of the north, Rheims is relatively unharmed; but for that very +reason the arrest of life seems the more futile and cruel. The +Cathedral square was deserted, all the houses around it were closed. +And there, before us, rose the Cathedral--_a_ cathedral, rather, for +it was not the one we had always known. It was, in fact, not like +any cathedral on earth. When the German bombardment began, the west +front of Rheims was covered with scaffolding: the shells set it on +fire, and the whole church was wrapped in flames. Now the +scaffolding is gone, and in the dull provincial square there stands +a structure so strange and beautiful that one must search the +Inferno, or some tale of Eastern magic, for words to picture the +luminous unearthly vision. The lower part of the front has been +warmed to deep tints of umber and burnt siena. This rich burnishing +passes, higher up, through yellowish-pink and carmine, to a sulphur +whitening to ivory; and the recesses of the portals and the hollows +behind the statues are lined with a black denser and more velvety +than any effect of shadow to be obtained by sculptured relief. The +interweaving of colour over the whole blunted bruised surface +recalls the metallic tints, the peacock-and-pigeon iridescences, the +incredible mingling of red, blue, umber and yellow of the rocks +along the Gulf of AEgina. And the wonder of the impression is +increased by the sense of its evanescence; the knowledge that this +is the beauty of disease and death, that every one of the +transfigured statues must crumble under the autumn rains, that every +one of the pink or golden stones is already eaten away to the core, +that the Cathedral of Rheims is glowing and dying before us like a +sunset... + + +August 14th. + +A stone and brick chateau in a flat park with a stream running +through it. Pampas-grass, geraniums, rustic bridges, winding paths: +how _bourgeois_ and sleepy it would all seem but for the sentinel +challenging our motor at the gate! + +Before the door a collie dozing in the sun, and a group of +staff-officers waiting for luncheon. Indoors, a room with handsome +tapestries, some good furniture and a table spread with the usual +military maps and aeroplane-photographs. At luncheon, the General, +the chiefs of the staff--a dozen in all--an officer from the General +Head-quarters. The usual atmosphere of _camaraderie_, confidence, +good-humour, and a kind of cheerful seriousness that I have come to +regard as characteristic of the men immersed in the actual facts of +the war. I set down this impression as typical of many such luncheon +hours along the front... + + +August 15th. + +This morning we set out for reconquered Alsace. For reasons +unexplained to the civilian this corner of old-new France has +hitherto been inaccessible, even to highly placed French officials; +and there was a special sense of excitement in taking the road that +led to it. + +We slipped through a valley or two, passed some placid villages with +vine-covered gables, and noticed that most of the signs over the +shops were German. We had crossed the old frontier unawares, and +were presently in the charming town of Massevaux. It was the Feast +of the Assumption, and mass was just over when we reached the square +before the church. The streets were full of holiday people, +well-dressed, smiling, seemingly unconscious of the war. Down the +church-steps, guided by fond mammas, came little girls in white +dresses, with white wreaths in their hair, and carrying, in baskets +slung over their shoulders, woolly lambs or blue and white Virgins. +Groups of cavalry officers stood chatting with civilians in their +Sunday best, and through the windows of the Golden Eagle we saw +active preparations for a crowded mid-day dinner. It was all as +happy and parochial as a "Hansi" picture, and the fine old gabled +houses and clean cobblestone streets made the traditional setting +for an Alsacian holiday. + +At the Golden Eagle we laid in a store of provisions, and started +out across the mountains in the direction of Thann. The Vosges, at +this season, are in their short midsummer beauty, rustling with +streams, dripping with showers, balmy with the smell of firs and +braken, and of purple thyme on hot banks. We reached the top of a +ridge, and, hiding the motor behind a skirt of trees, went out into +the open to lunch on a sunny slope. Facing us across the valley was +a tall conical hill clothed with forest. That hill was +Hartmannswillerkopf, the centre of a long contest in which the +French have lately been victorious; and all about us stood other +crests and ridges from which German guns still look down on the +valley of Thann. + +Thann itself is at the valley-head, in a neck between hills; a +handsome old town, with the air of prosperous stability so oddly +characteristic of this tormented region. As we drove through the +main street the pall of war-sadness fell on us again, darkening the +light and chilling the summer air. Thann is raked by the German +lines, and its windows are mostly shuttered and its streets +deserted. One or two houses in the Cathedral square have been +gutted, but the somewhat over-pinnacled and statued cathedral which +is the pride of Thann is almost untouched, and when we entered it +vespers were being sung, and a few people--mostly in black--knelt in +the nave. + +No greater contrast could be imagined to the happy feast-day scene +we had left, a few miles off, at Massevaux; but Thann, in spite of +its empty streets, is not a deserted city. A vigorous life beats in +it, ready to break forth as soon as the German guns are silenced. +The French administration, working on the best of terms with the +population, are keeping up the civil activities of the town as the +Canons of the Cathedral are continuing the rites of the Church. Many +inhabitants still remain behind their closed shutters and dive down +into their cellars when the shells begin to crash; and the schools, +transferred to a neighbouring village, number over two thousand +pupils. We walked through the town, visited a vast catacomb of a +wine-cellar fitted up partly as an ambulance and partly as a shelter +for the cellarless, and saw the lamentable remains of the industrial +quarter along the river, which has been the special target of the +German guns. Thann has been industrially ruined, all its mills are +wrecked; but unlike the towns of the north it has had the good +fortune to preserve its outline, its civic personality, a face that +its children, when they come back, can recognize and take comfort +in. + +After our visit to the ruins, a diversion was suggested by the +amiable administrators of Thann who had guided our sight-seeing. +They were just off for a military tournament which the --th dragoons +were giving that afternoon in a neighboring valley, and we were +invited to go with them. + +The scene of the entertainment was a meadow enclosed in an +amphitheatre of rocks, with grassy ledges projecting from the cliff +like tiers of opera-boxes. These points of vantage were partly +occupied by interested spectators and partly by ruminating cattle; +on the lowest slope, the rank and fashion of the neighbourhood was +ranged on a semi-circle of chairs, and below, in the meadow, a +lively steeple-chase was going on. The riding was extremely pretty, +as French military riding always is. Few of the mounts were +thoroughbreds--the greater number, in fact, being local cart-horses +barely broken to the saddle--but their agility and dash did the +greater credit to their riders. The lancers, in particular, executed +an effective "musical ride" about a central pennon, to the immense +satisfaction of the fashionable public in the foreground and of the +gallery on the rocks. + +The audience was even more interesting than the artists. Chatting +with the ladies in the front row were the General of division and +his staff, groups of officers invited from the adjoining +Head-quarters, and most of the civil and military administrators of +the restored "Departement du Haut Rhin." All classes had turned out +in honour of the fete, and every one was in a holiday mood. +The people among whom we sat were mostly Alsatian property-owners, +many of them industrials of Thann. Some had been driven from their +homes, others had seen their mills destroyed, all had been living +for a year on the perilous edge of war, under the menace of +reprisals too hideous to picture; yet the humour prevailing was that +of any group of merry-makers in a peaceful garrison town. I have +seen nothing, in my wanderings along the front, more indicative of +the good-breeding of the French than the spirit of the ladies and +gentlemen who sat chatting with the officers on that grassy slope of +Alsace. + +The display of _haute ecole_ was to be followed by an exhibition of +"transportation throughout the ages," headed by a Gaulish chariot +driven by a trooper with a long horsehair moustache and mistletoe +wreath, and ending in a motor of which the engine had been taken out +and replaced by a large placid white horse. Unluckily a heavy rain +began while this instructive "number" awaited its turn, and we had +to leave before Vercingetorix had led his warriors into the ring... + + +August 16th. + +Up and up into the mountains. We started early, taking our way along +a narrow interminable valley that sloped up gradually toward the +east. The road was encumbered with a stream of hooded supply vans +drawn by mules, for we were on the way to one of the main positions +in the Vosges, and this train of provisions is kept up day and +night. Finally we reached a mountain village under fir-clad slopes, +with a cold stream rushing down from the hills. On one side of the +road was a rustic inn, on the other, among the firs, a chalet +occupied by the brigade Head-quarters. Everywhere about us swarmed +the little "chasseurs Alpins" in blue Tam o'Shanters and leather +gaiters. For a year we had been reading of these heroes of the +hills, and here we were among them, looking into their thin +weather-beaten faces and meeting the twinkle of their friendly eyes. +Very friendly they all were, and yet, for Frenchmen, inarticulate +and shy. All over the world, no doubt, the mountain silences breed +this kind of reserve, this shrinking from the glibness of the +valleys. Yet one had fancied that French fluency must soar as high +as Mont Blanc. + +Mules were brought, and we started on a long ride up the mountain. +The way led first over open ledges, with deep views into valleys +blue with distance, then through miles of forest, first of beech and +fir, and finally all of fir. Above the road the wooded slopes rose +interminably and here and there we came on tiers of mules, three or +four hundred together, stabled under the trees, in stalls dug out of +different levels of the slope. Near by were shelters for the men, +and perhaps at the next bend a village of "trappers' huts," as the +officers call the log-cabins they build in this region. These +colonies are always bustling with life: men busy cleaning their +arms, hauling material for new cabins, washing or mending their +clothes, or carrying down the mountain from the camp-kitchen the +two-handled pails full of steaming soup. The kitchen is always in +the most protected quarter of the camp, and generally at some +distance in the rear. Other soldiers, their job over, are lolling +about in groups, smoking, gossiping or writing home, the "Soldiers' +Letter-pad" propped on a patched blue knee, a scarred fist +laboriously driving the fountain pen received in hospital. Some are +leaning over the shoulder of a pal who has just received a Paris +paper, others chuckling together at the jokes of their own French +journal--the "Echo du Ravin," the "Journal des Poilus," or the +"Diable Bleu": little papers ground out in purplish script on +foolscap, and adorned with comic-sketches and a wealth of local +humour. + +Higher up, under a fir-belt, at the edge of a meadow, the officer +who rode ahead signed to us to dismount and scramble after him. We +plunged under the trees, into what seemed a thicker thicket, and +found it to be a thatch of branches woven to screen the muzzles of a +battery. The big guns were all about us, crouched in these sylvan +lairs like wild beasts waiting to spring; and near each gun hovered +its attendant gunner, proud, possessive, important as a bridegroom +with his bride. + +We climbed and climbed again, reaching at last a sun-and-wind-burnt +common which forms the top of one of the highest mountains in the +region. The forest was left below us and only a belt of dwarf firs +ran along the edge of the great grassy shoulder. We dismounted, the +mules were tethered among the trees, and our guide led us to an +insignificant looking stone in the grass. On one face of the stone +was cut the letter F., on the other was a D.; we stood on what, till +a year ago, was the boundary line between Republic and Empire. Since +then, in certain places, the line has been bent back a long way; but +where we stood we were still under German guns, and we had to creep +along in the shelter of the squat firs to reach the outlook on the +edge of the plateau. From there, under a sky of racing clouds, we +saw outstretched below us the Promised Land of Alsace. On one +horizon, far off in the plain, gleamed the roofs and spires of +Colmar, on the other rose the purplish heights beyond the Rhine. +Near by stood a ring of bare hills, those closest to us scarred by +ridges of upheaved earth, as if giant moles had been zigzagging over +them; and just under us, in a little green valley, lay the roofs of +a peaceful village. The earth-ridges and the peaceful village were +still German; but the French positions went down the mountain, +almost to the valley's edge; and one dark peak on the right was +already French. + +We stopped at a gap in the firs and walked to the brink of the +plateau. Just under us lay a rock-rimmed lake. More zig-zag +earthworks surmounted it on all sides, and on the nearest shore was +the branched roofing of another great mule-shelter. We were looking +down at the spot to which the night-caravans of the Chasseurs Alpins +descend to distribute supplies to the fighting line. + +"Who goes there? Attention! You're in sight of the lines!" a voice +called out from the firs, and our companion signed to us to move +back. We had been rather too conspicuously facing the German +batteries on the opposite slope, and our presence might have drawn +their fire on an artillery observation post installed near by. We +retreated hurriedly and unpacked our luncheon-basket on the more +sheltered side of the ridge. As we sat there in the grass, swept by +a great mountain breeze full of the scent of thyme and myrtle, while +the flutter of birds, the hum of insects, the still and busy life of +the hills went on all about us in the sunshine, the pressure of the +encircling line of death grew more intolerably real. It is not in +the mud and jokes and every-day activities of the trenches that one +most feels the damnable insanity of war; it is where it lurks like a +mythical monster in scenes to which the mind has always turned for +rest. + +We had not yet made the whole tour of the mountain-top; and after +luncheon we rode over to a point where a long narrow yoke connects +it with a spur projecting directly above the German lines. We left +our mules in hiding and walked along the yoke, a mere knife-edge of +rock rimmed with dwarf vegetation. Suddenly we heard an explosion +behind us: one of the batteries we had passed on the way up was +giving tongue. The German lines roared back and for twenty minutes +the exchange of invective thundered on. The firing was almost +incessant; it seemed as if a great arch of steel were being built up +above us in the crystal air. And we could follow each curve of sound +from its incipience to its final crash in the trenches. There were +four distinct phases: the sharp bang from the cannon, the long +furious howl overhead, the dispersed and spreading noise of the +shell's explosion, and then the roll of its reverberation from cliff +to cliff. This is what we heard as we crouched in the lee of the +firs: what we saw when we looked out between them was only an +occasional burst of white smoke and red flame from one hillside, and +on the opposite one, a minute later, a brown geyser of dust. + +Presently a deluge of rain descended on us, driving us back to our +mules, and down the nearest mountain-trail through rivers of mud. It +rained all the way: rained in such floods and cataracts that the +very rocks of the mountain seemed to dissolve and turn into mud. As +we slid down through it we met strings of Chasseurs Alpins coming +up, splashed to the waist with wet red clay, and leading pack-mules +so coated with it that they looked like studio models from which the +sculptor has just pulled off the dripping sheet. Lower down we came +on more "trapper" settlements, so saturated and reeking with wet +that they gave us a glimpse of what the winter months on the front +must be. No more cheerful polishing of fire-arms, hauling of +faggots, chatting and smoking in sociable groups: everybody had +crept under the doubtful shelter of branches and tarpaulins; the +whole army was back in its burrows. + + +August 17th. + +Sunshine again for our arrival at Belfort. The invincible city lies +unpretentiously behind its green glacis and escutcheoned gates; but +the guardian Lion under the Citadel--well, the Lion is figuratively +as well as literally _a la hauteur._ With the sunset flush +on him, as he crouched aloft in his red lair below the fort, he +might almost have claimed kin with his mighty prototypes of the +Assarbanipal frieze. One wondered a little, seeing whose work he +was; but probably it is easier for an artist to symbolize an heroic +town than the abstract and elusive divinity who sheds light on the +world from New York harbour. + +From Belfort back into reconquered Alsace the road runs through a +gentle landscape of fields and orchards. We were bound for +Dannemarie, one of the towns of the plain, and a centre of the new +administration. It is the usual "gros bourg" of Alsace, with +comfortable old houses in espaliered gardens: dull, well-to-do, +contented; not in the least the kind of setting demanded by the +patriotism which has to be fed on pictures of little girls singing +the Marseillaise in Alsatian head-dresses and old men with operatic +waistcoats tottering forward to kiss the flag. What we saw at +Dannemarie was less conspicuous to the eye but much more nourishing +to the imagination. The military and civil administrators had the +kindness and patience to explain their work and show us something of +its results; and the visit left one with the impression of a slow +and quiet process of adaptation wisely planned and fruitfully +carried out. We _did_, in fact, hear the school-girls of Dannemarie +sing the Marseillaise--and the boys too--but, what was far more +interesting, we saw them studying under the direction of the +teachers who had always had them in charge, and found that +everywhere it had been the aim of the French officials to let the +routine of the village policy go on undisturbed. The German signs +remain over the shop-fronts except where the shop-keepers have +chosen to paint them out; as is happening more and more frequently. +When a functionary has to be replaced he is chosen from the same +town or the same district, and even the _personnel_ of the civil and +military administration is mainly composed of officers and civilians +of Alsatian stock. The heads of both these departments, who +accompanied us on our rounds, could talk to the children and old +people in German as well as in their local dialect; and, as far as a +passing observer could discern, it seemed as though everything had +been done to reduce to a minimum the sense of strangeness and +friction which is inevitable in the transition from one rule to +another. The interesting point was that this exercise of tact and +tolerance seemed to proceed not from any pressure of expediency but +from a sympathetic understanding of the point of view of this people +of the border. I heard in Dannemarie not a syllable of lyrical +patriotism or post-card sentimentality, but only a kindly and +impartial estimate of facts as they were and must be dealt with. + + +August 18th. + +Today again we started early for the mountains. Our road ran more to +the westward, through the heart of the Vosges, and up to a fold of +the hills near the borders of Lorraine. We stopped at a +Head-quarters where a young officer of dragoons was to join us, and +learned from him that we were to be allowed to visit some of the +first-line trenches which we had looked out on from a high-perched +observation post on our former visit to the Vosges. Violent fighting +was going on in that particular region, and after a climb of an hour +or two we had to leave the motor at a sheltered angle of the road +and strike across the hills on foot. Our path lay through the +forest, and every now and then we caught a glimpse of the high-road +running below us in full view of the German batteries. Presently we +reached a point where the road was screened by a thick growth of +trees behind which an observation post had been set up. We scrambled +down and looked through the peephole. Just below us lay a valley +with a village in its centre, and to the left and right of the +village were two hills, the one scored with French, the other with +German trenches. The village, at first sight, looked as normal as +those through which we had been passing; but a closer inspection +showed that its steeple was shattered and that some of its houses +were unroofed. Part of it was held by German, part by French troops. +The cemetery adjoining the church, and a quarry just under it, +belonged to the Germans; but a line of French trenches ran from the +farther side of the church up to the French batteries on the right +hand hill. Parallel with this line, but starting from the other side +of the village, was a hollow lane leading up to a single tree. This +lane was a German trench, protected by the guns of the left hand +hill; and between the two lay perhaps fifty yards of ground. All +this was close under us; and closer still was a slope of open ground +leading up to the village and traversed by a rough cart-track. Along +this track in the hot sunshine little French soldiers, the size of +tin toys, were scrambling up with bags and loads of faggots, their +ant-like activity as orderly and untroubled as if the two armies had +not lain trench to trench a few yards away. It was one of those +strange and contradictory scenes of war that bring home to the +bewildered looker-on the utter impossibility of picturing how the +thing _really happens._ + +While we stood watching we heard the sudden scream of a battery +close above us. The crest of the hill we were climbing was alive +with "Seventy-fives," and the piercing noise seemed to burst out at +our very backs. It was the most terrible war-shriek I had heard: a +kind of wolfish baying that called up an image of all the dogs of +war simultaneously tugging at their leashes. There is a dreadful +majesty in the sound of a distant cannonade; but these yelps and +hisses roused only thoughts of horror. And there, on the opposite +slope, the black and brown geysers were beginning to spout up from +the German trenches; and from the batteries above them came the puff +and roar of retaliation. Below us, along the cart-track, the little +French soldiers continued to scramble up peacefully to the +dilapidated village; and presently a group of officers of dragoons, +emerging from the wood, came down to welcome us to their +Head-quarters. + +We continued to climb through the forest, the cannonade still +whistling overhead, till we reached the most elaborate trapper +colony we had yet seen. Half underground, walled with logs, and +deeply roofed by sods tufted with ferns and moss, the cabins were +scattered under the trees and connected with each other by paths +bordered with white stones. Before the Colonel's cabin the soldiers +had made a banked-up flower-bed sown with annuals; and farther up +the slope stood a log chapel, a mere gable with a wooden altar under +it, all tapestried with ivy and holly. Near by was the chaplain's +subterranean dwelling. It was reached by a deep cutting with +ivy-covered sides, and ivy and fir-boughs masked the front. This +sylvan retreat had just been completed, and the officers, the +chaplain, and the soldiers loitering near by, were all equally eager +to have it seen and hear it praised. + +The commanding officer, having done the honours of the camp, led us +about a quarter of a mile down the hillside to an open cutting which +marked the beginning of the trenches. From the cutting we passed +into a long tortuous burrow walled and roofed with carefully fitted +logs. The earth floor was covered by a sort of wooden lattice. The +only light entering this tunnel was a faint ray from an occasional +narrow slit screened by branches; and beside each of these +peep-holes hung a shield-shaped metal shutter to be pushed over it +in case of emergency. + +The passage wound down the hill, almost doubling on itself, in order +to give a view of all the surrounding lines. Presently the roof +became much higher, and we saw on one side a curtained niche about +five feet above the floor. One of the officers pulled the curtain +back, and there, on a narrow shelf, a gun between his knees, sat a +dragoon, his eyes on a peep-hole. The curtain was hastily drawn +again behind his motionless figure, lest the faint light at his back +should betray him. We passed by several of these helmeted watchers, +and now and then we came to a deeper recess in which a mitrailleuse +squatted, its black nose thrust through a net of branches. Sometimes +the roof of the tunnel was so low that we had to bend nearly double; +and at intervals we came to heavy doors, made of logs and sheeted +with iron, which shut off one section from another. It is hard to +guess the distance one covers in creeping through an unlit passage +with different levels and countless turnings; but we must have +descended the hillside for at least a mile before we came out into a +half-ruined farmhouse. This building, which had kept nothing but its +outer walls and one or two partitions between the rooms, had been +transformed into an observation post. In each of its corners a +ladder led up to a little shelf on the level of what was once the +second story, and on the shelf sat a dragoon at his peep-hole. +Below, in the dilapidated rooms, the usual life of a camp was going +on. Some of the soldiers were playing cards at a kitchen table, +others mending their clothes, or writing letters or chuckling +together (not too loud) over a comic newspaper. It might have been a +scene anywhere along the second-line trenches but for the lowered +voices, the suddenness with which I was drawn back from a slit in +the wall through which I had incautiously peered, and the presence +of these helmeted watchers overhead. + +We plunged underground again and began to descend through another +darker and narrower tunnel. In the upper one there had been one or +two roofless stretches where one could straighten one's back and +breathe; but here we were in pitch blackness, and saved from +breaking our necks only by the gleam of the pocket-light which the +young lieutenant who led the party shed on our path. As he whisked +it up and down to warn us of sudden steps or sharp corners he +remarked that at night even this faint glimmer was forbidden, and +that it was a bad job going back and forth from the last outpost +till one had learned the turnings. + +The last outpost was a half-ruined farmhouse like the other. A +telephone connected it with Head-quarters and more dumb dragoons sat +motionless on their lofty shelves. The house was shut off from the +tunnel by an armoured door, and the orders were that in case of +attack that door should be barred from within and the access to the +tunnel defended to the death by the men in the outpost. We were on +the extreme verge of the defences, on a slope just above the village +over which we had heard the artillery roaring a few hours earlier. +The spot where we stood was raked on all sides by the enemy's lines, +and the nearest trenches were only a few yards away. But of all this +nothing was really perceptible or comprehensible to me. As far as my +own observation went, we might have been a hundred miles from the +valley we had looked down on, where the French soldiers were walking +peacefully up the cart-track in the sunshine. I only knew that we +had come out of a black labyrinth into a gutted house among +fruit-trees, where soldiers were lounging and smoking, and people +whispered as they do about a death-bed. Over a break in the walls I +saw another gutted farmhouse close by in another orchard: it was an +enemy outpost, and silent watchers in helmets of another shape sat +there watching on the same high shelves. But all this was infinitely +less real and terrible than the cannonade above the disputed +village. The artillery had ceased and the air was full of summer +murmurs. Close by on a sheltered ledge I saw a patch of vineyard +with dewy cobwebs hanging to the vines. I could not understand where +we were, or what it was all about, or why a shell from the enemy +outpost did not suddenly annihilate us. And then, little by little, +there came over me the sense of that mute reciprocal watching from +trench to trench: the interlocked stare of innumerable pairs of +eyes, stretching on, mile after mile, along the whole sleepless line +from Dunkerque to Belfort. + +My last vision of the French front which I had traveled from end to +end was this picture of a shelled house where a few men, who sat +smoking and playing cards in the sunshine, had orders to hold out to +the death rather than let their fraction of that front be broken. + + + + +THE TONE OF FRANCE + + +Nobody now asks the question that so often, at the beginning of the +war, came to me from the other side of the world: "_What is France +like?"_ Every one knows what France has proved to be like: from +being a difficult problem she has long since become a luminous +instance. + +Nevertheless, to those on whom that illumination has shone only from +far off, there may still be something to learn about its component +elements; for it has come to consist of many separate rays, and the +weary strain of the last year has been the spectroscope to decompose +them. From the very beginning, when one felt the effulgence as the +mere pale brightness before dawn, the attempt to define it was +irresistible. "There _is_ a tone--" the tingling sense of it was in +the air from the first days, the first hours--"but what does it +consist in? And just how is one aware of it?" In those days the +answer was comparatively easy. The tone of France after the +declaration of war was the white glow of dedication: a great +nation's collective impulse (since there is no English equivalent +for that winged word, _elan_ ) to resist destruction. But at that +time no one knew what the resistance was to cost, how long it would +have to last, what sacrifices, material and moral, it would +necessitate. And for the moment baser sentiments were silenced: +greed, self-interest, pusillanimity seemed to have been purged from +the race. The great sitting of the Chamber, that almost religious +celebration of defensive union, really expressed the opinion of the +whole people. It is fairly easy to soar to the empyrean when one is +carried on the wings of such an impulse, and when one does not know +how long one is to be kept suspended at the breathing-limit. + +But there is a term to the flight of the most soaring _elan_. It is +likely, after a while, to come back broken-winged and resign itself +to barn-yard bounds. National judgments cannot remain for long above +individual feelings; and you cannot get a national "tone" out of +anything less than a whole nation. The really interesting thing, +therefore, was to see, as the war went on, and grew into a calamity +unheard of in human annals, how the French spirit would meet it, and +what virtues extract from it. + +The war has been a calamity unheard of; but France has never been +afraid of the unheard of. No race has ever yet so audaciously +dispensed with old precedents; as none has ever so revered their +relics. It is a great strength to be able to walk without the +support of analogies; and France has always shown that strength in +times of crisis. The absorbing question, as the war went on, was to +discover how far down into the people this intellectual audacity +penetrated, how instinctive it had become, and how it would endure +the strain of prolonged inaction. + +There was never much doubt about the army. When a warlike race has +an invader on its soil, the men holding back the invader can never +be said to be inactive. But behind the army were the waiting +millions to whom that long motionless line in the trenches might +gradually have become a mere condition of thought, an accepted +limitation to all sorts of activities and pleasures. The danger was +that such a war--static, dogged, uneventful--might gradually cramp +instead of enlarging the mood of the lookers-on. Conscription, of +course, was there to minimize this danger. Every one was sharing +alike in the glory and the woe. But the glory was not of a kind to +penetrate or dazzle. It requires more imagination to see the halo +around tenacity than around dash; and the French still cling to the +view that they are, so to speak, the patentees and proprietors of +dash, and much less at home with his dull drudge of a partner. So +there was reason to fear, in the long run, a gradual but +irresistible disintegration, not of public opinion, but of something +subtler and more fundamental: public sentiment. It was possible that +civilian France, while collectively seeming to remain at the same +height, might individually deteriorate and diminish in its attitude +toward the war. + +The French would not be human, and therefore would not be +interesting, if one had not perceived in them occasional symptoms of +such a peril. There has not been a Frenchman or a Frenchwoman--save +a few harmless and perhaps nervous theorizers--who has wavered about +the military policy of the country; but there have naturally been +some who have found it less easy than they could have foreseen to +live up to the sacrifices it has necessitated. Of course there have +been such people: one would have had to postulate them if they had +not come within one's experience. There have been some to whom it +was harder than they imagined to give up a certain way of living, or +a certain kind of breakfast-roll; though the French, being +fundamentally temperate, are far less the slaves of the luxuries +they have invented than are the other races who have adopted these +luxuries. + +There have been many more who found the sacrifice of personal +happiness--of all that made life livable, or one's country worth +fighting for--infinitely harder than the most apprehensive +imagination could have pictured. There have been mothers and widows +for whom a single grave, or the appearance of one name on the +missing list, has turned the whole conflict into an idiot's tale. +There have been many such; but there have apparently not been enough +to deflect by a hair's breadth the subtle current of public +sentiment; unless it is truer, as it is infinitely more inspiring, +to suppose that, of this company of blinded baffled sufferers, +almost all have had the strength to hide their despair and to say of +the great national effort which has lost most of its meaning to +them: "Though it slay me, yet will I trust in it." That is probably +the finest triumph of the tone of France: that its myriad fiery +currents flow from so many hearts made insensible by suffering, that +so many dead hands feed its undying lamp. + +This does not in the least imply that resignation is the prevailing +note in the tone of France. The attitude of the French people, after +fourteen months of trial, is not one of submission to unparalleled +calamity. It is one of exaltation, energy, the hot resolve to +dominate the disaster. In all classes the feeling is the same: every +word and every act is based on the resolute ignoring of any +alternative to victory. The French people no more think of a +compromise than people would think of facing a flood or an +earthquake with a white flag. + +Two questions are likely to be put to any observer of the struggle +who risks such assertions. What, one may be asked, are the proofs of +this national tone? And what conditions and qualities seem to +minister to it? + +The proofs, now that "the tumult and the shouting dies," and +civilian life has dropped back into something like its usual +routine, are naturally less definable than at the outset. One of the +most evident is the spirit in which all kinds of privations are +accepted. No one who has come in contact with the work-people and +small shop-keepers of Paris in the last year can fail to be struck +by the extreme dignity and grace with which doing without things is +practised. The Frenchwoman leaning in the door of her empty +_boutique_ still wears the smile with which she used to calm the +impatience of crowding shoppers. The seam-stress living on the +meagre pay of a charity work-room gives her day's sewing as +faithfully as if she were working for full wages in a fashionable +_atelier_, and never tries, by the least hint of private +difficulties, to extract additional help. The habitual cheerfulness +of the Parisian workwoman rises, in moments of sorrow, to the finest +fortitude. In a work-room where many women have been employed since +the beginning of the war, a young girl of sixteen heard late one +afternoon that her only brother had been killed. She had a moment of +desperate distress; but there was a big family to be helped by her +small earnings, and the next morning punctually she was back at +work. In this same work-room the women have one half-holiday in the +week, without reduction of pay; yet if an order has to be rushed +through for a hospital they give up that one afternoon as gaily as +if they were doing it for their pleasure. But if any one who has +lived for the last year among the workers and small tradesmen of +Paris should begin to cite instances of endurance, self-denial and +secret charity, the list would have no end. The essential of it all +is the spirit in which these acts are accomplished. + +The second question: What are the conditions and qualities that have +produced such results? is less easy to answer. The door is so +largely open to conjecture that every explanation must depend +largely on the answerer's personal bias. But one thing is certain. +France has not achieved her present tone by the sacrifice of any of +her national traits, but rather by their extreme keying up; +therefore the surest way of finding a clue to that tone is to try to +single out whatever distinctively "French" characteristics--or those +that appear such to the envious alien--have a direct bearing on the +present attitude of France. Which (one must ask) of all their +multiple gifts most help the French today to be what they are in +just the way they are? + +_Intelligence!_ is the first and instantaneous answer. Many French +people seem unaware of this. They are sincerely persuaded that the +curbing of their critical activity has been one of the most +important and useful results of the war. One is told that, in a +spirit of patriotism, this fault-finding people has learned not to +find fault. Nothing could be more untrue. The French, when they have +a grievance, do not air it in the _Times:_ their forum is the cafe +and not the newspaper. But in the cafe they are talking as freely as +ever, discriminating as keenly and judging as passionately. The +difference is that the very exercise of their intelligence on a +problem larger and more difficult than any they have hitherto faced +has freed them from the dominion of most of the prejudices, +catch-words and conventions that directed opinion before the war. +Then their intelligence ran in fixed channels; now it has overflowed +its banks. + +This release has produced an immediate readjusting of all the +elements of national life. In great trials a race is tested by its +values; and the war has shown the world what are the real values of +France. Never for an instant has this people, so expert in the great +art of living, imagined that life consisted in being alive. +Enamoured of pleasure and beauty, dwelling freely and frankly in the +present, they have yet kept their sense of larger meanings, have +understood life to be made up of many things past and to come, of +renunciation as well as satisfaction, of traditions as well as +experiments, of dying as much as of living. Never have they +considered life as a thing to be cherished in itself, apart from its +reactions and its relations. + +Intelligence first, then, has helped France to be what she is; and +next, perhaps, one of its corollaries, _expression_. The French are +the first to laugh at themselves for running to words: they seem to +regard their gift for expression as a weakness, a possible deterrent +to action. The last year has not confirmed that view. It has rather +shown that eloquence is a supplementary weapon. By "eloquence" I +naturally do not mean public speaking, nor yet the rhetorical +writing too often associated with the word. Rhetoric is the +dressing-up of conventional sentiment, eloquence the fearless +expression of real emotion. And this gift of the fearless expression +of emotion--fearless, that is, of ridicule, or of indifference in +the hearer--has been an inestimable strength to France. It is a sign +of the high average of French intelligence that feeling well-worded +can stir and uplift it; that "words" are not half shamefacedly +regarded as something separate from, and extraneous to, emotion, or +even as a mere vent for it, but as actually animating and forming +it. Every additional faculty for exteriorizing states of feeling, +giving them a face and a language, is a moral as well as an artistic +asset, and Goethe was never wiser than when he wrote: + + "A god gave me the voice to speak my pain." + +It is not too much to say that the French are at this moment drawing +a part of their national strength from their language. The piety +with which they have cherished and cultivated it has made it a +precious instrument in their hands. It can say so beautifully what +they feel that they find strength and renovation in using it; and +the word once uttered is passed on, and carries the same help to +others. Countless instances of such happy expression could be cited +by any one who has lived the last year in France. On the bodies of +young soldiers have been found letters of farewell to their parents +that made one think of some heroic Elizabethan verse; and the +mothers robbed of these sons have sent them an answering cry of +courage. + +"Thank you," such a mourner wrote me the other day, "for having +understood the cruelty of our fate, and having pitied us. Thank you +also for having exalted the pride that is mingled with our +unutterable sorrow." Simply that, and no more; but she might have +been speaking for all the mothers of France. + +When the eloquent expression of feeling does not issue in action--or +at least in a state of mind equivalent to action--it sinks to the +level of rhetoric; but in France at this moment expression and +conduct supplement and reflect each other. And this brings me to the +other great attribute which goes to making up the tone of France: +the quality of courage. It is not unintentionally that it comes last +on my list. French courage is courage rationalized, courage thought +out, and found necessary to some special end; it is, as much as any +other quality of the French temperament, the result of French +intelligence. + +No people so sensitive to beauty, so penetrated with a passionate +interest in life, so endowed with the power to express and +immortalize that interest, can ever really enjoy destruction for its +own sake. The French hate "militarism." It is stupid, inartistic, +unimaginative and enslaving; there could not be four better French +reasons for detesting it. Nor have the French ever enjoyed the +savage forms of sport which stimulate the blood of more apathetic or +more brutal races. Neither prize-fighting nor bull-fighting is of +the soil in France, and Frenchmen do not settle their private +differences impromptu with their fists: they do it, logically and +with deliberation, on the duelling-ground. But when a national +danger threatens, they instantly become what they proudly and justly +call themselves--"a warlike nation"--and apply to the business in +hand the ardour, the imagination, the perseverance that have made +them for centuries the great creative force of civilization. Every +French soldier knows why he is fighting, and why, at this moment, +physical courage is the first quality demanded of him; every +Frenchwoman knows why war is being waged, and why her moral courage +is needed to supplement the soldier's contempt of death. + +The women of France are supplying this moral courage in act as well +as in word. Frenchwomen, as a rule, are perhaps less instinctively +"courageous," in the elementary sense, than their Anglo-Saxon +sisters. They are afraid of more things, and are less ashamed of +showing their fear. The French mother coddles her children, the boys +as well as the girls: when they tumble and bark their knees they are +expected to cry, and not taught to control themselves as English and +American children are. I have seen big French boys bawling over a +cut or a bruise that an Anglo-Saxon girl of the same age would have +felt compelled to bear without a tear. Frenchwomen are timid for +themselves as well as for their children. They are afraid of the +unexpected, the unknown, the experimental. It is not part of the +Frenchwoman's training to pretend to have physical courage. She has +not the advantage of our discipline in the hypocrisies of "good +form" when she is called on to be brave, she must draw her courage +from her brains. She must first be convinced of the necessity of +heroism; after that she is fit to go bridle to bridle with Jeanne +d'Arc. + +The same display of reasoned courage is visible in the hasty +adaptation of the Frenchwoman to all kinds of uncongenial jobs. +Almost every kind of service she has been called to render since the +war began has been fundamentally uncongenial. A French doctor once +remarked to me that Frenchwomen never make really good sick-nurses +except when they are nursing their own people. They are too +personal, too emotional, and too much interested in more interesting +things, to take to the fussy details of good nursing, except when it +can help some one they care for. Even then, as a rule, they are not +systematic or tidy; but they make up for these deficiencies by +inexhaustible willingness and sympathy. And it has been easy for +them to become good war-nurses, because every Frenchwoman who nurses +a French soldier feels that she is caring for her kin. The French +war-nurse sometimes mislays an instrument or forgets to sterilize a +dressing; but she almost always finds the consoling word to say and +the right tone to take with her wounded soldiers. That profound +solidarity which is one of the results of conscription flowers, in +war-time, in an exquisite and impartial devotion. + +This, then, is what "France is like." The whole civilian part of the +nation seems merged in one symbolic figure, carrying help and hope +to the fighters or passionately bent above the wounded. The +devotion, the self-denial, seem instinctive; but they are really +based on a reasoned knowledge of the situation and on an unflinching +estimate of values. All France knows today that real "life" consists +in the things that make it worth living, and that these things, for +France, depend on the free expression of her national genius. If +France perishes as an intellectual light and as a moral force every +Frenchman perishes with her; and the only death that Frenchmen fear +is not death in the trenches but death by the extinction of their +national ideal. It is against this death that the whole nation is +fighting; and it is the reasoned recognition of their peril which, +at this moment, is making the most intelligent people in the world +the most sublime. + + + + +THE END + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Fighting France, by Edith Wharton + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FIGHTING FRANCE *** + +***** This file should be named 4550.txt or 4550.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/4/5/5/4550/ + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo. 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All around was noonday quiet, and +the sober disciplined landscape which the traveller's memory is apt +to evoke as distinctively French. Sometimes, even to accustomed +eyes, these ruled-off fields and compact grey villages seem merely +flat and tame; at other moments the sensitive imagination sees in +every thrifty sod and even furrow the ceaseless vigilant attachment +of generations faithful to the soil. The particular bit of landscape +before us spoke in all its lines of that attachment. The air seemed +full of the long murmur of human effort, the rhythm of oft-repeated +tasks, the serenity of the scene smiled away the war rumours which +had hung on us since morning. + +All day the sky had been banked with thunder-clouds, but by the time +we reached Chartres, toward four o'clock, they had rolled away under +the horizon, and the town was so saturated with sunlight that to +pass into the cathedral was like entering the dense obscurity of a +church in Spain. At first all detail was imperceptible; we were in a +hollow night. Then, as the shadows gradually thinned and gathered +themselves up into pier and vault and ribbing, there burst out of +them great sheets and showers of colour. Framed by such depths of +darkness, and steeped in a blaze of mid-summer sun, the familiar +windows seemed singularly remote and yet overpoweringly vivid. Now +they widened into dark-shored pools splashed with sunset, now +glittered and menaced like the shields of fighting angels. Some were +cataracts of sapphires, others roses dropped from a saint's tunic, +others great carven platters strewn with heavenly regalia, others +the sails of galleons bound for the Purple Islands; and in the +western wall the scattered fires of the rose-window hung like a +constellation in an African night. When one dropped one's eyes form +these ethereal harmonies, the dark masses of masonry below them, all +veiled and muffled in a mist pricked by a few altar lights, seemed +to symbolize the life on earth, with its shadows, its heavy +distances and its little islands of illusion. All that a great +cathedral can be, all the meanings it can express, all the +tranquilizing power it can breathe upon the soul, all the richness +of detail it can fuse into a large utterance of strength and beauty, +the cathedral of Chartres gave us in that perfect hour. + +It was sunset when we reached the gates of Paris. Under the heights +of St. Cloud and Suresnes the reaches of the Seine trembled with the +blue-pink lustre of an early Monet. The Bois lay about us in the +stillness of a holiday evening, and the lawns of Bagatelle were as +fresh as June. Below the Arc de Triomphe, the Champs Elysees sloped +downward in a sun-powdered haze to the mist of fountains and the +ethereal obelisk; and the currents of summer life ebbed and flowed +with a normal beat under the trees of the radiating avenues. The +great city, so made for peace and art and all humanest graces, +seemed to lie by her river-side like a princess guarded by the +watchful giant of the Eiffel Tower. + +The next day the air was thundery with rumours. Nobody believed +them, everybody repeated them. War? Of course there couldn't be war! +The Cabinets, like naughty children, were again dangling their feet +over the edge; but the whole incalculable weight of +things-as-they-were, of the daily necessary business of living, +continued calmly and convincingly to assert itself against the +bandying of diplomatic words. Paris went on steadily about her +mid-summer business of feeding, dressing, and amusing the great army +of tourists who were the only invaders she had seen for nearly half +a century. + +All the while, every one knew that other work was going on also. The +whole fabric of the country's seemingly undisturbed routine was +threaded with noiseless invisible currents of preparation, the sense +of them was in the calm air as the sense of changing weather is in +the balminess of a perfect afternoon. Paris counted the minutes till +the evening papers came. + +They said little or nothing except what every one was already +declaring all over the country. "We don't want war--_mais it faut +que cela finisse!_" "This kind of thing has got to stop": that was +the only phase one heard. If diplomacy could still arrest the war, +so much the better: no one in France wanted it. All who spent the +first days of August in Paris will testify to the agreement of +feeling on that point. But if war had to come, the country, and +every heart in it, was ready. + +At the dressmaker's, the next morning, the tired fitters were +preparing to leave for their usual holiday. They looked pale and +anxious--decidedly, there was a new weight of apprehension in the +air. And in the rue Royale, at the corner of the Place de la +Concorde, a few people had stopped to look at a little strip of +white paper against the wall of the Ministere de la Marine. "General +mobilization" they read--and an armed nation knows what that means. +But the group about the paper was small and quiet. Passers by read +the notice and went on. There were no cheers, no gesticulations: the +dramatic sense of the race had already told them that the event was +too great to be dramatized. Like a monstrous landslide it had fallen +across the path of an orderly laborious nation, disrupting its +routine, annihilating its industries, rending families apart, and +burying under a heap of senseless ruin the patiently and painfully +wrought machinery of civilization... + +That evening, in a restaurant of the rue Royale, we sat at a table +in one of the open windows, abreast with the street, and saw the +strange new crowds stream by. In an instant we were being shown what +mobilization was--a huge break in the normal flow of traffic, like +the sudden rupture of a dyke. The street was flooded by the torrent +of people sweeping past us to the various railway stations. All were +on foot, and carrying their luggage; for since dawn every cab and +taxi and motor--omnibus had disappeared. The War Office had thrown +out its drag-net and caught them all in. The crowd that passed our +window was chiefly composed of conscripts, the _mobilisables _of the +first day, who were on the way to the station accompanied by their +families and friends; but among them were little clusters of +bewildered tourists, labouring along with bags and bundles, and +watching their luggage pushed before them on hand-carts--puzzled +inarticulate waifs caught in the cross-tides racing to a maelstrom. + +In the restaurant, the befrogged and red-coated band poured out +patriotic music, and the intervals between the courses that so few +waiters were left to serve were broken by the ever-recurring +obligation to stand up for the Marseillaise, to stand up for God +Save the King, to stand up for the Russian National Anthem, to stand +up again for the Marseillaise. "_Et dire que ce sont des Hongrois +qui jouent tout cela!"_ a humourist remarked from the pavement. + +As the evening wore on and the crowd about our window thickened, the +loiterers outside began to join in the war-songs. "_Allons, debout!_ +"--and the loyal round begins again. "La chanson du depart" is a +frequent demand; and the chorus of spectators chimes in roundly. A +sort of quiet humour was the note of the street. Down the rue +Royale, toward the Madeleine, the bands of other restaurants were +attracting other throngs, and martial refrains were strung along the +Boulevard like its garlands of arc-lights. It was a night of singing +and acclamations, not boisterous, but gallant and determined. It was +Paris _badauderie _at its best. + +Meanwhile, beyond the fringe of idlers the steady stream of +conscripts still poured along. Wives and families trudged beside +them, carrying all kinds of odd improvised bags and bundles. The +impression disengaging itself from all this superficial confusion +was that of a cheerful steadiness of spirit. The faces ceaselessly +streaming by were serious but not sad; nor was there any air of +bewilderment--the stare of driven cattle. All these lads and young +men seemed to know what they were about and why they were about it. +The youngest of them looked suddenly grown up and responsible; they +understood their stake in the job, and accepted it. + +The next day the army of midsummer travel was immobilized to let the +other army move. No more wild rushes to the station, no more bribing +of concierges, vain quests for invisible cabs, haggard hours of +waiting in the queue at Cook's. No train stirred except to carry +soldiers, and the civilians who had not bribed and jammed their way +into a cranny of the thronged carriages leaving the first night +could only creep back through the hot streets to their hotel and +wait. Back they went, disappointed yet half-relieved, to the +resounding emptiness of porterless halls, waiterless restaurants, +motionless lifts: to the queer disjointed life of fashionable hotels +suddenly reduced to the intimacies and make-shift of a Latin +Quarter _pension._ Meanwhile it was strange to watch the gradual +paralysis of the city. As the motors, taxis, cabs and vans had +vanished from the streets, so the lively little steamers had left +the Seine. The canal-boats too were gone, or lay motionless: loading +and unloading had ceased. Every great architectural opening framed +an emptiness; all the endless avenues stretched away to desert +distances. In the parks and gardens no one raked the paths or +trimmed the borders. The fountains slept in their basins, the +worried sparrows fluttered unfed, and vague dogs, shaken out of +their daily habits, roamed unquietly, looking for familiar eyes. +Paris, so intensely conscious yet so strangely entranced, seemed to +have had _curare _injected into all her veins. + +The next day--the 2nd of August--from the terrace of the Hotel +de Crillon one looked down on a first faint stir of returning life. +Now and then a taxi-cab or a private motor crossed the Place de la +Concorde, carrying soldiers to the stations. Other conscripts, in +detachments, tramped by on foot with bags and banners. One +detachment stopped before the black-veiled statue of Strasbourg and +laid a garland at her feet. In ordinary times this demonstration +would at once have attracted a crowd; but at the very moment when it +might have been expected to provoke a patriotic outburst it excited +no more attention than if one of the soldiers had turned aside to +give a penny to a beggar. The people crossing the square did not +even stop to look. The meaning of this apparent indifference was +obvious. When an armed nation mobilizes, everybody is busy, and busy +in a definite and pressing way. It is not only the fighters that +mobilize: those who stay behind must do the same. For each French +household, for each individual man or woman in France, war means a +complete reorganization of life. The detachment of conscripts, +unnoticed, paid their tribute to the Cause and passed on... + +Looked back on from these sterner months those early days in Paris, +in their setting of grave architecture and summer skies, wear the +light of the ideal and the abstract. The sudden flaming up of +national life, the abeyance of every small and mean preoccupation, +cleared the moral air as the streets had been cleared, and made the +spectator feel as though he were reading a great poem on War rather +than facing its realities. + +Something of this sense of exaltation seemed to penetrate the +throngs who streamed up and down the Boulevards till late into the +night. All wheeled traffic had ceased, except that of the rare +taxi-cabs impressed to carry conscripts to the stations; and the +middle of the Boulevards was as thronged with foot-passengers as an +Italian market-place on a Sunday morning. The vast tide swayed up +and down at a slow pace, breaking now and then to make room for one +of the volunteer "legions" which were forming at every corner: +Italian, Roumanian, South American, North American, each headed by +its national flag and hailed with cheering as it passed. But even +the cheers were sober: Paris was not to be shaken out of her +self-imposed serenity. One felt something nobly conscious and +voluntary in the mood of this quiet multitude. Yet it was a mixed +throng, made up of every class, from the scum of the Exterior +Boulevards to the cream of the fashionable restaurants. These +people, only two days ago, had been leading a thousand different +lives, in indifference or in antagonism to each other, as alien as +enemies across a frontier: now workers and idlers, thieves, beggars, +saints, poets, drabs and sharpers, genuine people and showy shams, +were all bumping up against each other in an instinctive community +of emotion. The "people," luckily, predominated; the faces of +workers look best in such a crowd, and there were thousands of them, +each illuminated and singled out by its magnesium-flash of passion. + +I remember especially the steady-browed faces of the women; and also +the small but significant fact that every one of them had remembered +to bring her dog. The biggest of these amiable companions had to +take their chance of seeing what they could through the forest of +human legs; but every one that was portable was snugly lodged in the +bend of an elbow, and from this safe perch scores and scores of +small serious muzzles, blunt or sharp, smooth or woolly, brown or +grey or white or black or brindled, looked out on the scene with the +quiet awareness of the Paris dog. It was certainly a good sign that +they had not been forgotten that night. + + + + + +II + + + + +WE had been shown, impressively, what it was to live through a +mobilization; now we were to learn that mobilization is only one of +the concomitants of martial law, and that martial law is not +comfortable to live under--at least till one gets used to it. + +At first its main purpose, to the neutral civilian, seemed certainly +to be the wayward pleasure of complicating his life; and in that +line it excelled in the last refinements of ingenuity. Instructions +began to shower on us after the lull of the first days: instructions +as to what to do, and what not to do, in order to make our presence +tolerable and our persons secure. In the first place, foreigners +could not remain in France without satisfying the authorities as to +their nationality and antecedents; and to do this necessitated +repeated ineffective visits to chanceries, consulates and police +stations, each too densely thronged with flustered applicants to +permit the entrance of one more. Between these vain pilgrimages, the +traveller impatient to leave had to toil on foot to distant railway +stations, from which he returned baffled by vague answers and +disheartened by the declaration that tickets, when achievable, must +also be _vises_ by the police. There was a moment when it seemed +that ones inmost thoughts had to have that unobtainable _visa_--to +obtain which, more fruitless hours must be lived on grimy stairways +between perspiring layers of fellow-aliens. Meanwhile one's money +was probable running short, and one must cable or telegraph for +more. Ah--but cables and telegrams must be _vises _too--and even +when they were, one got no guarantee that they would be sent! Then +one could not use code addresses, and the ridiculous number of words +contained in a New York address seemed to multiply as the francs in +one's pockets diminished. And when the cable was finally dispatched +it was either lost on the way, or reached its destination only to +call forth, after anxious days, the disheartening response: +"Impossible at present. Making every effort." It is fair to add +that, tedious and even irritating as many of these transactions +were, they were greatly eased by the sudden uniform good-nature of +the French functionary, who, for the first time, probably, in the +long tradition of his line, broke through its fundamental rule and +was kind. + +Luckily, too, these incessant comings and goings involved much +walking of the beautiful idle summer streets, which grew idler and +more beautiful each day. Never had such blue-grey softness of +afternoon brooded over Paris, such sunsets turned the heights of the +Trocadero into Dido's Carthage, never, above all, so rich a moon +ripened through such perfect evenings. The Seine itself had no small +share in this mysterious increase of the city's beauty. Released +from all traffic, its hurried ripples smoothed themselves into long +silken reaches in which quays and monuments at last saw their +unbroken images. At night the fire-fly lights of the boats had +vanished, and the reflections of the street lamps were lengthened +into streamers of red and gold and purple that slept on the calm +current like fluted water-weeds. Then the moon rose and took +possession of the city, purifying it of all accidents, calming and +enlarging it and giving it back its ideal lines of strength and +repose. There was something strangely moving in this new Paris of +the August evenings, so exposed yet so serene, as though her very +beauty shielded her. + +So, gradually, we fell into the habit of living under martial law. +After the first days of flustered adjustment the personal +inconveniences were so few that one felt almost ashamed of their not +being more, of not being called on to contribute some greater +sacrifice of comfort to the Cause. Within the first week over two +thirds of the shops had closed--the greater number bearing on their +shuttered windows the notice "Pour cause de mobilisation," which +showed that the "patron" and staff were at the front. But enough +remained open to satisfy every ordinary want, and the closing of the +others served to prove how much one could do without. Provisions +were as cheap and plentiful as ever, though for a while it was +easier to buy food than to have it cooked. The restaurants were +closing rapidly, and one often had to wander a long way for a meal, +and wait a longer time to get it. A few hotels still carried on a +halting life, galvanized by an occasional inrush of travel from +Belgium and Germany; but most of them had closed or were being +hastily transformed into hospitals. + +The signs over these hotel doors first disturbed the dreaming +harmony of Paris. In a night, as it seemed, the whole city was hung +with Red Crosses. Every other building showed the red and white band +across its front, with "Ouvroir" or "Hopital" beneath; there +was something sinister in these preparations for horrors in which +one could not yet believe, in the making of bandages for limbs yet +sound and whole, the spreading of pillows for heads yet carried +high. But insist as they would on the woe to come, these warning +signs did not deeply stir the trance of Paris. The first days of the +war were full of a kind of unrealizing confidence, not boastful or +fatuous, yet as different as possible from the clear-headed tenacity +of purpose that the experience of the next few months was to +develop. It is hard to evoke, without seeming to exaggerate it, that +the mood of early August: the assurance, the balance, the kind of +smiling fatalism with which Paris moved to her task. It is not +impossible that the beauty of the season and the silence of the city +may have helped to produce this mood. War, the shrieking fury, had +announced herself by a great wave of stillness. Never was desert +hush more complete: the silence of a street is always so much deeper +than the silence of wood or field. + +The heaviness of the August air intensified this impression of +suspended life. The days were dumb enough; but at night the hush +became acute. In the quarter I inhabit, always deserted in summer, +the shuttered streets were mute as catacombs, and the faintest +pin-prick of noise seemed to tear a rent in a black pall of silence. +I could hear the tired tap of a lame hoof half a mile away, and the +tread of the policeman guarding the Embassy across the street beat +against the pavement like a series of detonations. Even the +variegated noises of the city's waking-up had ceased. If any +sweepers, scavengers or rag-pickers still plied their trades they +did it as secretly as ghosts. I remember one morning being roused +out of a deep sleep by a sudden explosion of noise in my room. I sat +up with a start, and found I had been waked by a low-voiced exchange +of "Bonjours" in the street... + +Another fact that kept the reality of war from Paris was the curious +absence of troops in the streets. After the first rush of conscripts +hurrying to their military bases it might have been imagined that +the reign of peace had set in. While smaller cities were swarming +with soldiers no glitter of arms was reflected in the empty avenues +of the capital, no military music sounded through them. Paris +scorned all show of war, and fed the patriotism of her children on +the mere sight of her beauty. It was enough. + +Even when the news of the first ephemeral successes in Alsace began +to come in, the Parisians did not swerve from their even gait. The +newsboys did all the shouting--and even theirs was presently +silenced by decree. It seemed as though it had been unanimously, +instinctively decided that the Paris of 1914 should in no respect +resemble the Paris of 1870, and as though this resolution had passed +at birth into the blood of millions born since that fatal date, and +ignorant of its bitter lesson. The unanimity of self-restraint was +the notable characteristic of this people suddenly plunged into an +unsought and unexpected war. At first their steadiness of spirit +might have passed for the bewilderment of a generation born and bred +in peace, which did not yet understand what war implied. But it is +precisely on such a mood that easy triumphs might have been supposed +to have the most disturbing effect. It was the crowd in the street +that shouted "A Berlin!" in 1870; now the crowd in the street +continued to mind its own business, in spite of showers of extras +and too-sanguine bulletins. + +I remember the morning when our butcher's boy brought the news that +the first German flag had been hung out on the balcony of the +Ministry of War. Now I thought, the Latin will boil over! And I +wanted to be there to see. I hurried down the quiet rue de +Martignac, turned the corner of the Place Sainte Clotilde, and came +on an orderly crowd filling the street before the Ministry of War. +The crowd was so orderly that the few pacific gestures of the police +easily cleared a way for passing cabs, and for the military motors +perpetually dashing up. It was composed of all classes, and there +were many family groups, with little boys straddling their mothers' +shoulders, or lifted up by the policemen when they were too heavy +for their mothers. It is safe to say that there was hardly a man or +woman of that crowd who had not a soldier at the front; and there +before them hung the enemy's first flag--a splendid silk flag, white +and black and crimson, and embroidered in gold. It was the flag of +an Alsatian regiment--a regiment of Prussianized Alsace. It +symbolized all they most abhorred in the whole abhorrent job that +lay ahead of them; it symbolized also their finest ardour and their +noblest hate, and the reason why, if every other reason failed, +France could never lay down arms till the last of such flags was +low. And there they stood and looked at it, not dully or +uncomprehendingly, but consciously, advisedly, and in silence; as if +already foreseeing all it would cost to keep that flag and add to it +others like it; forseeing the cost and accepting it. There seemed to +be men's hearts even in the children of that crowd, and in the +mothers whose weak arms held them up. So they gazed and went on, and +made way for others like them, who gazed in their turn and went on +too. All day the crowd renewed itself, and it was always the same +crowd, intent and understanding and silent, who looked steadily at +the flag, and knew what its being there meant. That, in August, was +the look of Paris. + + + + + +III + +FEBRUARY + + + + +FEBRUARY dusk on the Seine. The boats are plying again, but they +stop at nightfall, and the river is inky-smooth, with the same long +weed-like reflections as in August. Only the reflections are fewer +and paler; bright lights are muffled everywhere. The line of the +quays is scarcely discernible, and the heights of the Trocadero are +lost in the blur of night, which presently effaces even the firm +tower-tops of Notre-Dame. Down the damp pavements only a few street +lamps throw their watery zigzags. The shops are shut, and the +windows above them thickly curtained. The faces of the houses are +all blind. + +In the narrow streets of the Rive Gauche the darkness is even +deeper, and the few scattered lights in courts or "cites" create +effects of Piranesi-like mystery. The gleam of the +chestnut-roaster's brazier at a street corner deepens the sense of +an old adventurous Italy, and the darkness beyond seems full of +cloaks and conspiracies. I turn, on my way home, into an empty +street between high garden walls, with a single light showing far +off at its farther end. Not a soul is in sight between me and that +light: my steps echo endlessly in the silence. Presently a dim +figure comes around the corner ahead of me. Man or woman? Impossible +to tell till I overtake it. The February fog deepens the darkness, +and the faces one passes are indistinguishable. As for the numbers +of the houses, no one thinks of looking for them. If you know the +quarter you count doors from the corner, or try to puzzle out the +familiar outline of a balcony or a pediment; if you are in a strange +street, you must ask at the nearest tobacconist's--for, as for +finding a policeman, a yard off you couldn't tell him from your +grandmother! + +Such, after six months of war, are the nights of Paris; the days are +less remarkable and less romantic. + +Almost all the early flush and shiver of romance is gone; or so at +least it seems to those who have watched the gradual revival of +life. It may appear otherwise to observers from other countries, +even from those involved in the war. After London, with all her +theaters open, and her machinery of amusement almost unimpaired, +Paris no doubt seems like a city on whom great issues weigh. But to +those who lived through that first sunlit silent month the streets +to-day show an almost normal activity. The vanishing of all the +motorbuses, and of the huge lumbering commercial vans, leaves many a +forgotten perspective open and reveals many a lost grace of +architecture; but the taxi-cabs and private motors are almost as +abundant as in peace-time, and the peril of pedestrianism is kept at +its normal pitch by the incessant dashing to and fro of those +unrivalled engines of destruction, the hospital and War Office +motors. Many shops have reopened, a few theatres are tentatively +producing patriotic drama or mixed programmes seasonal with +sentiment and mirth, and the cinema again unrolls its eventful +kilometres. + +For a while, in September and October, the streets were made +picturesque by the coming and going of English soldiery, and the +aggressive flourish of British military motors. Then the fresh faces +and smart uniforms disappeared, and now the nearest approach to +"militarism" which Paris offers to the casual sight-seer is the +occasional drilling of a handful of _piou-pious _on the muddy +reaches of the Place des Invalides. But there is another army in +Paris. Its first detachments came months ago, in the dark September +days--lamentable rear-guard of the Allies' retreat on Paris. Since +then its numbers have grown and grown, its dingy streams have +percolated through all the currents of Paris life, so that wherever +one goes, in every quarter and at every hour, among the busy +confident strongly-stepping Parisians one sees these other people, +dazed and slowly moving--men and women with sordid bundles on their +backs, shuffling along hesitatingly in their tattered shoes, +children dragging at their hands and tired-out babies pressed +against their shoulders: the great army of the Refugees. Their faces +are unmistakable and unforgettable. No one who has ever caught that +stare of dumb bewilderment--or that other look of concentrated +horror, full of the reflection of flames and ruins--can shake off +the obsession of the Refugees. The look in their eyes is part of the +look of Paris. It is the dark shadow on the brightness of the face +she turns to the enemy. These poor people cannot look across the +borders to eventual triumph. They belong mostly to a class whose +knowledge of the world's affairs is measured by the shadow of their +village steeple. They are no more curious of the laws of causation +than the thousands overwhelmed at Avezzano. They were ploughing and +sowing, spinning and weaving and minding their business, when +suddenly a great darkness full of fire and blood came down on them. +And now they are here, in a strange country, among unfamiliar faces +and new ways, with nothing left to them in the world but the memory +of burning homes and massacred children and young men dragged to +slavery, of infants torn from their mothers, old men trampled by +drunken heels and priests slain while they prayed beside the dying. +These are the people who stand in hundreds every day outside the +doors of the shelters improvised to rescue them, and who receive, in +return for the loss of everything that makes life sweet, or +intelligible, or at least endurable, a cot in a dormitory, a +meal-ticket--and perhaps, on lucky days, a pair of shoes... + +What are the Parisians doing meanwhile? For one thing--and the sign +is a good one--they are refilling the shops, and especially, of +course, the great "department stores." In the early war days there +was no stranger sight than those deserted palaces, where one strayed +between miles of unpurchased wares in quest of vanished salesmen. A +few clerks, of course, were left: enough, one would have thought, +for the rare purchasers who disturbed their meditations. But the few +there were did not care to be disturbed: they lurked behind their +walls of sheeting, their bastions of flannelette, as if ashamed to +be discovered. And when one had coaxed them out they went through +the necessary gestures automatically, as if mournfully wondering +that any one should care to buy. I remember once, at the Louvre, +seeing the whole force of a "department," including the salesman I +was trying to cajole into showing me some medicated gauze, desert +their posts simultaneously to gather about a motor-cyclist in a +muddy uniform who had dropped in to see his pals with tales from the +front. But after six months the pressure of normal appetites has +begun to reassert itself--and to shop is one of the normal appetites +of woman. I say "shop" instead of buy, to distinguish between the +dull purchase of necessities and the voluptuousness of acquiring +things one might do without. It is evident that many of the +thousands now fighting their way into the great shops must be +indulging in the latter delight. At a moment when real wants are +reduced to a minimum, how else account for the congestion of the +department store? Even allowing for the immense, the perpetual +buying of supplies for hospitals and work-rooms, the incessant +stoking-up of the innumerable centres of charitable production, +there is no explanation of the crowding of the other departments +except the fact that woman, however valiant, however tried, however +suffering and however self-denying, must eventually, in the long +run, and at whatever cost to her pocket and her ideals, begin to +shop again. She has renounced the theatre, she denies herself the +teo-rooms, she goes apologetically and furtively (and economically) +to concerts--but the swinging doors of the department stores suck +her irresistibly into their quicksand of remnants and reductions. + +No one, in this respect, would wish the look of Paris to be changed. +It is a good sign to see the crowds pouring into the shops again, +even though the sight is less interesting than that of the other +crowds streaming daily--and on Sunday in immensely augmented +numbers--across the Pont Alexandre III to the great court of the +Invalides where the German trophies are displayed. Here the heart of +France beats with a richer blood, and something of its glow passes +into foreign veins as one watches the perpetually renewed throngs +face to face with the long triple row of German guns. There are few +in those throngs to whom one of the deadly pack has not dealt a +blow; there are personal losses, lacerating memories, bound up with +the sight of all those evil engines. But personal sorrow is the +sentiment least visible in the look of Paris. It is not fanciful to +say that the Parisian face, after six months of trial, has acquired +a new character. The change seems to have affected the very stuff it +is moulded of, as though the long ordeal had hardened the poor human +clay into some dense commemorative substance. I often pass in the +street women whose faces look like memorial medals--idealized images +of what they were in the flesh. And the masks of some of the +men--those queer tormented Gallic masks, crushed-in and squat and a +little satyr-like--look like the bronzes of the Naples Museum, burnt +and twisted from their baptism of fire. But none of these faces +reveals a personal preoccupation: they are looking, one and all, at +France erect on her borders. Even the women who are comparing +different widths of Valenciennes at the lace-counter all have +something of that vision in their eyes--or else one does not see the +ones who haven't. + +It is still true of Paris that she has not the air of a capital in +arms. There are as few troops to be seen as ever, and but for the +coming and going of the orderlies attached to the War Office and the +Military Government, and the sprinkling of uniforms about the doors +of barracks, there would be no sign of war in the streets--no sign, +that is, except the presence of the wounded. It is only lately that +they have begun to appear, for in the early months of the war they +were not sent to Paris, and the splendidly appointed hospitals of +the capital stood almost empty, while others, all over the country, +were overcrowded. The motives for the disposal of the wounded have +been much speculated upon and variously explained: one of its +results may have been the maintaining in Paris of the extraordinary +moral health which has given its tone to the whole country, and +which is now sound and strong enough to face the sight of any +misery. + +And miseries enough it has to face. Day by day the limping figures +grow more numerous on the pavement, the pale bandaged heads more +frequent in passing carriages. In the stalls at the theatres and +concerts there are many uniforms; and their wearers usually have to +wait till the hall is emptied before they hobble out on a supporting +arm. Most of them are very young, and it is the expression of their +faces which I should like to picture and interpret as being the very +essence of what I have called the look of Paris. They are grave, +these young faces: one hears a great deal of the gaiety in the +trenches, but the wounded are not gay. Neither are they sad, +however. They are calm, meditative, strangely purified and matured. +It is as though their great experience had purged them of pettiness, +meanness and frivolity, burning them down to the bare bones of +character, the fundamental substance of the soul, and shaping that +substance into something so strong and finely tempered that for a +long time to come Paris will not care to wear any look unworthy of +the look on their faces. + + + + + + +IN ARGONNE + +I + + + + + +The permission to visit a few ambulances and evacuation hospitals +behind the lines gave me, at the end of February, my first sight of +War. + +Paris is no longer included in the military zone, either in fact or +in appearance. Though it is still manifestly under the war-cloud, +its air of reviving activity produces the illusion that the menace +which casts that cloud is far off not only in distance but in time. +Paris, a few months ago so alive to the nearness of the enemy, seems +to have grown completely oblivious of that nearness; and it is +startling, not more than twenty miles from the gates, to pass from +such an atmosphere of workaday security to the imminent sense of +war. + +Going eastward, one begins to feel the change just beyond Meaux. +Between that quiet episcopal city and the hill-town of Montmirail, +some forty miles farther east, there are no sensational evidences of +the great conflict of September--only, here and there, in an +unploughed field, or among the fresh brown furrows, a little mound +with a wooden cross and a wreath on it. Nevertheless, one begins to +perceive, by certain negative signs, that one is already in another +world. On the cold February day when we turned out of Meaux and took +the road to the Argonne, the change was chiefly shown by the curious +absence of life in the villages through which we passed. Now and +then a lonely ploughman and his team stood out against the sky, or a +child and an old woman looked from a doorway; but many of the fields +were fallow and most of the doorways empty. We passed a few carts +driven by peasants, a stray wood-cutter in a copse, a road-mender +hammering at his stones; but already the "civilian motor" had +disappeared, and all the dust-coloured cars dashing past us were +marked with the Red Cross or the number of an army division. At +every bridge and railway-crossing a sentinel, standing in the middle +of the road with lifted rifle, stopped the motor and examined our +papers. In this negative sphere there was hardly any other tangible +proof of military rule; but with the descent of the first hill +beyond Montmirail there came the positive feeling: _This is war!_ + +Along the white road rippling away eastward over the dimpled country +the army motors were pouring by in endless lines, broken now and +then by the dark mass of a tramping regiment or the clatter of a +train of artillery. In the intervals between these waves of military +traffic we had the road to ourselves, except for the flashing past +of despatch-bearers on motor-cycles and of hideously hooting little +motors carrying goggled officers in goat-skins and woollen helmets. + +The villages along the road all seemed empty--not figuratively but +literally empty. None of them has suffered from the German invasion, +save by the destruction, here and there, of a single house on which +some random malice has wreaked itself; but since the general flight +in September all have remained abandoned, or are provisionally +occupied by troops, and the rich country between Montmirail and +Chalons is a desert. + +The first sight of Chame is extraordinarily exhilarating. The old +town lying so pleasantly between canal and river is the +Head-quarters of an army--not of a corps or of a division, but of a +whole army--and the network of grey provincial streets about the +Romanesque towers of Notre Dame rustles with the movement of war. +The square before the principal hotel--the incomparably named "Haute +Mere-Dieu"--is as vivid a sight as any scene of modern war +can be. Rows of grey motor-lorries and omnibuses do not lend +themselves to as happy groupings as a detachment of cavalry, and +spitting and spurting motor-cycles and "torpedo" racers are no +substitute for the glitter of helmets and the curvetting of +chargers; but once the eye has adapted itself to the ugly lines and +the neutral tints of the new warfare, the scene in that crowded +clattering square becomes positively brilliant. It is a vision of +one of the central functions of a great war, in all its concentrated +energy, without the saddening suggestions of what, on the distant +periphery, that energy is daily and hourly resulting in. Yet even +here such suggestions are never long out of sight; for one cannot +pass through Chalons without meeting, on their way from the station, +a long line of "eclopes"--the unwounded but battered, shattered, +frost-bitten, deafened and half-paralyzed wreckage of the +awful struggle. These poor wretches, in their thousands, are daily +shipped back from the front to rest and be restored; and it is a +grim sight to watch them limping by, and to meet the dazed stare of +eyes that have seen what one dare not picture. + +If one could think away the "'eclopes" in the streets and the +wounded in their hospitals, Chalons would be an invigorating +spectacle. When we drove up to the hotel even the grey motors and +the sober uniforms seemed to sparkle under the cold sky. The +continual coming and going of alert and busy messengers, the riding +up of officers (for some still ride!), the arrival of much-decorated +military personages in luxurious motors, the hurrying to and fro of +orderlies, the perpetual depleting and refilling of the long rows of +grey vans across the square, the movements of Red Cross ambulances +and the passing of detachments for the front, all these are sights +that the pacific stranger could forever gape at. And in the hotel, +what a clatter of swords, what a piling up of fur coats and +haversacks, what a grouping of bronzed energetic heads about the +packed tables in the restaurant! It is not easy for civilians to get +to Chalons, and almost every table is occupied by officers and +soldiers--for, once off duty, there seems to be no rank distinction +in this happy democratic army, and the simple private, if he chooses +to treat himself to the excellent fare of the Haute Mere-Dieu, has +as good a right to it as his colonel. + +The scene in the restaurant is inexhaustibly interesting. The mere +attempt to puzzle out the different uniforms is absorbing. A week's +experience near the front convinces me that no two uniforms in the +French army are alike either in colour or in cut. Within the last +two years the question of colour has greatly preoccupied the French +military authorities, who have been seeking an invisible blue; and +the range of their experiments is proved by the extraordinary +variety of shades of blue, ranging from a sort of greyish +robin's-egg to the darkest navy, in which the army is clothed. The +result attained is the conviction that no blue is really +inconspicuous, and that some of the harsh new slaty tints are no +less striking than the deeper shades they have superseded. But to +this scale of experimental blues, other colours must be added: the +poppy-red of the Spahis' tunics, and various other less familiar +colours--grey, and a certain greenish khaki--the use of which is due +to the fact that the cloth supply has given out and that all +available materials are employed. As for the differences in cut, the +uniforms vary from the old tight tunic to the loose belted jacket +copied from the English, and the emblems of the various arms and +ranks embroidered on these diversified habits add a new element of +perplexity. The aviator's wings, the motorist's wheel, and many of +the newer symbols, are easily recognizable--but there are all the +other arms, and the doctors and the stretcher-bearers, the sappers +and miners, and heaven knows how many more ramifications of this +great host which is really all the nation. + +The main interest of the scene, however, is that it shows almost as +many types as uniforms, and that almost all the types are so good. +One begins to understand (if one has failed to before) why the +French say of themselves: "_La France est une nation guerriere._" +War is the greatest of paradoxes: the most senseless and +disheartening of human retrogressions, and yet the stimulant of +qualities of soul which, in every race, can seemingly find no other +means of renewal. Everything depends, therefore, on the category of +impulses that war excites in a people. Looking at the faces at +Chalons, one sees at once in which [Page 54] sense the French are +"une nation guerriere." It is not too much to say that war has given +beauty to faces that were interesting, humorous, acute, malicious, a +hundred vivid and expressive things, but last and least of all +beautiful. Almost all the faces about these crowded tables--young or +old, plain or handsome, distinguished or average--have the same look +of quiet authority: it is as though all "nervosity," fussiness, +little personal oddities, meannesses and vulgarities, had been burnt +away in a great flame of self-dedication. It is a wonderful example +of the rapidity with which purpose models the human countenance. +More than half of these men were probably doing dull or useless or +unimportant things till the first of last August; now each one of +them, however small his job, is sharing in a great task, and knows +it, and has been made over by knowing it. + +Our road on leaving Chalons continued to run northeastward toward +the hills of the Argonne. + +We passed through more deserted villages, with soldiers lounging in +the doors where old women should have sat with their distaffs, +soldiers watering their horses in the village pond, soldiers cooking +over gypsy fires in the farm-yards. In the patches of woodland along +the road we came upon more soldiers, cutting down pine saplings, +chopping them into even lengths and loading them on hand-carts, with +the green boughs piled on top. We soon saw to what use they were +put, for at every cross-road or railway bridge a warm sentry-box of +mud and straw and plaited pine-branches was plastered against a bank +or tucked like a swallow's nest into a sheltered corner. A little +farther on we began to come more and more frequently on big colonies +of "Seventy-fives." Drawn up nose to nose, usually against a curtain +of woodland, in a field at some distance from the road, and always +attended by a cumbrous drove of motor-vans, they looked like giant +gazelles feeding among elephants; and the stables of woven +pine-boughs which stood near by might have been the huge huts of +their herdsmen. + +The country between Marne and Meuse is one of the regions on which +German fury spent itself most bestially during the abominable +September days. Half way between Chalons and Sainte Menehould we +came on the first evidence of the invasion: the lamentable ruins of +the village of Auve. These pleasant villages of the Aisne, with +their one long street, their half-timbered houses and high-roofed +granaries with espaliered gable-ends, are all much of one pattern, +and one can easily picture what Auve must have been as it looked +out, in the blue September weather, above the ripening pears of its +gardens to the crops in the valley and the large landscape beyond. +Now it is a mere waste of rubble [Page 58] and cinders, not one +threshold distinguishable from another. We saw many other ruined +villages after Auve, but this was the first, and perhaps for that +reason one had there, most hauntingly, the vision of all the +separate terrors, anguishes, uprootings and rendings apart involved +in the destruction of the obscurest of human communities. The +photographs on the walls, the twigs of withered box above the +crucifixes, the old wedding-dresses in brass-clamped trunks, the +bundles of letters laboriously written and as painfully deciphered, +all the thousand and one bits of the past that give meaning and +continuity to the present--of all that accumulated warmth nothing was +left but a brick-heap and some twisted stove-pipes! + +As we ran on toward Sainte Menehould the names on our map showed us +that, just beyond the parallel range of hills six or seven miles to +the north, the two armies lay interlocked. But we heard no cannon +yet, and the first visible evidence of the nearness of the struggle +was the encounter, at a bend of the road, of a long line of +grey-coated figures tramping toward us between the bayonets of their +captors. They were a sturdy lot, this fresh "bag" from the hills, of +a fine fighting age, and much less famished and war-worn than one +could have wished. Their broad blond faces were meaningless, +guarded, but neither defiant nor unhappy: they seemed none too sorry +for their fate. + +Our pass from the General Head-quarters carried us to Sainte +Menehould on the edge of the Argonne, where we had to apply to the +Head-quarters of the division for a farther extension. The Staff are +lodged in a house considerably the worse for German occupancy, where +offices have been improvised by means of wooden hoardings, and +where, sitting in a bare passage on a frayed damask sofa surmounted +by theatrical posters and faced by a bed with a plum-coloured +counterpane, we listened for a while to the jingle of telephones, +the rat-tat of typewriters, the steady hum of dictation and the +coming and going of hurried despatch-bearers and orderlies. The +extension to the permit was presently delivered with the courteous +request that we should push on to Verdun as fast as possible, as +civilian motors were not wanted on the road that afternoon; and this +request, coupled with the evident stir of activity at Head-quarters, +gave us the impression that there must be a good deal happening +beyond the low line of hills to the north. How much there was we +were soon to know. + +We left Sainte Menehould at about eleven, and before twelve o'clock +we were nearing a large village on a ridge from which the land swept +away to right and left in ample reaches. The first glimpse of the +outlying houses showed nothing unusual; but presently the main +street turned and dipped downward, and below and beyond us lay a +long stretch of ruins: the calcined remains of Clermont-en-Argonne, +destroyed by the Germans on the 4th of September. The free and lofty +situation of the little town--for it was really a good deal more +than a village--makes its present state the more lamentable. One can +see it from so far off, and through the torn traceries of its ruined +church the eye travels over so lovely a stretch of country! No doubt +its beauty enriched the joy of wrecking it. + +At the farther end of what was once the main street another small +knot of houses has survived. Chief among them is the Hospice for old +men, where Sister Gabrielle Rosnet, when the authorities of Clermont +took to their heels, stayed behind to defend her charges, and where, +ever since, she has nursed an undiminishing stream of wounded from +the eastern front. We found Soeur Rosnet, with her Sisters, +preparing the midday meal of her patients in the little kitchen of +the Hospice: the kitchen which is also her dining-room and private +office. She insisted on our finding time to share the _filet_ and +fried potatoes that were just being taken off the stove, and while +we lunched she told us the story of the invasion--of the Hospice +doors broken down "a coups de crosse" and the grey officers bursting +in with revolvers, and finding her there before them, in the big +vaulted vestibule, "alone with my old men and my Sisters." Soeur +Gabrielle Rosnet is a small round active woman, with a shrewd and +ruddy face of the type that looks out calmly from the dark +background of certain Flemish pictures. Her blue eyes are full of +warmth and humour, and she puts as much gaiety as wrath into her +tale. She does not spare epithets in talking of "ces satanes +Allemands"--these Sisters and nurses of the front have seen sights +to dry up the last drop of sentimental pity--but through all the +horror of those fierce September days, with Clermont blazing about +her and the helpless remnant of its inhabitants under the perpetual +threat of massacre, she retained her sense of the little inevitable +absurdities of life, such as her not knowing how to address the +officer in command "because he was so tall that I couldn't see up to +his shoulder-straps."--"Et ils etaient tous comme ca," she added, a +sort of reluctant admiration in her eyes. + +A subordinate "good Sister" had just cleared the table and poured +out our coffee when a woman came in to say, in a matter-of-fact +tone, that there was hard fighting going on across the valley. She +added calmly, as she dipped our plates into a tub, that an obus had +just fallen a mile or two off, and that if we liked we could see the +fighting from a garden over the way. It did not take us long to +reach that garden! Soeur Gabrielle showed the way, bouncing up the +stairs of a house across the street, and flying at her heels we came +out on a grassy terrace full of soldiers. + +The cannon were booming without a pause, and seemingly so near that +it was bewildering to look out across empty fields at a hillside +that seemed like any other. But luckily somebody had a field-glass, +and with its help a little corner of the battle of Vauquois was +suddenly brought close to us--the rush of French infantry up the +slopes, the feathery drift of French gun-smoke lower down, and, high +up, on the wooded crest along the sky, the red lightnings and white +puffs of the German artillery. Rap, rap, rap, went the answering +guns, as the troops swept up and disappeared into the fire-tongued +wood; and we stood there dumbfounded at the accident of having +stumbled on this visible episode of the great subterranean struggle. + +Though Soeur Rosnet had seen too many such sights to be much moved, +she was full of a lively curiosity, and stood beside us, squarely +planted in the mud, holding the field-glass to her eyes, or passing +it laughingly about among the soldiers. But as we turned to go she +said: "They've sent us word to be ready for another four hundred +to-night"; and the twinkle died out of her good eyes. + +Her expectations were to be dreadfully surpassed; for, as we learned +a fortnight later from a three column _communique,_ the scene we had +assisted at was no less than the first act of the successful assault +on the high-perched village of Vauquois, a point of the first +importance to the Germans, since it masked their operations to the +north of Varennes and commanded the railway by which, since +September, they have been revictualling and reinforcing their army +in the Argonne. Vauquois had been taken by them at the end of +September and, thanks to its strong position on a rocky spur, had +been almost impregnably fortified; but the attack we looked on at +from the garden of Clermont, on Sunday, February 28th, carried the +victorious French troops to the top of the ridge, and made them +masters of a part of the village. Driven from it again that night, +they were to retake it after a five days' struggle of exceptional +violence and prodigal heroism, and are now securely established +there in a position described as "of vital importance to the +operations." "But what it cost!" Soeur Gabrielle said, when we saw +her again a few days later. + + + + + +II + + + + +The time had come to remember our promise and hurry away from +Clermont; but a few miles farther our attention was arrested by the +sight of the Red Cross over a village house. The house was little +more than a hovel, the village--Blercourt it was called--a mere +hamlet of scattered cottages and cow-stables: a place so easily +overlooked that it seemed likely our supplies might be needed there. + +An orderly went to find the _medecin-chef_, and we waded after him +through the mud to one after another of the cottages in which, with +admirable ingenuity, he had managed to create out of next to nothing +the indispensable requirements of a second-line ambulance: +sterilizing and disinfecting appliances, a bandage-room, a pharmacy, +a well-filled wood-shed, and a clean kitchen in which "tisanes" were +brewing over a cheerful fire. A detachment of cavalry was quartered +in the village, which the trampling of hoofs had turned into a great +morass, and as we picked our way from cottage to cottage in the +doctor's wake he told us of the expedients to which he had been put +to secure even the few hovels into which his patients were crowded. +It was a complaint we were often to hear repeated along this line of +the front, where troops and wounded are packed in thousands into +villages meant to house four or five hundred; and we admired the +skill and devotion with which he had dealt with the difficulty, and +managed to lodge his patients decently. + +We came back to the high-road, and he asked us if we should like to +see the church. It was about three o'clock, and in the low porch the +cure was ringing the bell for vespers. We pushed open the inner +doors and went in. The church was without aisles, and down the nave +stood four rows of wooden cots with brown blankets. In almost every +one lay a soldier--the doctor's "worst cases"--few of them wounded, +the greater number stricken with fever, bronchitis, frost-bite, +pleurisy, or some other form of trench-sickness too severe to permit +of their being carried farther from the front. One or two heads +turned on the pillows as we entered, but for the most part the men +did not move. + +The cure, meanwhile, passing around to the sacristy, had come out +before the altar in his vestments, followed by a little white +acolyte. A handful of women, probably the only "civil" inhabitants +left, and some of the soldiers we had seen about the village, had +entered the church and stood together between the rows of cots; and +the service began. It was a sunless afternoon, and the picture was +all in monastic shades of black and white and ashen grey: the sick +under their earth-coloured blankets, their livid faces against the +pillows, the black dresses of the women (they seemed all to be in +mourning) and the silver haze floating out from the little acolyte's +censer. The only light in the scene--the candle-gleams on the altar, +and their reflection in the embroideries of the cure's +chasuble--were like a faint streak of sunset on the winter dusk. + +For a while the long Latin cadences sounded on through the church; +but presently the cure took up in French the Canticle of the Sacred +Heart, composed during the war of 1870, and the little congregation +joined their trembling voices in the refrain: + +"_Sauvez, sauvez la France, +Ne l'abandonnez pas!_" + +The reiterated appeal rose in a sob above the rows of bodies in the +nave: "_Sauvez, sauvez la France_," the women wailed it near the +altar, the soldiers took it up from the door in stronger tones; but +the bodies in the cots never stirred, and more and more, as the day +faded, the church looked like a quiet grave-yard in a battle-field. + +After we had left Sainte Menehould the sense of the nearness and +all-pervadingness of the war became even more vivid. Every road +branching away to our left was a finger touching a red wound: +Varennes, le Four de Paris, le Bois de la Grurie, were not more than +eight or ten miles to the north. Along our own road the stream of +motor-vans and the trains of ammunition grew longer and more +frequent. Once we passed a long line of "Seventy-fives" going single +file up a hillside, farther on we watched a big detachment of +artillery galloping across a stretch of open country. The movement +of supplies was continuous, and every village through which we +passed swarmed with soldiers busy loading or unloading the big vans, +or clustered about the commissariat motors while hams and quarters +of beef were handed out. As we approached Verdun the cannonade had +grown louder again; and when we reached the walls of the town and +passed under the iron teeth of the portcullis we felt ourselves in +one of the last outposts of a mighty line of defense. The desolation +of Verdun is as impressive as the feverish activity of +Chalons. The civil population was evacuated in September, and +only a small percentage have returned. Nine-tenths of the shops are +closed, and as the troops are nearly all in the trenches there is +hardly any movement in the streets. + +The first duty of the traveller who has successfully passed the +challenge of the sentinel at the gates is to climb the steep hill to +the citadel at the top of the town. Here the military authorities +inspect one's papers, and deliver a "permis de sejour" which must be +verified by the police before lodgings can be obtained. We found the +principal hotel much less crowded than the Haute Mere-Dieu at +Chalons, though many of the officers of the garrison mess +there. The whole atmosphere of the place was different: silent, +concentrated, passive. To the chance observer, Verdun appears to +live only in its hospitals; and of these there are fourteen within +the walls alone. As darkness fell, the streets became completely +deserted, and the cannonade seemed to grow nearer and more +incessant. That first night the hush was so intense that every +reverberation from the dark hills beyond the walls brought out in +the mind its separate vision of destruction; and then, just as the +strained imagination could bear no more, the thunder ceased. A +moment later, in a court below my windows, a pigeon began to coo; +and all night long the two sounds strangely alternated... + +On entering the gates, the first sight to attract us had been a +colony of roughly-built bungalows scattered over the miry slopes of +a little park adjoining the railway station, and surmounted by the +sign: "Evacuation Hospital No. 6." The next morning we went to visit +it. A part of the station buildings has been adapted to hospital +use, and among them a great roofless hall, which the surgeon in +charge has covered in with canvas and divided down its length into a +double row of tents. Each tent contains two wooden cots, +scrupulously clean and raised high above the floor; and the immense +ward is warmed by a row of stoves down the central passage. In the +bungalows across the road are beds for the patients who are to be +kept for a time before being transferred to the hospitals in the +town. In one bungalow an operating-room has been installed, in +another are the bathing arrangements for the newcomers from the +trenches. Every possible device for the relief of the wounded has +been carefully thought out and intelligently applied by the surgeon +in charge and the _infirmiere major_ who indefatigably seconds him. +Evacuation Hospital No. 6 sprang up in an hour, almost, on the +dreadful August day when four thousand wounded lay on stretchers +between the railway station and the gate of the little park across +the way; and it has gradually grown into the model of what such a +hospital may become in skilful and devoted hands. + +Verdun has other excellent hospitals for the care of the severely +wounded who cannot be sent farther from the front. Among them St. +Nicolas, in a big airy building on the Meuse, is an example of a +great French Military Hospital at its best; but I visited few +others, for the main object of my journey was to get to some of the +second-line ambulances beyond the town. The first we went to was in +a small village to the north of Verdun, not far from the enemy's +lines at Cosenvoye, and was fairly representative of all the others. +The dreary muddy village was crammed with troops, and the ambulance +had been installed at haphazard in such houses as the military +authorities could spare. The arrangements were primitive but clean, +and even the dentist had set up his apparatus in one of the rooms. +The men lay on mattresses or in wooden cots, and the rooms were +heated by stoves. The great need, here as everywhere, was for +blankets and clean underclothing; for the wounded are brought in +from the front encrusted with frozen mud, and usually without having +washed or changed for weeks. There are no women nurses in these +second-line ambulances, but all the army doctors we saw seemed +intelligent, and anxious to do the best they could for their men in +conditions of unusual hardship. The principal obstacle in their way +is the over-crowded state of the villages. Thousands of soldiers are +camped in all of them, in hygienic conditions that would be bad +enough for men in health; and there is also a great need for light +diet, since the hospital commissariat of the front apparently +supplies no invalid foods, and men burning with fever have to be fed +on meat and vegetables. + +In the afternoon we started out again in a snow-storm, over a +desolate rolling country to the south of Verdun. The wind blew +fiercely across the whitened slopes, and no one was in sight but the +sentries marching up and down the railway lines, and an occasional +cavalryman patrolling the lonely road. Nothing can exceed the +mournfulness of this depopulated land: we might have been wandering +over the wilds of Poland. We ran some twenty miles down the +steel-grey Meuse to a village about four miles west of Les Eparges, +the spot where, for weeks past, a desperate struggle had been going +on. There must have been a lull in the fighting that day, for the +cannon had ceased; but the scene at the point where we left the +motor gave us the sense of being on the very edge of the conflict. +The long straggling village lay on the river, and the trampling of +cavalry and the hauling of guns had turned the land about it into a +mud-flat. Before the primitive cottage where the doctor's office had +been installed were the motors of the surgeon and the medical +inspector who had accompanied us. Near by stood the usual flock of +grey motor-vans, and all about was the coming and going of cavalry +remounts, the riding up of officers, the unloading of supplies, the +incessant activity of mud-splashed sergeants and men. + +The main ambulance was in a grange, of which the two stories had +been partitioned off into wards. Under the cobwebby rafters the men +lay in rows on clean pallets, and big stoves made the rooms dry and +warm. But the great superiority of this ambulance was its nearness +to a canalboat which had been fitted up with hot douches. The boat +was spotlessly clean, and each cabin was shut off by a gay curtain +of red-flowered chintz. Those curtains must do almost as much as the +hot water to make over the _morale_ of the men: they were the most +comforting sight of the day. + +Farther north, and on the other bank of the Meuse, lies another +large village which has been turned into a colony of eclopes. +Fifteen hundred sick or exhausted men are housed there--and there +are no hot douches or chintz curtains to cheer them! We were taken +first to the church, a large featureless building at the head of the +street. In the doorway our passage was obstructed by a mountain of +damp straw which a gang of hostler-soldiers were pitch-forking out +of the aisles. The interior of the church was dim and suffocating. +Between the pillars hung screens of plaited straw, forming little +enclosures in each of which about a dozen sick men lay on more +straw, without mattresses or blankets. No beds, no tables, no +chairs, no washing appliances--in their muddy clothes, as they come +from the front, they are bedded down on the stone floor like cattle +till they are well enough to go back to their job. It was a pitiful +contrast to the little church at Blercourt, with the altar lights +twinkling above the clean beds; and one wondered if even so near the +front, it had to be. "The African village, we call it," one of our +companions said with a laugh: but the African village has blue sky +over it, and a clear stream runs between its mud huts. + +We had been told at Sainte Menehould that, for military reasons, we +must follow a more southerly direction on our return to +Chalons; and when we left Verdun we took the road to +Bar-le-Duc. It runs southwest over beautiful broken country, +untouched by war except for the fact that its villages, like all the +others in this region, are either deserted or occupied by troops. As +we left Verdun behind us the sound of the cannon grew fainter and +died out, and we had the feeling that we were gradually passing +beyond the flaming boundaries into a more normal world; but +suddenly, at a cross-road, a sign-post snatched us back to war: _St. +Mihiel_, 18 _Kilometres_. St. Mihiel, the danger-spot of the region, +the weak joint in the armour! There it lay, up that harmless-looking +bye-road, not much more than ten miles away--a ten minutes' dash +would have brought us into the thick of the grey coats and spiked +helmets! The shadow of that sign-post followed us for miles, +darkening the landscape like the shadow from a racing storm-cloud. + +Bar-le-Duc seemed unaware of the cloud. The charming old town was in +its normal state of provincial apathy: few soldiers were about, and +here at last civilian life again predominated. After a few days on +the edge of the war, in that intermediate region under its solemn +spell, there is something strangely lowering to the mood in the +first sight of a busy unconscious community. One looks +instinctively, in the eyes of the passers by, for a reflection of +that other vision, and feels diminished by contact with people going +so indifferently about their business. + +A little way beyond Bar-le-Duc we came on another phase of the +war-vision, for our route lay exactly in the track of the August +invasion, and between Bar-le-Duc and Vitry-le-Francois the high-road +is lined with ruined towns. The first we came to was Laimont, a +large village wiped out as if a cyclone had beheaded it; then comes +Revigny, a town of over two thousand inhabitants, less completely +levelled because its houses were more solidly built, but a spectacle +of more tragic desolation, with its wide streets winding between +scorched and contorted fragments of masonry, bits of shop-fronts, +handsome doorways, the colonnaded court of a public building. A few +miles farther lies the most piteous of the group: the village of +Heiltz-le-Maurupt, once pleasantly set in gardens and orchards, now +an ugly waste like the others, and with a little church so stripped +and wounded and dishonoured that it lies there by the roadside like +a human victim. + +In this part of the country, which is one of many cross-roads, we +began to have unexpected difficulty in finding our way, for the +names and distances on the milestones have all been effaced, the +sign-posts thrown down and the enamelled _plaques_ on the houses at +the entrance to the villages removed. One report has it that this +precaution was taken by the inhabitants at the approach of the +invading army, another that the Germans themselves demolished the +sign-posts and plastered over the mile-stones in order to paint on +them misleading and encouraging distances. The result is extremely +bewildering, for, all the villages being either in ruins or +uninhabited, there is no one to question but the soldiers one meets, +and their answer is almost invariably "We don't know--we don't +belong here." One is in luck if one comes across a sentinel who +knows the name of the village he is guarding. + +It was the strangest of sensations to find ourselves in a chartless +wilderness within sixty or seventy miles of Paris, and to wander, as +we did, for hours across a high heathery waste, with wide blue +distances to north and south, and in all the scene not a landmark by +means of which we could make a guess at our whereabouts. One of our +haphazard turns at last brought us into a muddy bye-road with long +lines of "Seventy-fives" ranged along its banks like grey ant-eaters +in some monstrous menagerie. A little farther on we came to a +bemired village swarming with artillery and cavalry, and found +ourselves in the thick of an encampment just on the move. It seems +improbable that we were meant to be there, for our arrival caused +such surprise that no sentry remembered to challenge us, and +obsequiously saluting _sous-officiers_ instantly cleared a way for +the motor. So, by a happy accident, we caught one more war-picture, +all of vehement movement, as we passed out of the zone of war. + +We were still very distinctly in it on returning to Chalons, +which, if it had seemed packed on our previous visit, was now +quivering and cracking with fresh crowds. The stir about the +fountain, in the square before the Haute Mere-Dieu, was more +melodramatic than ever. Every one was in a hurry, every one booted +and mudsplashed, and spurred or sworded or despatch-bagged, or +somehow labelled as a member of the huge military beehive. The +privilege of telephoning and telegraphing being denied to civilians +in the war-zone, it was ominous to arrive at night-fall on such a +crowded scene, and we were not surprised to be told that there was +not a room left at the Haute Mere-Dieu, and that even the sofas in +the reading-room had been let for the night. At every other inn in +the town we met with the same answer; and finally we decided to ask +permission to go on as far as Epernay, about twelve miles off. At +Head-quarters we were told that our request could not be granted. No +motors are allowed to circulate after night-fall in the zone of war, +and the officer charged with the distribution of motor-permits +pointed out that, even if an exception were made in our favour, we +should probably be turned back by the first sentinel we met, only to +find ourselves unable to re-enter Chalons without another +permit! This alternative was so alarming that we began to think +ourselves relatively lucky to be on the right side of the gates; and +we went back to the Haute Mere-Dieu to squeeze into a crowded corner +of the restaurant for dinner. The hope that some one might have +suddenly left the hotel in the interval was not realized; but after +dinner we learned from the landlady that she had certain rooms +permanently reserved for the use of the Staff, and that, as these +rooms had not yet been called for that evening, we might possibly be +allowed to occupy them for the night. + +At Chalons the Head-quarters are in the Prefecture, a coldly +handsome building of the eighteenth century, and there, in a +majestic stone vestibule, beneath the gilded ramp of a great festal +staircase, we waited in anxious suspense, among the orderlies and +_estafettes_, while our unusual request was considered. The result +of the deliberation, was an expression of regret: nothing could be +done for us, as officers might at any moment arrive from the General +Head-quarters and require the rooms. It was then past nine o'clock, +and bitterly cold--and we began to wonder. Finally the polite +officer who had been charged to dismiss us, moved to compassion at +our plight, offered to give us a _laissez-passer_ back to Paris. But +Paris was about a hundred and twenty-five miles off, the night was +dark, the cold was piercing--and at every cross-road and railway +crossing a sentinel would have to be convinced of our right to go +farther. We remembered the warning given us earlier in the evening, +and, declining the offer, went out again into the cold. And just +then chance took pity on us. In the restaurant we had run across a +friend attached to the Staff, and now, meeting him again in the +depth of our difficulty, we were told of lodgings to be found near +by. He could not take us there, for it was past the hour when he had +a right to be out, or we either, for that matter, since curfew +sounds at nine at Chalons. But he told us how to find our way +through the maze of little unlit streets about the Cathedral; +standing there beside the motor, in the icy darkness of the deserted +square, and whispering hastily, as he turned to leave us: "You ought +not to be out so late; but the word tonight is _Jena_. When you give +it to the chauffeur, be sure no sentinel overhears you." With that +he was up the wide steps, the glass doors had closed on him, and I +stood there in the pitch-black night, suddenly unable to believe +that I was I, or Chalons Chalons, or that a young man +who in Paris drops in to dine with me and talk over new books and +plays, had been whispering a password in my ear to carry me +unchallenged to a house a few streets away! The sense of unreality +produced by that one word was so overwhelming that for a blissful +moment the whole fabric of what I had been experiencing, the whole +huge and oppressive and unescapable fact of the war, slipped away +like a torn cobweb, and I seemed to see behind it the reassuring +face of things as they used to be. + +The next morning dispelled that vision. We woke to a noise of guns +closer and more incessant than even the first night's cannonade at +Verdun; and when we went out into the streets it seemed as if, +overnight, a new army had sprung out of the ground. Waylaid at one +corner after another by the long tide of troops streaming out +through the town to the northern suburbs, we saw in turn all the +various divisions of the unfolding frieze: first the infantry and +artillery, the sappers and miners, the endless trains of guns and +ammunition, then the long line of grey supply-waggons, and finally +the stretcher-bearers following the Red Cross ambulances. All the +story of a day's warfare was written in the spectacle of that +endless silent flow to the front: and we were to read it again, a +few days later, in the terse announcement of "renewed activity" +about Suippes, and of the bloody strip of ground gained between +Perthes and Beausejour. + + + + + + +IN LORRAINE AND THE VOSGES + +NANCY, May 13th, 1915 + + + + + +Beside me, on my writing-table, stands a bunch of peonies, the jolly +round-faced pink peonies of the village garden. They were picked +this afternoon in the garden of a ruined house at Gerbeviller--a +house so calcined and convulsed that, for epithets dire enough to +fit it, one would have to borrow from a Hebrew prophet gloating over +the fall of a city of idolaters. + +Since leaving Paris yesterday we have passed through streets and +streets of such murdered houses, through town after town spread out +in its last writhings; and before the black holes that were homes, +along the edge of the chasms that were streets, everywhere we have +seen flowers and vegetables springing up in freshly raked and +watered gardens. My pink peonies were not introduced to point the +stale allegory of unconscious Nature veiling Man's havoc: they are +put on my first page as a symbol of conscious human energy coming +back to replant and rebuild the wilderness... + +Last March, in the Argonne, the towns we passed through seemed quite +dead; but yesterday new life was budding everywhere. We were +following another track of the invasion, one of the huge +tiger-scratches that the Beast flung over the land last September, +between Vitry-le-Francois and Bar-le-Duc. Etrepy, Pargny, +Sermaize-les-Bains, Andernay, are the names of this group of +victims: Sermaize a pretty watering-place along wooded slopes, the +others large villages fringed with farms, and all now mere +scrofulous blotches on the soft spring scene. But in many we heard +the sound of hammers, and saw brick-layers and masons at work. Even +in the most mortally stricken there were signs of returning life: +children playing among the stone heaps, and now and then a cautious +older face peering out of a shed propped against the ruins. In one +place an ancient tram-car had been converted into a cafe and +labelled: "Au Restaurant des Ruines"; and everywhere between the +calcined walls the carefully combed gardens aligned their radishes +and lettuce-tops. + +From Bar-le-Duc we turned northeast, and as we entered the forest of +Commercy we began to hear again the Voice of the Front. It was the +warmest and stillest of May days, and in the clearing where we +stopped for luncheon the familiar boom broke with a magnified +loudness on the noonday hush. In the intervals between the crashes +there was not a sound but the gnats' hum in the moist sunshine and +the dryad-call of the cuckoo from greener depths. At the end of the +lane a few cavalrymen rode by in shabby blue, their horses' flanks +glinting like ripe chestnuts. They stopped to chat and accept some +cigarettes, and when they had trotted off again the gnat, the cuckoo +and the cannon took up their trio... + +The town of Commercy looked so undisturbed that the cannonade +rocking it might have been some unheeded echo of the hills. These +frontier towns inured to the clash of war go about their business +with what one might call stolidity if there were not finer, and +truer, names for it. In Commercy, to be sure, there is little +business to go about just now save that connected with the military +occupation; but the peaceful look of the sunny sleepy streets made +one doubt if the fighting line was really less than five miles away... +Yet the French, with an odd perversion of race-vanity, still +persist in speaking of themselves as a "nervous and impressionable" +people! + +This afternoon, on the road to Gerbeviller, we were again in the +track of the September invasion. Over all the slopes now cool with +spring foliage the battle rocked backward and forward during those +burning autumn days; and every mile of the struggle has left its +ghastly traces. The fields are full of wooden crosses which the +ploughshare makes a circuit to avoid; many of the villages have been +partly wrecked, and here and there an isolated ruin marks the +nucleus of a fiercer struggle. But the landscape, in its first sweet +leafiness, is so alive with ploughing and sowing and all the natural +tasks of spring, that the war scars seem like traces of a long-past +woe; and it was not till a bend of the road brought us in sight of +Gerbeviller that we breathed again the choking air of present +horror. + +Gerbeviller, stretched out at ease on its slopes above the Meurthe, +must have been a happy place to live in. The streets slanted up +between scattered houses in gardens to the great Louis XIV +chateau above the town and the church that balanced it. So +much one can reconstruct from the first glimpse across the valley; +but when one enters the town all perspective is lost in chaos. +Gerbeviller has taken to herself the title of "the martyr town"; an +honour to which many sister victims might dispute her claim! But as +a sensational image of havoc it seems improbable that any can +surpass her. Her ruins seem to have been simultaneously vomited up +from the depths and hurled down from the skies, as though she had +perished in some monstrous clash of earthquake and tornado; and it +fills one with a cold despair to know that this double destruction +was no accident of nature but a piously planned and methodically +executed human deed. From the opposite heights the poor little +garden-girt town was shelled like a steel fortress; then, when the +Germans entered, a fire was built in every house, and at the +nicely-timed right moment one of the explosive tabloids which the +fearless Teuton carries about for his land-_Lusitanias_ was tossed +on each hearth. It was all so well done that one wonders--almost +apologetically for German thoroughness--that any of the human rats +escaped from their holes; but some did, and were neatly spitted on +lurking bayonets. + +One old woman, hearing her son's deathcry, rashly looked out of her +door. A bullet instantly laid her low among her phloxes and lilies; +and there, in her little garden, her dead body was dishonoured. It +seemed singularly appropriate, in such a scene, to read above a +blackened doorway the sign: "Monuments Funebres," and to observe +that the house the doorway once belonged to had formed the angle of +a lane called "La Ruelle des Orphelines." + +At one end of the main street of Gerbeviller there once stood a +charming house, of the sober old Lorraine pattern, with low door, +deep roof and ample gables: it was in the garden of this house that +my pink peonies were picked for me by its owner, Mr. Liegeay, a +former Mayor of Gerbeviller, who witnessed all the horrors of the +invasion. + +Mr. Liegeay is now living in a neighbour's cellar, his own being +fully occupied by the debris of his charming house. He told us the +story of the three days of the German occupation; how he and his +wife and niece, and the niece's babies, took to their cellar while +the Germans set the house on fire, and how, peering through a door +into the stable-yard, they saw that the soldiers suspected they were +within and were trying to get at them. Luckily the incendiaries had +heaped wood and straw all round the outside of the house, and the +blaze was so hot that they could not reach the door. Between the +arch of the doorway and the door itself was a half-moon opening; and +Mr. Liegeay and his family, during three days and three nights, +broke up all the barrels in the cellar and threw the bits out +through the opening to feed the fire in the yard. + +Finally, on the third day, when they began to be afraid that the +ruins of the house would fall in on them, they made a dash for +safety. The house was on the edge of the town, and the women and +children managed to get away into the country; but Mr. Liegeay was +surprised in his garden by a German soldier. He made a rush for the +high wall of the adjoining cemetery, and scrambling over it slipped +down between the wall and a big granite cross. The cross was covered +with the hideous wire and glass wreaths dear to French mourners; and +with these opportune mementoes Mr. Liegeay roofed himself in, lying +wedged in his narrow hiding-place from three in the afternoon till +night, and listening to the voices of the soldiers who were hunting +for him among the grave-stones. Luckily it was their last day at +Gerbeviller, and the German retreat saved his life. + +Even in Gerbeviller we saw no worse scene of destruction than the +particular spot in which the ex-mayor stood while he told his story. +He looked about him at the heaps of blackened brick and contorted +iron. "This was my dining-room," he said. "There were some good old +paneling on the walls, and some fine prints that had been a +wedding-present to my grand-father." He led us into another black +pit. "This was our sitting-room: you see what a view we had." He +sighed, and added philosophically: "I suppose we were too well off. +I even had an electric light out there on the terrace, to read my +paper by on summer evenings. Yes, we were too well off..." That +was all. + +Meanwhile all the town had been red with horror--flame and shot and +tortures unnameable; and at the other end of the long street, a +woman, a Sister of Charity, had held her own like Soeur Gabrielle at +Clermont-en-Argonne, gathering her flock of old men and children +about her and interposing her short stout figure between them and +the fury of the Germans. We found her in her Hospice, a ruddy, +indomitable woman who related with a quiet indignation more +thrilling than invective the hideous details of the bloody three +days; but that already belongs to the past, and at present she is +much more concerned with the task of clothing and feeding +Gerbeviller. For two thirds of the population have already "come +home"--that is what they call the return to this desert! "You see," +Soeur Julie explained, "there are the crops to sow, the gardens to +tend. They had to come back. The government is building wooden +shelters for them; and people will surely send us beds and linen." +(Of course they would, one felt as one listened!) "Heavy boots, +too--boots for field-labourers. We want them for women as well as +men--like these." Soeur Julie, smiling, turned up a hob-nailed sole. +"I have directed all the work on our Hospice farm myself. All the +women are working in the fields--we must take the place of the men." +And I seemed to see my pink peonies flowering in the very prints of +her sturdy boots! + + + + + +May 14th. + + + + +Nancy, the most beautiful town in France, has never been as +beautiful as now. Coming back to it last evening from a round of +ruins one felt as if the humbler Sisters sacrificed to spare it were +pleading with one not to forget them in the contemplation of its +dearly-bought perfection. + +The last time I looked out on the great architectural setting of the +Place Stanislas was on a hot July evening, the evening of the +National Fete. The square and the avenues leading to it +swarmed with people, and as darkness fell the balanced lines of +arches and palaces sprang out in many coloured light. Garlands of +lamps looped the arcades leading into the Place de la Carriere, +peacock-coloured fires flared from the Arch of Triumph, long curves +of radiance beat like wings over the thickets of the park, the +sculptures of the fountains, the brown-and-gold foliation of Jean +Damour's great gates; and under this roofing of light was the murmur +of a happy crowd carelessly celebrating the tradition of +half-forgotten victories. + +Now, at sunset, all life ceases in Nancy and veil after veil of +silence comes down on the deserted Place and its empty perspectives. +Last night by nine the few lingering lights in the streets had been +put out, every window was blind, and the moonless night lay over the +city like a canopy of velvet. Then, from some remote point, the arc +of a search-light swept the sky, laid a fugitive pallor on darkened +palace-fronts, a gleam of gold on invisible gates, trembled across +the black vault and vanished, leaving it still blacker. When we came +out of the darkened restaurant on the corner of the square, and the +iron curtain of the entrance had been hastily dropped on us, we +stood in such complete night that it took a waiter's friendly hand +to guide us to the curbstone. Then, as we grew used to the darkness, +we saw it lying still more densely under the colonnade of the Place +de la Carriere and the clipped trees beyond. The ordered masses of +architecture became august, the spaces between them immense, and the +black sky faintly strewn with stars seemed to overarch an enchanted +city. Not a footstep sounded, not a leaf rustled, not a breath of +air drew under the arches. And suddenly, through the dumb night, the +sound of the cannon began. + + + + + +May 14th. + + + + +Luncheon with the General Staff in an old bourgeois house of a +little town as sleepy as "Cranford." In the warm walled gardens +everything was blooming at once: laburnums, lilacs, red hawthorn, +Banksia roses and all the pleasant border plants that go with box +and lavender. Never before did the flowers answer the spring +roll-call with such a rush! Upstairs, in the Empire bedroom which +the General has turned into his study, it was amusingly incongruous +to see the sturdy provincial furniture littered with war-maps, +trench-plans, aeroplane photographs and all the documentation of +modern war. Through the windows bees hummed, the garden rustled, and +one felt, close by, behind the walls of other gardens, the +untroubled continuance of a placid and orderly bourgeois life. + +We started early for Mousson on the Moselle, the ruined +hill-fortress that gives its name to the better-known town at its +foot. Our road ran below the long range of the "Grand Couronne," the +line of hills curving southeast from Pont-a-Mousson to St. +Nicolas du Port. All through this pleasant broken country the battle +shook and swayed last autumn; but few signs of those days are left +except the wooden crosses in the fields. No troops are visible, and +the pictures of war that made the Argonne so tragic last March are +replaced by peaceful rustic scenes. On the way to Mousson the road +is overhung by an Italian-looking village clustered about a +hill-top. It marks the exact spot at which, last August, the German +invasion was finally checked and flung back; and the Muse of History +points out that on this very hill has long stood a memorial shaft +inscribed: _Here, in the year 362, Jovinus defeated the Teutonic +hordes._ + +A little way up the ascent to Mousson we left the motor behind a bit +of rising ground. The road is raked by the German lines, and stray +pedestrians (unless in a group) are less liable than a motor to have +a shell spent on them. We climbed under a driving grey sky which +swept gusts of rain across our road. In the lee of the castle we +stopped to look down at the valley of the Moselle, the slate roofs +of Pont-a-Mousson and the broken bridge which once linked +together the two sides of the town. Nothing but the wreck of the +bridge showed that we were on the edge of war. The wind was too high +for firing, and we saw no reason for believing that the wood just +behind the Hospice roof at our feet was seamed with German trenches +and bristling with guns, or that from every slope across the valley +the eye of the cannon sleeplessly glared. But there the Germans +were, drawing an iron ring about three sides of the watch-tower; and +as one peered through an embrasure of the ancient walls one +gradually found one's self re-living the sensations of the little +mediaeval burgh as it looked out on some earlier circle of +besiegers. The longer one looked, the more oppressive and menacing +the invisibility of the foe became. "_There_ they are--and +_there_--and _there._" We strained our eyes obediently, but saw only +calm hillsides, dozing farms. It was as if the earth itself were the +enemy, as if the hordes of evil were in the clods and grass-blades. +Only one conical hill close by showed an odd artificial patterning, +like the work of huge ants who had scarred it with criss-cross +ridges. We were told that these were French trenches, but they +looked much more like the harmless traces of a prehistoric camp. + +Suddenly an officer, pointing to the west of the trenched hill said: +"Do you see that farm?" It lay just below, near the river, and so +close that good eyes could easily have discerned people or animals +in the farm-yard, if there had been any; but the whole place seemed +to be sleeping the sleep of bucolic peace. "_They are there_," the +officer said; and the innocent vignette framed by my field-glass +suddenly glared back at me like a human mask of hate. The loudest +cannonade had not made "them" seem as real as that!... + +At this point the military lines and the old political frontier +everywhere overlap, and in a cleft of the wooded hills that conceal +the German batteries we saw a dark grey blur on the grey horizon. It +was Metz, the Promised City, lying there with its fair steeples and +towers, like the mystic banner that Constantine saw upon the sky... + +Through wet vineyards and orchards we scrambled down the hill to the +river and entered Pont-a-Mousson. It was by mere +meteorological good luck that we got there, for if the winds had +been asleep the guns would have been awake, and when they wake poor +Pont-a-Mousson is not at home to visitors. One understood why +as one stood in the riverside garden of the great Premonstratensian +Monastery which is now the hospital and the general asylum of the +town. Between the clipped limes and formal borders the German shells +had scooped out three or four "dreadful hollows," in one of which, +only last week, a little girl found her death; and the facade of the +building is pock-marked by shot and disfigured with gaping holes. +Yet in this precarious shelter Sister Theresia, of the same +indomitable breed as the Sisters of Clermont and Gerbeviller, has +gathered a miscellaneous flock of soldiers wounded in the trenches, +civilians shattered by the bombardment, eclopes, old women and +children: all the human wreckage of this storm-beaten point of the +front. Sister Theresia seems in no wise disconcerted by the fact +that the shells continually play over her roof. The building is +immense and spreading, and when one wing is damaged she picks up her +proteges and trots them off, bed and baggage, to another. "_Je +promene mes malades_," she said calmly, as if boasting of the varied +accommodation of an ultra-modern hospital, as she led us through +vaulted and stuccoed galleries where caryatid-saints look down in +plaster pomp on the rows of brown-blanketed pallets and the long +tables at which haggard eclopes were enjoying their evening soup. + + + + + +May 15th. + + + + +I have seen the happiest being on earth: a man who has found his +job. + +This afternoon we motored southwest of Nancy to a little place +called Menil-sur-Belvitte. The name is not yet intimately known to +history, but there are reasons why it deserves to be, and in one +man's mind it already is. Menil-sur-Belvitte is a village on the +edge of the Vosges. It is badly battered, for awful fighting took +place there in the first month of the war. The houses lie in a +hollow, and just beyond it the ground rises and spreads into a +plateau waving with wheat and backed by wooded slopes--the ideal +"battleground" of the history-books. And here a real above-ground +battle of the old obsolete kind took place, and the French, driving +the Germans back victoriously, fell by thousands in the trampled +wheat. + +The church of Menil is a ruin, but the parsonage still stands--a +plain little house at the end of the street; and here the cure +received us, and led us into a room which he has turned into a +chapel. The chapel is also a war museum, and everything in it has +something to do with the battle that took place among the +wheat-fields. The candelabra on the altar are made of "Seventy-five" +shells, the Virgin's halo is composed of radiating bayonets, the +walls are intricately adorned with German trophies and French +relics, and on the ceiling the cure has had painted a kind of +zodiacal chart of the whole region, in which Menil-sur-Belvitte's +handful of houses figures as the central orb of the system, and +Verdun, Nancy, Metz, and Belfort as its humble satellites. But the +chapel-museum is only a surplus expression of the cure's impassioned +dedication to the dead. His real work has been done on the +battle-field, where row after row of graves, marked and listed as +soon as the struggle was over, have been fenced about, symmetrically +disposed, planted with flowers and young firs, and marked by the +names and death-dates of the fallen. As he led us from one of these +enclosures to another his face was lit with the flame of a gratified +vocation. This particular man was made to do this particular thing: +he is a born collector, classifier, and hero-worshipper. In the hall +of the "presbytere" hangs a case of carefully-mounted butterflies, +the result, no doubt, of an earlier passion for collecting. His +"specimens" have changed, that is all: he has passed from +butterflies to men, from the actual to the visionary Psyche. + +On the way to Menil we stopped at the village of Crevic. The Germans +were there in August, but the place is untouched--except for one +house. That house, a large one, standing in a park at one end of the +village, was the birth-place and home of General Lyautey, one of +France's best soldiers, and Germany's worst enemy in Africa. It is +no exaggeration to say that last August General Lyautey, by his +promptness and audacity, saved Morocco for France. The Germans know +it, and hate him; and as soon as the first soldiers reached +Crevic--so obscure and imperceptible a spot that even German +omniscience might have missed it--the officer in command asked for +General Lyautey's house, went straight to it, had all the papers, +portraits, furniture and family relics piled in a bonfire in the +court, and then burnt down the house. As we sat in the neglected +park with the plaintive ruin before us we heard from the gardener +this typical tale of German thoroughness and German chivalry. It is +corroborated by the fact that not another house in Crevic was +destroyed. + + + + + +May 16th. + + + + +About two miles from the German frontier (_frontier_ just here as +well as front) an isolated hill rises out of the Lorraine meadows. +East of it, a ribbon of river winds among poplars, and that ribbon +is the boundary between Empire and Republic. On such a clear day as +this the view from the hill is extraordinarily interesting. From its +grassy top a little aeroplane cannon stares to heaven, watching the +east for the danger speck; and the circumference of the hill is +furrowed by a deep trench--a "bowel," rather--winding invisibly from +one subterranean observation post to another. In each of these +earthly warrens (ingeniously wattled, roofed and iron-sheeted) stand +two or three artillery officers with keen quiet faces, directing by +telephone the fire of batteries nestling somewhere in the woods four +or five miles away. Interesting as the place was, the men who lived +there interested me far more. They obviously belonged to different +classes, and had received a different social education; but their +mental and moral fraternity was complete. They were all fairly +young, and their faces had the look that war has given to French +faces: a look of sharpened intelligence, strengthened will and +sobered judgment, as if every faculty, trebly vivified, were so bent +on the one end that personal problems had been pushed back to the +vanishing point of the great perspective. + +From this vigilant height--one of the intentest eyes open on the +frontier--we went a short distance down the hillside to a village +out of range of the guns, where the commanding officer gave us tea +in a charming old house with a terraced garden full of flowers and +puppies. Below the terrace, lost Lorraine stretched away to her blue +heights, a vision of summer peace: and just above us the unsleeping +hill kept watch, its signal-wires trembling night and day. It was +one of the intervals of rest and sweetness when the whole horrible +black business seems to press most intolerably on the nerves. + +Below the village the road wound down to a forest that had formed a +dark blur in our bird's-eye view of the plain. We passed into the +forest and halted on the edge of a colony of queer exotic huts. On +all sides they peeped through the branches, themselves so branched +and sodded and leafy that they seemed like some transition form +between tree and house. We were in one of the so-called "villages +negres" of the second-line trenches, the jolly little settlements to +which the troops retire after doing their shift under fire. This +particular colony has been developed to an extreme degree of comfort +and safety. The houses are partly underground, connected by deep +winding "bowels" over which light rustic bridges have been thrown, +and so profoundly roofed with sods that as much of them as shows +above ground is shell-proof. Yet they are real houses, with real +doors and windows under their grass-eaves, real furniture inside, +and real beds of daisies and pansies at their doors. In the +Colonel's bungalow a big bunch of spring flowers bloomed on the +table, and everywhere we saw the same neatness and order, the same +amused pride in the look of things. The men were dining at long +trestle-tables under the trees; tired, unshaven men in shabby +uniforms of all cuts and almost every colour. They were off duty, +relaxed, in a good humour; but every face had the look of the faces +watching on the hill-top. Wherever I go among these men of the front +I have the same impression: the impression that the absorbing +undivided thought of the Defense of France lives in the heart and +brain of each soldier as intensely as in the heart and brain of +their chief. + +We walked a dozen yards down the road and came to the edge of the +forest. A wattled palisade bounded it, and through a gap in the +palisade we looked out across a field to the roofs of a quiet +village a mile away. I went out a few steps into the field and was +abruptly pulled back. "Take care--those are the trenches!" What +looked like a ridge thrown up by a plough was the enemy's line; and +in the quiet village French cannon watched. Suddenly, as we stood +there, they woke, and at the same moment we heard the unmistakable +Gr-r-r of an aeroplane and saw a Bird of Evil high up against the +blue. Snap, snap, snap barked the mitrailleuse on the hill, the +soldiers jumped from their wine and strained their eyes through the +trees, and the Taube, finding itself the centre of so much +attention, turned grey tail and swished away to the concealing +clouds. + + + + + +May 17th. + + + + +Today we started with an intenser sense of adventure. Hitherto we +had always been told beforehand where we were going and how much we +were to be allowed to see; but now we were being launched into the +unknown. Beyond a certain point all was conjecture--we knew only +that what happened after that would depend on the good-will of a +Colonel of Chasseurs-a-pied whom we were to go a long way to +find, up into the folds of the mountains on our southeast horizon. + +We picked up a staff-officer at Head-quarters and flew on to a +battered town on the edge of the hills. From there we wound up +through a narrowing valley, under wooded cliffs, to a little +settlement where the Colonel of the Brigade was to be found. There +was a short conference between the Colonel and our staff-officer, +and then we annexed a Captain of Chasseurs and spun away again. Our +road lay through a town so exposed that our companion from +Head-quarters suggested the advisability of avoiding it; but our +guide hadn't the heart to inflict such a disappointment on his new +acquaintances. "Oh, we won't stop the motor--we'll just dash +through," he said indulgently; and in the excess of his indulgence +he even permitted us to dash slowly. + +Oh, that poor town--when we reached it, along a road ploughed with +fresh obus-holes, I didn't want to stop the motor; I wanted to hurry +on and blot the picture from my memory! It was doubly sad to look at +because of the fact that it wasn't _quite dead;_ faint spasms of +life still quivered through it. A few children played in the ravaged +streets; a few pale mothers watched them from cellar doorways. "They +oughtn't to be here," our guide explained; "but about a hundred and +fifty begged so hard to stay that the General gave them leave. The +officer in command has an eye on them, and whenever he gives the +signal they dive down into their burrows. He says they are perfectly +obedient. It was he who asked that they might stay..." + +Up and up into the hills. The vision of human pain and ruin was lost +in beauty. We were among the firs, and the air was full of balm. The +mossy banks gave out a scent of rain, and little water-falls from +the heights set the branches trembling over secret pools. At each +turn of the road, forest, and always more forest, climbing with us +as we climbed, and dropped away from us to narrow valleys that +converged on slate-blue distances. At one of these turns we overtook +a company of soldiers, spade on shoulder and bags of tools across +their backs--"trench-workers" swinging up to the heights to which we +were bound. Life must be a better thing in this crystal air than in +the mud-welter of the Argonne and the fogs of the North; and these +men's faces were fresh with wind and weather. + +Higher still ... and presently a halt on a ridge, in another +"black village," this time almost a town! The soldiers gathered +round us as the motor stopped--throngs of chasseurs-a-pied in +faded, trench-stained uniforms--for few visitors climb to this +point, and their pleasure at the sight of new faces was presently +expressed in a large "_Vive l'Amerique!_" scrawled on the door of +the car. _L'Amerique_ was glad and proud to be there, and instantly +conscious of breathing an air saturated with courage and the dogged +determination to endure. The men were all reservists: that is to +say, mostly married, and all beyond the first fighting age. For many +months there has not been much active work along this front, no +great adventure to rouse the blood and wing the imagination: it has +just been month after month of monotonous watching and holding on. +And the soldiers' faces showed it: there was no light of heady +enterprise in their eyes, but the look of men who knew their job, +had thought it over, and were there to hold their bit of France till +the day of victory or extermination. + +Meanwhile, they had made the best of the situation and turned their +quarters into a forest colony that would enchant any normal boy. +Their village architecture was more elaborate than any we had yet +seen. In the Colonel's "dugout" a long table decked with lilacs and +tulips was spread for tea. In other cheery catacombs we found neat +rows of bunks, mess-tables, sizzling sauce-pans over kitchen-fires. +Everywhere were endless ingenuities in the way of camp-furniture and +household decoration. Farther down the road a path between +fir-boughs led to a hidden hospital, a marvel of underground +compactness. While we chatted with the surgeon a soldier came in +from the trenches: an elderly, bearded man, with a good average +civilian face--the kind that one runs against by hundreds in any +French crowd. He had a scalp-wound which had just been dressed, and +was very pale. The Colonel stopped to ask a few questions, and then, +turning to him, said: "Feeling rather better now?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Good. In a day or two you'll be thinking about going back to the +trenches, eh?" + +"_I'm going now, sir._" It was said quite simply, and received in +the same way. "Oh, all right," the Colonel merely rejoined; but he +laid his hand on the man's shoulder as we went out. + +Our next visit was to a sod-thatched hut, "At the sign of the +Ambulant Artisans," where two or three soldiers were modelling and +chiselling all kinds of trinkets from the aluminum of enemy shells. +One of the ambulant artisans was just finishing a ring with +beautifully modelled fauns' heads, another offered me a +"Pickelhaube" small enough for Mustard-seed's wear, but complete in +every detail, and inlaid with the bronze eagle from an Imperial +pfennig. There are many such ringsmiths among the privates at the +front, and the severe, somewhat archaic design of their rings is a +proof of the sureness of French taste; but the two we visited +happened to be Paris jewellers, for whom "artisan" was really too +modest a pseudonym. Officers and men were evidently proud of their +work, and as they stood hammering away in their cramped smithy, a +red gleam lighting up the intentness of their faces, they seemed to +be beating out the cheerful rhythm of "I too will something make, +and joy in the making."... + +Up the hillside, in deeper shadow, was another little structure; a +wooden shed with an open gable sheltering an altar with candles and +flowers. Here mass is said by one of the conscript priests of the +regiment, while his congregation kneel between the fir-trunks, +giving life to the old metaphor of the cathedral-forest. Near by was +the grave-yard, where day by day these quiet elderly men lay their +comrades, the _peres de famille_ who don't go back. The care of this +woodland cemetery is left entirely to the soldiers, and they have +spent treasures of piety on the inscriptions and decorations of the +graves. Fresh flowers are brought up from the valleys to cover them, +and when some favourite comrade goes, the men scorning ephemeral +tributes, club together to buy a monstrous indestructible wreath +with emblazoned streamers. It was near the end of the afternoon, and +many soldiers were strolling along the paths between the graves. +"It's their favourite walk at this hour," the Colonel said. He +stopped to look down on a grave smothered in beady tokens, the grave +of the last pal to fall. "He was mentioned in the Order of the Day," +the Colonel explained; and the group of soldiers standing near +looked at us proudly, as if sharing their comrade's honour, and +wanting to be sure that we understood the reason of their pride... + +"And now," said our Captain of Chasseurs, "that you've seen the +second-line trenches, what do you say to taking a look at the +first?" + +We followed him to a point higher up the hill, where we plunged into +a deep ditch of red earth--the "bowel" leading to the first lines. +It climbed still higher, under the wet firs, and then, turning, +dipped over the edge and began to wind in sharp loops down the other +side of the ridge. Down we scrambled, single file, our chins on a +level with the top of the passage, the close green covert above us. +The "bowel" went twisting down more and more sharply into a deep +ravine; and presently, at a bend, we came to a fir-thatched outlook, +where a soldier stood with his back to us, his eye glued to a +peep-hole in the wattled wall. Another turn, and another outlook; +but here it was the iron-rimmed eye of the mitrailleuse that stared +across the ravine. By this time we were within a hundred yards or so +of the German lines, hidden, like ours, on the other side of the +narrowing hollow; and as we stole down and down, the hush and +secrecy of the scene, and the sense of that imminent lurking hatred +only a few branch-lengths away, seemed to fill the silence with +mysterious pulsations. Suddenly a sharp noise broke on them: the rap +of a rifle-shot against a tree-trunk a few yards ahead. + +"Ah, the sharp-shooter," said our guide. "No more talking, +please--he's over there, in a tree somewhere, and whenever he hears +voices he fires. Some day we shall spot his tree." + +We went on in silence to a point where a few soldiers were sitting +on a ledge of rock in a widening of the "bowel." They looked as +quiet as if they had been waiting for their bocks before a Boulevard +cafe. + +"Not beyond, please," said the officer, holding me back; and I +stopped. + +Here we were, then, actually and literally in the first lines! The +knowledge made one's heart tick a little; but, except for another +shot or two from our arboreal listener, and the motionless +intentness of the soldier's back at the peep-hole, there was nothing +to show that we were not a dozen miles away. + +Perhaps the thought occurred to our Captain of Chasseurs; for just +as I was turning back he said with his friendliest twinkle: "Do you +want awfully to go a little farther? Well, then, come on." + +We went past the soldiers sitting on the ledge and stole down and +down, to where the trees ended at the bottom of the ravine. The +sharp-shooter had stopped firing, and nothing disturbed the leafy +silence but an intermittent drip of rain. We were at the end of the +burrow, and the Captain signed to me that I might take a cautious +peep round its corner. I looked out and saw a strip of intensely +green meadow just under me, and a wooded cliff rising abruptly on +its other side. That was all. The wooded cliff swarmed with "them," +and a few steps would have carried us across the interval; yet all +about us was silence, and the peace of the forest. Again, for a +minute, I had the sense of an all-pervading, invisible power of +evil, a saturation of the whole landscape with some hidden vitriol +of hate. Then the reaction of the unbelief set in, and I felt myself +in a harmless ordinary glen, like a million others on an untroubled +earth. We turned and began to climb again, loop by loop, up the +"bowel"--we passed the lolling soldiers, the silent mitrailleuse, we +came again to the watcher at his peep-hole. He heard us, let the +officer pass, and turned his head with a little sign of +understanding. + +"Do you want to look down?" + +He moved a step away from his window. The look-out projected over +the ravine, raking its depths; and here, with one's eye to the +leaf-lashed hole, one saw at last ... saw, at the bottom of the +harmless glen, half way between cliff and cliff, a grey uniform +huddled in a dead heap. "He's been there for days: they can't fetch +him away," said the watcher, regluing his eye to the hole; and it +was almost a relief to find it was after all a tangible enemy hidden +over there across the meadow... + +The sun had set when we got back to our starting-point in the +underground village. The chasseurs-a-pied were lounging along +the roadside and standing in gossiping groups about the motor. It +was long since they had seen faces from the other life, the life +they had left nearly a year earlier and had not been allowed to go +back to for a day; and under all their jokes and good-humour their +farewell had a tinge of wistfulness. But one felt that this fugitive +reminder of a world they had put behind them would pass like a +dream, and their minds revert without effort to the one reality: the +business of holding their bit of France. + +It is hard to say why this sense of the French soldier's +single-mindedness is so strong in all who have had even a glimpse of +the front; perhaps it is gathered less from what the men say than +from the look in their eyes. Even while they are accepting +cigarettes and exchanging trench-jokes, the look is there; and when +one comes on them unaware it is there also. In the dusk of the +forest that look followed us down the mountain; and as we skirted +the edge of the ravine between the armies, we felt that on the far +side of that dividing line were the men who had made the war, and on +the near side the men who had been made by it. + + + + + + +IN THE NORTH + +June 19th, 1915. + + + + + +On the way from Doullens to Montreuil-sur-Mer, on a shining summer +afternoon. A road between dusty hedges, choked, literally strangled, +by a torrent of westward-streaming troops of all arms. Every few +minutes there would come a break in the flow, and our motor would +wriggle through, advance a few yards, and be stopped again by a +widening of the torrent that jammed us into the ditch and splashed a +dazzle of dust into our eyes. The dust was stifling--but through it, +what a sight! + +Standing up in the car and looking back, we watched the river of war +wind toward us. Cavalry, artillery, lancers, infantry, sappers and +miners, trench-diggers, road-makers, stretcher-bearers, they swept +on as smoothly as if in holiday order. Through the dust, the sun +picked out the flash of lances and the gloss of chargers' flanks, +flushed rows and rows of determined faces, found the least touch of +gold on faded uniforms, silvered the sad grey of mitrailleuses and +munition waggons. Close as the men were, they seemed allegorically +splendid: as if, under the arch of the sunset, we had been watching +the whole French army ride straight into glory... + +Finally we left the last detachment behind, and had the country to +ourselves. The disfigurement of war has not touched the fields of +Artois. The thatched farmhouses dozed in gardens full of roses and +hollyhocks, and the hedges above the duck-ponds were weighed down +with layers of elder-blossom. On all sides wheat-fields skirted with +woodland went billowing away under the breezy light that seemed to +carry a breath of the Atlantic on its beams. The road ran up and +down as if our motor were a ship on a deep-sea swell; and such a +sense of space and light was in the distances, such a veil of beauty +over the whole world, that the vision of that army on the move grew +more and more fabulous and epic. + +The sun had set and the sea-twilight was rolling in when we dipped +down from the town of Montreuil to the valley below, where the +towers of an ancient abbey-church rise above terraced orchards. The +gates at the end of the avenue were thrown open, and the motor drove +into a monastery court full of box and roses. Everything was sweet +and secluded in this mediaeval place; and from the shadow of +cloisters and arched passages groups of nuns fluttered out, nuns all +black or all white, gliding, peering and standing at gaze. It was as +if we had plunged back into a century to which motors were unknown +and our car had been some monster cast up from a Barbary shipwreck; +and the startled attitudes of these holy women did credit to their +sense of the picturesque; for the Abbey of Neuville is now a great +Belgian hospital, and such monsters must frequently intrude on its +seclusion... + +Sunset, and summer dusk, and the moon. Under the monastery windows a +walled garden with stone pavilions at the angles and the drip of a +fountain. Below it, tiers of orchard-terraces fading into a great +moon-confused plain that might be either fields or sea... + + + + + +June 20th. + + + + +Today our way ran northeast, through a landscape so English that +there was no incongruity in the sprinkling of khaki along the road. +Even the villages look English: the same plum-red brick of tidy +self-respecting houses, neat, demure and freshly painted, the +gardens all bursting with flowers, the landscape hedgerowed and +willowed and fed with water-courses, the people's faces square and +pink and honest, and the signs over the shops in a language half way +between English and German. Only the architecture of the towns is +French, of a reserved and robust northern type, but unmistakably in +the same great tradition. + +War still seemed so far off that one had time for these digressions +as the motor flew on over the undulating miles. But presently we +came on an aviation camp spreading its sheds over a wide plateau. +Here the khaki throng was thicker and the familiar military stir +enlivened the landscape. A few miles farther, and we found ourselves +in what was seemingly a big English town oddly grouped about a +nucleus of French churches. This was St. Omer, grey, spacious, +coldly clean in its Sunday emptiness. At the street crossings +English sentries stood mechanically directing the absent traffic +with gestures familiar to Piccadilly; and the signs of the British +Red Cross and St. John's Ambulance hung on club-like facades that +might almost have claimed a home in Pall Mall. + +The Englishness of things was emphasized, as we passed out through +the suburbs, by the look of the crowd on the canal bridges and along +the roads. Every nation has its own way of loitering, and there is +nothing so unlike the French way as the English. Even if all these +tall youths had not been in khaki, and the girls with them so pink +and countrified, one would instantly have recognized the passive +northern way of letting a holiday soak in instead of squeezing out +its juices with feverish fingers. + +When we turned westward from St. Omer, across the same pastures and +watercourses, we were faced by two hills standing up abruptly out of +the plain; and on the top of one rose the walls and towers of a +compact little mediaeval town. As we took the windings that led up +to it a sense of Italy began to penetrate the persistent impression +of being somewhere near the English Channel. The town we were +approaching might have been a queer dream-blend of Winchelsea and +San Gimignano; but when we entered the gates of Cassel we were in a +place so intensely itself that all analogies dropped out of mind. + +It was not surprising to learn from the guide-book that Cassel has +the most extensive view of any town in Europe: one felt at once that +it differed in all sorts of marked and self-assertive ways from +every other town, and would be almost sure to have the best things +going in every line. And the line of an illimitable horizon is +exactly the best to set off its own quaint compactness. + +We found our hotel in the most perfect of little market squares, +with a Renaissance town-hall on one side, and on the other a +miniature Spanish palace with a front of rosy brick adorned by grey +carvings. The square was crowded with English army motors and +beautiful prancing chargers; and the restaurant of the inn (which +has the luck to face the pink and grey palace) swarmed with khaki +tea-drinkers turning indifferent shoulders to the widest view in +Europe. It is one of the most detestable things about war that +everything connected with it, except the death and ruin that result, +is such a heightening of life, so visually stimulating and +absorbing. "It was gay and terrible," is the phrase forever +recurring in "War and Peace"; and the gaiety of war was everywhere +in Cassel, transforming the lifeless little town into a romantic +stage-setting full of the flash of arms and the virile animation of +young faces. + +From the park on top of the hill we looked down on another picture. +All about us was the plain, its distant rim merged in northern +sea-mist; and through the mist, in the glitter of the afternoon sun, +far-off towns and shadowy towers lay steeped, as it seemed, in +summer quiet. For a moment, while we looked, the vision of war +shrivelled up like a painted veil; then we caught the names +pronounced by a group of English soldiers leaning over the parapet +at our side. "That's Dunkerque"--one of them pointed it out with his +pipe--"and there's Poperinghe, just under us; that's Furnes beyond, +and Ypres and Dixmude, and Nieuport... "And at the mention of +those names the scene grew dark again, and we felt the passing of +the Angel to whom was given the Key of the Bottomless Pit. + +That night we went up once more to the rock of Cassel. The moon was +full, and as civilians are not allowed out alone after dark a +staff-officer went with us to show us the view from the roof of the +disused Casino on top of the rock. It was the queerest of sensations +to push open a glazed door and find ourselves in a spectral painted +room with soldiers dozing in the moonlight on polished floors, their +kits stacked on the gaming tables. We passed through a big vestibule +among more soldiers lounging in the half-light, and up a long +staircase to the roof where a watcher challenged us and then let us +go to the edge of the parapet. Directly below lay the unlit mass of +the town. To the northwest a single sharp hill, the "Mont des Cats," +stood out against the sky; the rest of the horizon was unbroken, and +floating in misty moonlight. The outline of the ruined towns had +vanished and peace seemed to have won back the world. But as we +stood there a red flash started out of the mist far off to the +northwest; then another and another flickered up at different points +of the long curve. "Luminous bombs thrown up along the lines," our +guide explained; and just then, at still another point a white light +opened like a tropical flower, spread to full bloom and drew itself +back into the night. "A flare," we were told; and another white +flower bloomed out farther down. Below us, the roofs of Cassel slept +their provincial sleep, the moonlight picking out every leaf in the +gardens; while beyond, those infernal flowers continued to open and +shut along the curve of death. + + + + + +June 21st. + + + + +On the road from Cassel to Poperinghe. Heat, dust, crowds, +confusion, all the sordid shabby rear-view of war. The road running +across the plain between white-powdered hedges was ploughed up by +numberless motor-vans, supply-waggons and Red Cross ambulances. +Labouring through between them came detachments of British +artillery, clattering gun-carriages, straight young figures on +glossy horses, long Phidian lines of youths so ingenuously fair that +one wondered how they could have looked on the Medusa face of war +and lived. Men and beasts, in spite of the dust, were as fresh and +sleek as if they had come from a bath; and everywhere along the +wayside were improvised camps, with tents made of waggon-covers, +where the ceaseless indomitable work of cleaning was being carried +out in all its searching details. Shirts were drying on +elder-bushes, kettles boiling over gypsy fires, men shaving, +blacking their boots, cleaning their guns, rubbing down their +horses, greasing their saddles, polishing their stirrups and bits: +on all sides a general cheery struggle against the prevailing dust, +discomfort and disorder. Here and there a young soldier leaned +against a garden paling to talk to a girl among the hollyhocks, or +an older soldier initiated a group of children into some mystery of +military housekeeping; and everywhere were the same signs of +friendly inarticulate understanding with the owners of the fields +and gardens. + +From the thronged high-road we passed into the emptiness of deserted +Poperinghe, and out again on the way to Ypres. Beyond the flats and +wind-mills to our left were the invisible German lines, and the +staff-officer who was with us leaned forward to caution our +chauffeur: "No tooting between here and Ypres." There was still a +good deal of movement on the road, though it was less crowded with +troops than near Poperinghe; but as we passed through the last +village and approached the low line of houses ahead, the silence and +emptiness widened about us. That low line was Ypres; every monument +that marked it, that gave it an individual outline, is gone. It is a +town without a profile. + +The motor slipped through a suburb of small brick houses and stopped +under cover of some slightly taller buildings. Another military +motor waited there, the chauffeur relic-hunting in the gutted +houses. + +We got out and walked toward the centre of the Cloth Market. We had +seen evacuated towns--Verdun, Badonviller, Raon-l'Etape--but we had +seen no emptiness like this. Not a human being was in the streets. +Endless lines of houses looked down on us from vacant windows. Our +footsteps echoed like the tramp of a crowd, our lowered voices +seemed to shout. In one street we came on three English soldiers who +were carrying a piano out of a house and lifting it onto a +hand-cart. They stopped to stare at us, and we stared back. It +seemed an age since we had seen a living being! One of the soldiers +scrambled into the cart and tapped out a tune on the cracked +key-board, and we all laughed with relief at the foolish noise... +Then we walked on and were alone again. + +We had seen other ruined towns, but none like this. The towns of +Lorraine were blown up, burnt down, deliberately erased from the +earth. At worst they are like stone-yards, at best like Pompeii. But +Ypres has been bombarded to death, and the outer walls of its houses +are still standing, so that it presents the distant semblance of a +living city, while near by it is seen to be a disembowelled corpse. +Every window-pane is smashed, nearly every building unroofed, and +some house-fronts are sliced clean off, with the different stories +exposed, as if for the stage-setting of a farce. In these exposed +interiors the poor little household gods shiver and blink like owls +surprised in a hollow tree. A hundred signs of intimate and humble +tastes, of humdrum pursuits, of family association, cling to the +unmasked walls. Whiskered photographs fade on morning-glory +wallpapers, plaster saints pine under glass bells, antimacassars +droop from plush sofas, yellowing diplomas display their seals on +office walls. It was all so still and familiar that it seemed as if +the people for whom these things had a meaning might at any moment +come back and take up their daily business. And then--crash! the +guns began, slamming out volley after volley all along the English +lines, and the poor frail web of things that had made up the lives +of a vanished city-full hung dangling before us in that deathly +blast. + +We had just reached the square before the Cathedral when the +cannonade began, and its roar seemed to build a roof of iron over +the glorious ruins of Ypres. The singular distinction of the city is +that it is destroyed but not abased. The walls of the Cathedral, the +long bulk of the Cloth Market, still lift themselves above the +market place with a majesty that seems to silence compassion. The +sight of those facades, so proud in death, recalled a phrase used +soon after the fall of Liege by Belgium's Foreign Minister--"_La +Belgique ne regrette rien_ "--which ought some day to serve as the +motto of the renovated city. + +We were turning to go when we heard a whirr overhead, followed by a +volley of mitrailleuse. High up in the blue, over the centre of the +dead city, flew a German aeroplane; and all about it hundreds of +white shrapnel tufts burst out in the summer sky like the miraculous +snow-fall of Italian legend. Up and up they flew, on the trail of +the Taube, and on flew the Taube, faster still, till quarry and pack +were lost in mist, and the barking of the mitrailleuse died out. So +we left Ypres to the death-silence in which we had found her. + +The afternoon carried us back to Poperinghe, where I was bound on a +quest for lace-cushions of the special kind required by our Flemish +refugees. The model is unobtainable in France, and I had been +told--with few and vague indications--that I might find the cushions +in a certain convent of the city. But in which? + +Poperinghe, though little injured, is almost empty. In its tidy +desolation it looks like a town on which a wicked enchanter has laid +a spell. We roamed from quarter to quarter, hunting for some one to +show us the way to the convent I was looking for, till at last a +passer-by led us to a door which seemed the right one. At our knock +the bars were drawn and a cloistered face looked out. No, there were +no cushions there; and the nun had never heard of the order we +named. But there were the Penitents, the Benedictines--we might try. +Our guide offered to show us the way and we went on. From one or two +windows, wondering heads looked out and vanished; but the streets +were lifeless. At last we came to a convent where there were no nuns +left, but where, the caretaker told us, there were cushions--a great +many. He led us through pale blue passages, up cold stairs, through +rooms that smelt of linen and lavender. We passed a chapel with +plaster saints in white niches above paper flowers. Everything was +cold and bare and blank: like a mind from which memory has gone. We +came to a class room with lines of empty benches facing a +blue-mantled Virgin; and here, on the floor, lay rows and rows of +lace-cushions. On each a bit of lace had been begun--and there they +had been dropped when nuns and pupils fled. They had not been left +in disorder: the rows had been laid out evenly, a handkerchief +thrown over each cushion. And that orderly arrest of life seemed +sadder than any scene of disarray. It symbolized the senseless +paralysis of a whole nation's activities. Here were a houseful of +women and children, yesterday engaged in a useful task and now +aimlessly astray over the earth. And in hundreds of such houses, in +dozens, in hundreds of open towns, the hand of time had been +stopped, the heart of life had ceased to beat, all the currents of +hope and happiness and industry been choked--not that some great +military end might be gained, or the length of the war curtailed, +but that, wherever the shadow of Germany falls, all things should +wither at the root. + +The same sight met us everywhere that afternoon. Over Furnes and +Bergues, and all the little intermediate villages, the evil shadow +lay. Germany had willed that these places should die, and wherever +her bombs could not reach her malediction had carried. Only Biblical +lamentation can convey a vision of this life-drained land. "Your +country is desolate; your cities are burned with fire; your land, +strangers devour it in your presence, and it is desolate, as +overthrown by strangers." + +Late in the afternoon we came to Dunkerque, lying peacefully between +its harbour and canals. The bombardment of the previous month had +emptied it, and though no signs of damage were visible the same +spellbound air lay over everything. As we sat alone at tea in the +hall of the hotel on the Place Jean Bart, and looked out on the +silent square and its lifeless shops and cafes, some one suggested +that the hotel would be a convenient centre for the excursions we +had planned, and we decided to return there the next evening. Then +we motored back to Cassel. + + + + + +June 22nd. + + + + +My first waking thought was: "How time flies! It must be the +Fourteenth of July!" I knew it could not be the Fourth of that +specially commemorative month, because I was just awake enough to be +sure I was not in America; and the only other event to justify such +a terrific clatter was the French national anniversary. I sat up and +listened to the popping of guns till a completed sense of reality +stole over me, and I realized that I was in the inn of the Wild Man +at Cassel, and that it was not the fourteenth of July but the +twenty-second of June. + +Then, what--? A Taube, of course! And all the guns in the place were +cracking at it! By the time this mental process was complete, I had +scrambled up and hurried downstairs and, unbolting the heavy doors, +had rushed out into the square. It was about four in the morning, +the heavenliest moment of a summer dawn, and in spite of the tumult +Cassel still apparently slept. Only a few soldiers stood in the +square, looking up at a drift of white cloud behind which--they +averred--a Taube had just slipped out of sight. Cassel was evidently +used to Taubes, and I had the sense of having overdone my excitement +and not being exactly in tune; so after gazing a moment at the white +cloud I slunk back into the hotel, barred the door and mounted to my +room. At a window on the stairs I paused to look out over the +sloping roofs of the town, the gardens, the plain; and suddenly +there was another crash and a drift of white smoke blew up from the +fruit-trees just under the window. It was a last shot at the +fugitive, from a gun hidden in one of those quiet provincial gardens +between the houses; and its secret presence there was more startling +than all the clatter of mitrailleuses from the rock. + +Silence and sleep came down again on Cassel; but an hour or two +later the hush was broken by a roar like the last trump. This time +it was no question of mitrailleuses. The Wild Man rocked on its +base, and every pane in my windows beat a tattoo. What was that +incredible unimagined sound? Why, it could be nothing, of course, +but the voice of the big siege-gun of Dixmude! Five times, while I +was dressing, the thunder shook my windows, and the air was filled +with a noise that may be compared--if the human imagination can +stand the strain--to the simultaneous closing of all the iron +shop-shutters in the world. The odd part was that, as far as the +Wild Man and its inhabitants were concerned, no visible effects +resulted, and dressing, packing and coffee-drinking went on +comfortably in the strange parentheses between the roars. + +We set off early for a neighbouring Head-quarters, and it was not +till we turned out of the gates of Cassel that we came on signs of +the bombardment: the smashing of a gas-house and the converting of a +cabbage-field into a crater which, for some time to come, will spare +photographers the trouble of climbing Vesuvius. There was a certain +consolation in the discrepancy between the noise and the damage +done. + +At Head-quarters we learned more of the morning's incidents. +Dunkerque, it appeared, had first been visited by the Taube which +afterward came to take the range of Cassel; and the big gun of +Dixmude had then turned all its fury on the French sea-port. The +bombardment of Dunkuerque was still going on; and we were asked, and +in fact bidden, to give up our plan of going there for the night. + +After luncheon we turned north, toward the dunes. The villages we +drove through were all evacuated, some quite lifeless, others +occupied by troops. Presently we came to a group of military motors +drawn up by the roadside, and a field black with wheeling troops. +"Admiral Ronarc'h!" our companion from Head-quarters exclaimed; and +we understood that we had had the good luck to come on the hero of +Dixmude in the act of reviewing the marine fusiliers and +territorials whose magnificent defense of last October gave that +much-besieged town another lease of glory. + +We stopped the motor and climbed to a ridge above the field. A high +wind was blowing, bringing with it the booming of the guns along the +front. A sun half-veiled in sand-dust shone on pale meadows, sandy +flats, grey wind-mills. The scene was deserted, except for the +handful of troops deploying before the officers on the edge of the +field. Admiral Ronarc'h, white-gloved and in full-dress uniform, +stood a little in advance, a young naval officer at his side. He had +just been distributing decorations to his fusiliers and +territorials, and they were marching past him, flags flying and +bugles playing. Every one of those men had a record of heroism, and +every face in those ranks had looked on horrors unnameable. They had +lost Dixmude--for a while--but they had gained great glory, and the +inspiration of their epic resistance had come from the quiet officer +who stood there, straight and grave, in his white gloves and gala +uniform. + +One must have been in the North to know something of the tie that +exists, in this region of bitter and continuous fighting, between +officers and soldiers. The feeling of the chiefs is almost one of +veneration for their men; that of the soldiers, a kind of +half-humorous tenderness for the officers who have faced such odds +with them. This mutual regard reveals itself in a hundred +undefinable ways; but its fullest expression is in the tone with +which the commanding officers speak the two words oftenest on their +lips: "My men." + +The little review over, we went on to Admiral Ronarc'h's quarters in +the dunes, and thence, after a brief visit, to another brigade +Head-quarters. We were in a region of sandy hillocks feathered by +tamarisk, and interspersed with poplar groves slanting like wheat in +the wind. Between these meagre thickets the roofs of seaside +bungalows showed above the dunes; and before one of these we +stopped, and were led into a sitting-room full of maps and aeroplane +photographs. One of the officers of the brigade telephoned to ask if +the way was clear to Nieuport; and the answer was that we might go +on. + +Our road ran through the "Bois Triangulaire," a bit of woodland +exposed to constant shelling. Half the poor spindling trees were +down, and patches of blackened undergrowth and ragged hollows marked +the path of the shells. If the trees of a cannonaded wood are of +strong inland growth their fallen trunks have the majesty of a +ruined temple; but there was something humanly pitiful in the frail +trunks of the Bois Triangulaire, lying there like slaughtered rows +of immature troops. + +A few miles more brought us to Nieuport, most lamentable of the +victim towns. It is not empty as Ypres is empty: troops are +quartered in the cellars, and at the approach of our motor knots of +cheerful zouaves came swarming out of the ground like ants. But +Ypres is majestic in death, poor Nieuport gruesomely comic. About +its splendid nucleus of mediaeval architecture a modern town had +grown up; and nothing stranger can be pictured than the contrast +between the streets of flimsy houses, twisted like curl-papers, and +the ruins of the Gothic Cathedral and the Cloth Market. It is like +passing from a smashed toy to the survival of a prehistoric +cataclysm. + +Modern Nieuport seems to have died in a colic. No less homely image +expresses the contractions and contortions of the houses reaching +out the appeal of their desperate chimney-pots and agonized girders. +There is one view along the exterior of the town like nothing else +on the warfront. On the left, a line of palsied houses leads up like +a string of crutch-propped beggars to the mighty ruin of the +Templars' Tower; on the right the flats reach away to the almost +imperceptible humps of masonry that were once the villages of St. +Georges, Ramscappelle, Pervyse. And over it all the incessant crash +of the guns stretches a sounding-board of steel. + +In front of the cathedral a German shell has dug a crater thirty +feet across, overhung by splintered tree-trunks, burnt shrubs, vague +mounds of rubbish; and a few steps beyond lies the peacefullest spot +in Nieuport, the grave-yard where the zouaves have buried their +comrades. The dead are laid in rows under the flank of the +cathedral, and on their carefully set grave-stones have been placed +collections of pious images gathered from the ruined houses. Some of +the most privileged are guarded by colonies of plaster saints and +Virgins that cover the whole slab; and over the handsomest Virgins +and the most gaily coloured saints the soldiers have placed the +glass bells that once protected the parlour clocks and +wedding-wreaths in the same houses. + +From sad Nieuport we motored on to a little seaside colony where +gaiety prevails. Here the big hotels and the adjoining villas along +the beach are filled with troops just back from the trenches: it is +one of the "rest cures" of the front. When we drove up, the regiment +"au repos" was assembled in the wide sandy space between the +principal hotels, and in the centre of the jolly crowd the band was +playing. The Colonel and his officers stood listening to the music, +and presently the soldiers broke into the wild "chanson des zouaves" +of the --th zouaves. It was the strangest of sights to watch that +throng of dusky merry faces under their red fezes against the +background of sunless northern sea. When the music was over some one +with a kodak suggested "a group": we struck a collective attitude on +one of the hotel terraces, and just as the camera was being aimed at +us the Colonel turned and drew into the foreground a little grinning +pock-marked soldier. "He's just been decorated--he's got to be in +the group." A general exclamation of assent from the other officers, +and a protest from the hero: "Me? Why, my ugly mug will smash the +plate!" But it didn't-- + +Reluctantly we turned from this interval in the day's sad round, and +took the road to La Panne. Dust, dunes, deserted villages: my memory +keeps no more definite vision of the run. But at sunset we came on a +big seaside colony stretched out above the longest beach I ever saw: +along the sea-front, an esplanade bordered by the usual foolish +villas, and behind it a single street filled with hotels and shops. +All the life of the desert region we had traversed seemed to have +taken refuge at La Panne. The long street was swarming with throngs +of dark-uniformed Belgian soldiers, every shop seemed to be doing a +thriving trade, and the hotels looked as full as beehives. + + + + + +June 23rd LA PANNE. + + + + +The particular hive that has taken us in is at the extreme end of +the esplanade, where asphalt and iron railings lapse abruptly into +sand and sea-grass. When I looked out of my window this morning I +saw only the endless stretch of brown sand against the grey roll of +the Northern Ocean and, on a crest of the dunes, the figure of a +solitary sentinel. But presently there was a sound of martial music, +and long lines of troops came marching along the esplanade and down +to the beach. The sands stretched away to east and west, a great +"field of Mars" on which an army could have manoeuvred; and the +morning exercises of cavalry and infantry began. Against the brown +beach the regiments in their dark uniforms looked as black as +silhouettes; and the cavalry galloping by in single file suggested a +black frieze of warriors encircling the dun-coloured flanks of an +Etruscan vase. For hours these long-drawn-out movements of troops +went on, to the wail of bugles, and under the eye of the lonely +sentinel on the sand-crest; then the soldiers poured back into the +town, and La Panne was once more a busy common-place _bain-de-mer_. +The common-placeness, however, was only on the surface; for as one +walked along the esplanade one discovered that the town had become a +citadel, and that all the doll's-house villas with their silly +gables and sillier names--"Seaweed," "The Sea-gull," "Mon Repos," +and the rest--were really a continuous line of barracks swarming +with Belgian troops. In the main street there were hundreds of +soldiers, pottering along in couples, chatting in groups, romping +and wrestling like a crowd of school-boys, or bargaining in the +shops for shell-work souvenirs and sets of post-cards; and between +the dark-green and crimson uniforms was a frequent sprinkling of +khaki, with the occasional pale blue of a French officer's tunic. + +Before luncheon we motored over to Dunkerque. The road runs along +the canal, between grass-flats and prosperous villages. No signs of +war were noticeable except on the road, which was crowded with motor +vans, ambulances and troops. The walls and gates of Dunkerque rose +before us as calm and undisturbed as when we entered the town the +day before yesterday. But within the gates we were in a desert. The +bombardment had ceased the previous evening, but a death-hush lay on +the town, Every house was shuttered and the streets were empty. We +drove to the Place Jean Bart, where two days ago we sat at tea in +the hall of the hotel. Now there was not a whole pane of glass in +the windows of the square, the doors of the hotel were closed, and +every now and then some one came out carrying a basketful of plaster +from fallen ceilings. The whole surface of the square was literally +paved with bits of glass from the hundreds of broken windows, and at +the foot of David's statue of Jean Bart, just where our motor had +stood while we had tea, the siege-gun of Dixmude had scooped out a +hollow as big as the crater at Nieuport. + +Though not a house on the square was touched, the scene was one of +unmitigated desolation. It was the first time we had seen the raw +wounds of a bombardment, and the freshness of the havoc seemed to +accentuate its cruelty. We wandered down the street behind the hotel +to the graceful Gothic church of St. Eloi, of which one aisle had +been shattered; then, turning another corner, we came on a poor +_bourgeois_ house that had had its whole front torn away. The +squalid revelation of caved-in floors, smashed wardrobes, dangling +bedsteads, heaped-up blankets, topsy-turvy chairs and stoves and +wash-stands was far more painful than the sight of the wounded +church. St. Eloi was draped in the dignity of martyrdom, but the +poor little house reminded one of some shy humdrum person suddenly +exposed in the glare of a great misfortune. + +A few people stood in clusters looking up at the ruins, or strayed +aimlessly about the streets. Not a loud word was heard. The air +seemed heavy with the suspended breath of a great city's activities: +the mournful hush of Dunkerque was even more oppressive than the +death-silence of Ypres. But when we came back to the Place Jean Bart +the unbreakable human spirit had begun to reassert itself. A handful +of children were playing in the bottom of the crater, collecting +"specimens" of glass and splintered brick; and about its rim the +market-people, quietly and as a matter of course, were setting up +their wooden stalls. In a few minutes the signs of German havoc +would be hidden behind stacks of crockery and household utensils, +and some of the pale women we had left in mournful contemplation of +the ruins would be bargaining as sharply as ever for a sauce-pan or +a butter-tub. Not once but a hundred times has the attitude of the +average French civilian near the front reminded me of the gallant +cry of Calanthea in _The Broken Heart:_ "Let me die smiling!" I +should have liked to stop and spend all I had in the market of +Dunkerque... + +All the afternoon we wandered about La Panne. The exercises of the +troops had begun again, and the deploying of those endless black +lines along the beach was a sight of the strangest beauty. The sun +was veiled, and heavy surges rolled in under a northerly gale. +Toward evening the sea turned to cold tints of jade and pearl and +tarnished silver. Far down the beach a mysterious fleet of fishing +boats was drawn up on the sand, with black sails bellying in the +wind; and the black riders galloping by might have landed from them, +and been riding into the sunset out of some wild northern legend. +Presently a knot of buglers took up their stand on the edge of the +sea, facing inward, their feet in the surf, and began to play; and +their call was like the call of Roland's horn, when he blew it down +the pass against the heathen. On the sandcrest below my window the +lonely sentinel still watched... + + + + + +June 24th. + + + + +It is like coming down from the mountains to leave the front. I +never had the feeling more strongly than when we passed out of +Belgium this afternoon. I had it most strongly as we drove by a +cluster of villas standing apart in a sterile region of sea-grass +and sand. In one of those villas for nearly a year, two hearts at +the highest pitch of human constancy have held up a light to the +world. It is impossible to pass that house without a sense of awe. +Because of the light that comes from it, dead faiths have come to +life, weak convictions have grown strong, fiery impulses have turned +to long endurance, and long endurance has kept the fire of impulse. +In the harbour of New York there is a pompous statue of a goddess +with a torch, designated as "Liberty enlightening the World." It +seems as though the title on her pedestal might well, for the time, +be transferred to the lintel of that villa in the dunes. + +On leaving St. Omer we took a short cut southward across rolling +country. It was a happy accident that caused us to leave the main +road, for presently, over the crest of a hill, we saw surging toward +us a mighty movement of British and Indian troops. A great bath of +silver sunlight lay on the wheat-fields, the clumps of woodland and +the hilly blue horizon, and in that slanting radiance the cavalry +rode toward us, regiment after regiment of slim turbaned Indians, +with delicate proud faces like the faces of Princes in Persian +miniatures. Then came a long train of artillery; splendid horses, +clattering gun-carriages, clear-faced English youths galloping by +all aglow in the sunset. The stream of them seemed never-ending. Now +and then it was checked by a train of ambulances and supply-waggons, +or caught and congested in the crooked streets of a village where +children and girls had come out with bunches of flowers, and bakers +were selling hot loaves to the sutlers; and when we had extricated +our motor from the crowd, and climbed another hill, we came on +another cavalcade surging toward us through the wheat-fields. For +over an hour the procession poured by, so like and yet so unlike the +French division we had met on the move as we went north a few days +ago; so that we seemed to have passed to the northern front, and +away from it again, through a great flashing gateway in the long +wall of armies guarding the civilized world from the North Sea to +the Vosges. + + + + + + +IN ALSACE + +August 13th, 1915. + + + + + +My trip to the east began by a dash toward the north. Near Rheims is +a little town--hardly more than a village, but in English we have no +intermediate terms such as "bourg" and "petit bourg"--where one of +the new Red Cross sanitary motor units was to be seen "in action." +The inspection over, we climbed to a vineyard above the town and +looked down at a river valley traversed by a double line of trees. +The first line marked the canal, which is held by the French, who +have gun-boats on it. Behind this ran the high-road, with the +first-line French trenches, and just above, on the opposite slope, +were the German lines. The soil being chalky, the German positions +were clearly marked by two parallel white scorings across the brown +hill-front; and while we watched we heard desultory firing, and saw, +here and there along the ridge, the smoke-puff of an exploding +shell. It was incredibly strange to stand there, among the vines +humming with summer insects, and to look out over a peaceful country +heavy with the coming vintage, knowing that the trees at our feet +hid a line of gun-boats that were crashing death into those two +white scorings on the hill. + +Rheims itself brings one nearer to the war by its look of deathlike +desolation. The paralysis of the bombarded towns is one of the most +tragic results of the invasion. One's soul revolts at this senseless +disorganizing of innumerable useful activities. Compared with the +towns of the north, Rheims is relatively unharmed; but for that very +reason the arrest of life seems the more futile and cruel. The +Cathedral square was deserted, all the houses around it were closed. +And there, before us, rose the Cathedral--_a_ cathedral, rather, for +it was not the one we had always known. It was, in fact, not like +any cathedral on earth. When the German bombardment began, the west +front of Rheims was covered with scaffolding: the shells set it on +fire, and the whole church was wrapped in flames. Now the +scaffolding is gone, and in the dull provincial square there stands +a structure so strange and beautiful that one must search the +Inferno, or some tale of Eastern magic, for words to picture the +luminous unearthly vision. The lower part of the front has been +warmed to deep tints of umber and burnt siena. This rich burnishing +passes, higher up, through yellowish-pink and carmine, to a sulphur +whitening to ivory; and the recesses of the portals and the hollows +behind the statues are lined with a black denser and more velvety +than any effect of shadow to be obtained by sculptured relief. The +interweaving of colour over the whole blunted bruised surface +recalls the metallic tints, the peacock-and-pigeon iridescences, the +incredible mingling of red, blue, umber and yellow of the rocks +along the Gulf of AEgina. And the wonder of the impression is +increased by the sense of its evanescence; the knowledge that this +is the beauty of disease and death, that every one of the +transfigured statues must crumble under the autumn rains, that every +one of the pink or golden stones is already eaten away to the core, +that the Cathedral of Rheims is glowing and dying before us like a +sunset... + + + + + +August 14th. + + + + +A stone and brick chateau in a flat park with a stream running +through it. Pampas-grass, geraniums, rustic bridges, winding paths: +how _bourgeois_ and sleepy it would all seem but for the sentinel +challenging our motor at the gate! + +Before the door a collie dozing in the sun, and a group of +staff-officers waiting for luncheon. Indoors, a room with handsome +tapestries, some good furniture and a table spread with the usual +military maps and aeroplane-photographs. At luncheon, the General, +the chiefs of the staff--a dozen in all--an officer from the General +Head-quarters. The usual atmosphere of _camaraderie_, confidence, +good-humour, and a kind of cheerful seriousness that I have come to +regard as characteristic of the men immersed in the actual facts of +the war. I set down this impression as typical of many such luncheon +hours along the front... + + + + + +August 15th. + + + + +This morning we set out for reconquered Alsace. For reasons +unexplained to the civilian this corner of old-new France has +hitherto been inaccessible, even to highly placed French officials; +and there was a special sense of excitement in taking the road that +led to it. + +We slipped through a valley or two, passed some placid villages with +vine-covered gables, and noticed that most of the signs over the +shops were German. We had crossed the old frontier unawares, and +were presently in the charming town of Massevaux. It was the Feast +of the Assumption, and mass was just over when we reached the square +before the church. The streets were full of holiday people, +well-dressed, smiling, seemingly unconscious of the war. Down the +church-steps, guided by fond mammas, came little girls in white +dresses, with white wreaths in their hair, and carrying, in baskets +slung over their shoulders, woolly lambs or blue and white Virgins. +Groups of cavalry officers stood chatting with civilians in their +Sunday best, and through the windows of the Golden Eagle we saw +active preparations for a crowded mid-day dinner. It was all as +happy and parochial as a "Hansi" picture, and the fine old gabled +houses and clean cobblestone streets made the traditional setting +for an Alsacian holiday. + +At the Golden Eagle we laid in a store of provisions, and started +out across the mountains in the direction of Thann. The Vosges, at +this season, are in their short midsummer beauty, rustling with +streams, dripping with showers, balmy with the smell of firs and +braken, and of purple thyme on hot banks. We reached the top of a +ridge, and, hiding the motor behind a skirt of trees, went out into +the open to lunch on a sunny slope. Facing us across the valley was +a tall conical hill clothed with forest. That hill was +Hartmannswillerkopf, the centre of a long contest in which the +French have lately been victorious; and all about us stood other +crests and ridges from which German guns still look down on the +valley of Thann. + +Thann itself is at the valley-head, in a neck between hills; a +handsome old town, with the air of prosperous stability so oddly +characteristic of this tormented region. As we drove through the +main street the pall of war-sadness fell on us again, darkening the +light and chilling the summer air. Thann is raked by the German +lines, and its windows are mostly shuttered and its streets +deserted. One or two houses in the Cathedral square have been +gutted, but the somewhat over-pinnacled and statued cathedral which +is the pride of Thann is almost untouched, and when we entered it +vespers were being sung, and a few people--mostly in black--knelt in +the nave. + +No greater contrast could be imagined to the happy feast-day scene +we had left, a few miles off, at Massevaux; but Thann, in spite of +its empty streets, is not a deserted city. A vigorous life beats in +it, ready to break forth as soon as the German guns are silenced. +The French administration, working on the best of terms with the +population, are keeping up the civil activities of the town as the +Canons of the Cathedral are continuing the rites of the Church. Many +inhabitants still remain behind their closed shutters and dive down +into their cellars when the shells begin to crash; and the schools, +transferred to a neighbouring village, number over two thousand +pupils. We walked through the town, visited a vast catacomb of a +wine-cellar fitted up partly as an ambulance and partly as a shelter +for the cellarless, and saw the lamentable remains of the industrial +quarter along the river, which has been the special target of the +German guns. Thann has been industrially ruined, all its mills are +wrecked; but unlike the towns of the north it has had the good +fortune to preserve its outline, its civic personality, a face that +its children, when they come back, can recognize and take comfort +in. + +After our visit to the ruins, a diversion was suggested by the +amiable administrators of Thann who had guided our sight-seeing. +They were just off for a military tournament which the --th dragoons +were giving that afternoon in a neighboring valley, and we were +invited to go with them. + +The scene of the entertainment was a meadow enclosed in an +amphitheatre of rocks, with grassy ledges projecting from the cliff +like tiers of opera-boxes. These points of vantage were partly +occupied by interested spectators and partly by ruminating cattle; +on the lowest slope, the rank and fashion of the neighbourhood was +ranged on a semi-circle of chairs, and below, in the meadow, a +lively steeple-chase was going on. The riding was extremely pretty, +as French military riding always is. Few of the mounts were +thoroughbreds--the greater number, in fact, being local cart-horses +barely broken to the saddle--but their agility and dash did the +greater credit to their riders. The lancers, in particular, executed +an effective "musical ride" about a central pennon, to the immense +satisfaction of the fashionable public in the foreground and of the +gallery on the rocks. + +The audience was even more interesting than the artists. Chatting +with the ladies in the front row were the General of division and +his staff, groups of officers invited from the adjoining +Head-quarters, and most of the civil and military administrators of +the restored "Departement du Haut Rhin." All classes had turned out +in honour of the fete, and every one was in a holiday mood. +The people among whom we sat were mostly Alsatian property-owners, +many of them industrials of Thann. Some had been driven from their +homes, others had seen their mills destroyed, all had been living +for a year on the perilous edge of war, under the menace of +reprisals too hideous to picture; yet the humour prevailing was that +of any group of merry-makers in a peaceful garrison town. I have +seen nothing, in my wanderings along the front, more indicative of +the good-breeding of the French than the spirit of the ladies and +gentlemen who sat chatting with the officers on that grassy slope of +Alsace. + +The display of _haute ecole_ was to be followed by an exhibition of +"transportation throughout the ages," headed by a Gaulish chariot +driven by a trooper with a long horsehair moustache and mistletoe +wreath, and ending in a motor of which the engine had been taken out +and replaced by a large placid white horse. Unluckily a heavy rain +began while this instructive "number" awaited its turn, and we had +to leave before Vercingetorix had led his warriors into the ring... + + + + + +August 16th. + + + + +Up and up into the mountains. We started early, taking our way along +a narrow interminable valley that sloped up gradually toward the +east. The road was encumbered with a stream of hooded supply vans +drawn by mules, for we were on the way to one of the main positions +in the Vosges, and this train of provisions is kept up day and +night. Finally we reached a mountain village under fir-clad slopes, +with a cold stream rushing down from the hills. On one side of the +road was a rustic inn, on the other, among the firs, a chalet +occupied by the brigade Head-quarters. Everywhere about us swarmed +the little "chasseurs Alpins" in blue Tam o'Shanters and leather +gaiters. For a year we had been reading of these heroes of the +hills, and here we were among them, looking into their thin +weather-beaten faces and meeting the twinkle of their friendly eyes. +Very friendly they all were, and yet, for Frenchmen, inarticulate +and shy. All over the world, no doubt, the mountain silences breed +this kind of reserve, this shrinking from the glibness of the +valleys. Yet one had fancied that French fluency must soar as high +as Mont Blanc. + +Mules were brought, and we started on a long ride up the mountain. +The way led first over open ledges, with deep views into valleys +blue with distance, then through miles of forest, first of beech and +fir, and finally all of fir. Above the road the wooded slopes rose +interminably and here and there we came on tiers of mules, three or +four hundred together, stabled under the trees, in stalls dug out of +different levels of the slope. Near by were shelters for the men, +and perhaps at the next bend a village of "trappers' huts," as the +officers call the log-cabins they build in this region. These +colonies are always bustling with life: men busy cleaning their +arms, hauling material for new cabins, washing or mending their +clothes, or carrying down the mountain from the camp-kitchen the +two-handled pails full of steaming soup. The kitchen is always in +the most protected quarter of the camp, and generally at some +distance in the rear. Other soldiers, their job over, are lolling +about in groups, smoking, gossiping or writing home, the "Soldiers' +Letter-pad" propped on a patched blue knee, a scarred fist +laboriously driving the fountain pen received in hospital. Some are +leaning over the shoulder of a pal who has just received a Paris +paper, others chuckling together at the jokes of their own French +journal--the "Echo du Ravin," the "Journal des Poilus," or the +"Diable Bleu": little papers ground out in purplish script on +foolscap, and adorned with comic-sketches and a wealth of local +humour. + +Higher up, under a fir-belt, at the edge of a meadow, the officer +who rode ahead signed to us to dismount and scramble after him. We +plunged under the trees, into what seemed a thicker thicket, and +found it to be a thatch of branches woven to screen the muzzles of a +battery. The big guns were all about us, crouched in these sylvan +lairs like wild beasts waiting to spring; and near each gun hovered +its attendant gunner, proud, possessive, important as a bridegroom +with his bride. + +We climbed and climbed again, reaching at last a sun-and-wind-burnt +common which forms the top of one of the highest mountains in the +region. The forest was left below us and only a belt of dwarf firs +ran along the edge of the great grassy shoulder. We dismounted, the +mules were tethered among the trees, and our guide led us to an +insignificant looking stone in the grass. On one face of the stone +was cut the letter F., on the other was a D.; we stood on what, till +a year ago, was the boundary line between Republic and Empire. Since +then, in certain places, the line has been bent back a long way; but +where we stood we were still under German guns, and we had to creep +along in the shelter of the squat firs to reach the outlook on the +edge of the plateau. From there, under a sky of racing clouds, we +saw outstretched below us the Promised Land of Alsace. On one +horizon, far off in the plain, gleamed the roofs and spires of +Colmar, on the other rose the purplish heights beyond the Rhine. +Near by stood a ring of bare hills, those closest to us scarred by +ridges of upheaved earth, as if giant moles had been zigzagging over +them; and just under us, in a little green valley, lay the roofs of +a peaceful village. The earth-ridges and the peaceful village were +still German; but the French positions went down the mountain, +almost to the valley's edge; and one dark peak on the right was +already French. + +We stopped at a gap in the firs and walked to the brink of the +plateau. Just under us lay a rock-rimmed lake. More zig-zag +earthworks surmounted it on all sides, and on the nearest shore was +the branched roofing of another great mule-shelter. We were looking +down at the spot to which the night-caravans of the Chasseurs Alpins +descend to distribute supplies to the fighting line. + +"Who goes there? Attention! You're in sight of the lines!" a voice +called out from the firs, and our companion signed to us to move +back. We had been rather too conspicuously facing the German +batteries on the opposite slope, and our presence might have drawn +their fire on an artillery observation post installed near by. We +retreated hurriedly and unpacked our luncheon-basket on the more +sheltered side of the ridge. As we sat there in the grass, swept by +a great mountain breeze full of the scent of thyme and myrtle, while +the flutter of birds, the hum of insects, the still and busy life of +the hills went on all about us in the sunshine, the pressure of the +encircling line of death grew more intolerably real. It is not in +the mud and jokes and every-day activities of the trenches that one +most feels the damnable insanity of war; it is where it lurks like a +mythical monster in scenes to which the mind has always turned for +rest. + +We had not yet made the whole tour of the mountain-top; and after +luncheon we rode over to a point where a long narrow yoke connects +it with a spur projecting directly above the German lines. We left +our mules in hiding and walked along the yoke, a mere knife-edge of +rock rimmed with dwarf vegetation. Suddenly we heard an explosion +behind us: one of the batteries we had passed on the way up was +giving tongue. The German lines roared back and for twenty minutes +the exchange of invective thundered on. The firing was almost +incessant; it seemed as if a great arch of steel were being built up +above us in the crystal air. And we could follow each curve of sound +from its incipience to its final crash in the trenches. There were +four distinct phases: the sharp bang from the cannon, the long +furious howl overhead, the dispersed and spreading noise of the +shell's explosion, and then the roll of its reverberation from cliff +to cliff. This is what we heard as we crouched in the lee of the +firs: what we saw when we looked out between them was only an +occasional burst of white smoke and red flame from one hillside, and +on the opposite one, a minute later, a brown geyser of dust. + +Presently a deluge of rain descended on us, driving us back to our +mules, and down the nearest mountain-trail through rivers of mud. It +rained all the way: rained in such floods and cataracts that the +very rocks of the mountain seemed to dissolve and turn into mud. As +we slid down through it we met strings of Chasseurs Alpins coming +up, splashed to the waist with wet red clay, and leading pack-mules +so coated with it that they looked like studio models from which the +sculptor has just pulled off the dripping sheet. Lower down we came +on more "trapper" settlements, so saturated and reeking with wet +that they gave us a glimpse of what the winter months on the front +must be. No more cheerful polishing of fire-arms, hauling of +faggots, chatting and smoking in sociable groups: everybody had +crept under the doubtful shelter of branches and tarpaulins; the +whole army was back in its burrows. + + + + + +August 17th. + + + + +Sunshine again for our arrival at Belfort. The invincible city lies +unpretentiously behind its green glacis and escutcheoned gates; but +the guardian Lion under the Citadel--well, the Lion is figuratively +as well as literally _a la hauteur._ With the sunset flush +on him, as he crouched aloft in his red lair below the fort, he +might almost have claimed kin with his mighty prototypes of the +Assarbanipal frieze. One wondered a little, seeing whose work he +was; but probably it is easier for an artist to symbolize an heroic +town than the abstract and elusive divinity who sheds light on the +world from New York harbour. + +From Belfort back into reconquered Alsace the road runs through a +gentle landscape of fields and orchards. We were bound for +Dannemarie, one of the towns of the plain, and a centre of the new +administration. It is the usual "gros bourg" of Alsace, with +comfortable old houses in espaliered gardens: dull, well-to-do, +contented; not in the least the kind of setting demanded by the +patriotism which has to be fed on pictures of little girls singing +the Marseillaise in Alsatian head-dresses and old men with operatic +waistcoats tottering forward to kiss the flag. What we saw at +Dannemarie was less conspicuous to the eye but much more nourishing +to the imagination. The military and civil administrators had the +kindness and patience to explain their work and show us something of +its results; and the visit left one with the impression of a slow +and quiet process of adaptation wisely planned and fruitfully +carried out. We _did_, in fact, hear the school-girls of Dannemarie +sing the Marseillaise--and the boys too--but, what was far more +interesting, we saw them studying under the direction of the +teachers who had always had them in charge, and found that +everywhere it had been the aim of the French officials to let the +routine of the village policy go on undisturbed. The German signs +remain over the shop-fronts except where the shop-keepers have +chosen to paint them out; as is happening more and more frequently. +When a functionary has to be replaced he is chosen from the same +town or the same district, and even the _personnel_ of the civil and +military administration is mainly composed of officers and civilians +of Alsatian stock. The heads of both these departments, who +accompanied us on our rounds, could talk to the children and old +people in German as well as in their local dialect; and, as far as a +passing observer could discern, it seemed as though everything had +been done to reduce to a minimum the sense of strangeness and +friction which is inevitable in the transition from one rule to +another. The interesting point was that this exercise of tact and +tolerance seemed to proceed not from any pressure of expediency but +from a sympathetic understanding of the point of view of this people +of the border. I heard in Dannemarie not a syllable of lyrical +patriotism or post-card sentimentality, but only a kindly and +impartial estimate of facts as they were and must be dealt with. + + + + + +August 18th. + + + + +Today again we started early for the mountains. Our road ran more to +the westward, through the heart of the Vosges, and up to a fold of +the hills near the borders of Lorraine. We stopped at a +Head-quarters where a young officer of dragoons was to join us, and +learned from him that we were to be allowed to visit some of the +first-line trenches which we had looked out on from a high-perched +observation post on our former visit to the Vosges. Violent fighting +was going on in that particular region, and after a climb of an hour +or two we had to leave the motor at a sheltered angle of the road +and strike across the hills on foot. Our path lay through the +forest, and every now and then we caught a glimpse of the high-road +running below us in full view of the German batteries. Presently we +reached a point where the road was screened by a thick growth of +trees behind which an observation post had been set up. We scrambled +down and looked through the peephole. Just below us lay a valley +with a village in its centre, and to the left and right of the +village were two hills, the one scored with French, the other with +German trenches. The village, at first sight, looked as normal as +those through which we had been passing; but a closer inspection +showed that its steeple was shattered and that some of its houses +were unroofed. Part of it was held by German, part by French troops. +The cemetery adjoining the church, and a quarry just under it, +belonged to the Germans; but a line of French trenches ran from the +farther side of the church up to the French batteries on the right +hand hill. Parallel with this line, but starting from the other side +of the village, was a hollow lane leading up to a single tree. This +lane was a German trench, protected by the guns of the left hand +hill; and between the two lay perhaps fifty yards of ground. All +this was close under us; and closer still was a slope of open ground +leading up to the village and traversed by a rough cart-track. Along +this track in the hot sunshine little French soldiers, the size of +tin toys, were scrambling up with bags and loads of faggots, their +ant-like activity as orderly and untroubled as if the two armies had +not lain trench to trench a few yards away. It was one of those +strange and contradictory scenes of war that bring home to the +bewildered looker-on the utter impossibility of picturing how the +thing _really happens._ + +While we stood watching we heard the sudden scream of a battery +close above us. The crest of the hill we were climbing was alive +with "Seventy-fives," and the piercing noise seemed to burst out at +our very backs. It was the most terrible war-shriek I had heard: a +kind of wolfish baying that called up an image of all the dogs of +war simultaneously tugging at their leashes. There is a dreadful +majesty in the sound of a distant cannonade; but these yelps and +hisses roused only thoughts of horror. And there, on the opposite +slope, the black and brown geysers were beginning to spout up from +the German trenches; and from the batteries above them came the puff +and roar of retaliation. Below us, along the cart-track, the little +French soldiers continued to scramble up peacefully to the +dilapidated village; and presently a group of officers of dragoons, +emerging from the wood, came down to welcome us to their +Head-quarters. + +We continued to climb through the forest, the cannonade still +whistling overhead, till we reached the most elaborate trapper +colony we had yet seen. Half underground, walled with logs, and +deeply roofed by sods tufted with ferns and moss, the cabins were +scattered under the trees and connected with each other by paths +bordered with white stones. Before the Colonel's cabin the soldiers +had made a banked-up flower-bed sown with annuals; and farther up +the slope stood a log chapel, a mere gable with a wooden altar under +it, all tapestried with ivy and holly. Near by was the chaplain's +subterranean dwelling. It was reached by a deep cutting with +ivy-covered sides, and ivy and fir-boughs masked the front. This +sylvan retreat had just been completed, and the officers, the +chaplain, and the soldiers loitering near by, were all equally eager +to have it seen and hear it praised. + +The commanding officer, having done the honours of the camp, led us +about a quarter of a mile down the hillside to an open cutting which +marked the beginning of the trenches. From the cutting we passed +into a long tortuous burrow walled and roofed with carefully fitted +logs. The earth floor was covered by a sort of wooden lattice. The +only light entering this tunnel was a faint ray from an occasional +narrow slit screened by branches; and beside each of these +peep-holes hung a shield-shaped metal shutter to be pushed over it +in case of emergency. + +The passage wound down the hill, almost doubling on itself, in order +to give a view of all the surrounding lines. Presently the roof +became much higher, and we saw on one side a curtained niche about +five feet above the floor. One of the officers pulled the curtain +back, and there, on a narrow shelf, a gun between his knees, sat a +dragoon, his eyes on a peep-hole. The curtain was hastily drawn +again behind his motionless figure, lest the faint light at his back +should betray him. We passed by several of these helmeted watchers, +and now and then we came to a deeper recess in which a mitrailleuse +squatted, its black nose thrust through a net of branches. Sometimes +the roof of the tunnel was so low that we had to bend nearly double; +and at intervals we came to heavy doors, made of logs and sheeted +with iron, which shut off one section from another. It is hard to +guess the distance one covers in creeping through an unlit passage +with different levels and countless turnings; but we must have +descended the hillside for at least a mile before we came out into a +half-ruined farmhouse. This building, which had kept nothing but its +outer walls and one or two partitions between the rooms, had been +transformed into an observation post. In each of its corners a +ladder led up to a little shelf on the level of what was once the +second story, and on the shelf sat a dragoon at his peep-hole. +Below, in the dilapidated rooms, the usual life of a camp was going +on. Some of the soldiers were playing cards at a kitchen table, +others mending their clothes, or writing letters or chuckling +together (not too loud) over a comic newspaper. It might have been a +scene anywhere along the second-line trenches but for the lowered +voices, the suddenness with which I was drawn back from a slit in +the wall through which I had incautiously peered, and the presence +of these helmeted watchers overhead. + +We plunged underground again and began to descend through another +darker and narrower tunnel. In the upper one there had been one or +two roofless stretches where one could straighten one's back and +breathe; but here we were in pitch blackness, and saved from +breaking our necks only by the gleam of the pocket-light which the +young lieutenant who led the party shed on our path. As he whisked +it up and down to warn us of sudden steps or sharp corners he +remarked that at night even this faint glimmer was forbidden, and +that it was a bad job going back and forth from the last outpost +till one had learned the turnings. + +The last outpost was a half-ruined farmhouse like the other. A +telephone connected it with Head-quarters and more dumb dragoons sat +motionless on their lofty shelves. The house was shut off from the +tunnel by an armoured door, and the orders were that in case of +attack that door should be barred from within and the access to the +tunnel defended to the death by the men in the outpost. We were on +the extreme verge of the defences, on a slope just above the village +over which we had heard the artillery roaring a few hours earlier. +The spot where we stood was raked on all sides by the enemy's lines, +and the nearest trenches were only a few yards away. But of all this +nothing was really perceptible or comprehensible to me. As far as my +own observation went, we might have been a hundred miles from the +valley we had looked down on, where the French soldiers were walking +peacefully up the cart-track in the sunshine. I only knew that we +had come out of a black labyrinth into a gutted house among +fruit-trees, where soldiers were lounging and smoking, and people +whispered as they do about a death-bed. Over a break in the walls I +saw another gutted farmhouse close by in another orchard: it was an +enemy outpost, and silent watchers in helmets of another shape sat +there watching on the same high shelves. But all this was infinitely +less real and terrible than the cannonade above the disputed +village. The artillery had ceased and the air was full of summer +murmurs. Close by on a sheltered ledge I saw a patch of vineyard +with dewy cobwebs hanging to the vines. I could not understand where +we were, or what it was all about, or why a shell from the enemy +outpost did not suddenly annihilate us. And then, little by little, +there came over me the sense of that mute reciprocal watching from +trench to trench: the interlocked stare of innumerable pairs of +eyes, stretching on, mile after mile, along the whole sleepless line +from Dunkerque to Belfort. + +My last vision of the French front which I had traveled from end to +end was this picture of a shelled house where a few men, who sat +smoking and playing cards in the sunshine, had orders to hold out to +the death rather than let their fraction of that front be broken. + + + + + + +THE TONE OF FRANCE + + + + + +Nobody now asks the question that so often, at the beginning of the +war, came to me from the other side of the world: "_What is France +like?"_ Every one knows what France has proved to be like: from +being a difficult problem she has long since become a luminous +instance. + +Nevertheless, to those on whom that illumination has shone only from +far off, there may still be something to learn about its component +elements; for it has come to consist of many separate rays, and the +weary strain of the last year has been the spectroscope to decompose +them. From the very beginning, when one felt the effulgence as the +mere pale brightness before dawn, the attempt to define it was +irresistible. "There _is_ a tone--" the tingling sense of it was in +the air from the first days, the first hours--"but what does it +consist in? And just how is one aware of it?" In those days the +answer was comparatively easy. The tone of France after the +declaration of war was the white glow of dedication: a great +nation's collective impulse (since there is no English equivalent +for that winged word, _elan_ ) to resist destruction. But at that +time no one knew what the resistance was to cost, how long it would +have to last, what sacrifices, material and moral, it would +necessitate. And for the moment baser sentiments were silenced: +greed, self-interest, pusillanimity seemed to have been purged from +the race. The great sitting of the Chamber, that almost religious +celebration of defensive union, really expressed the opinion of the +whole people. It is fairly easy to soar to the empyrean when one is +carried on the wings of such an impulse, and when one does not know +how long one is to be kept suspended at the breathing-limit. + +But there is a term to the flight of the most soaring _elan_. It is +likely, after a while, to come back broken-winged and resign itself +to barn-yard bounds. National judgments cannot remain for long above +individual feelings; and you cannot get a national "tone" out of +anything less than a whole nation. The really interesting thing, +therefore, was to see, as the war went on, and grew into a calamity +unheard of in human annals, how the French spirit would meet it, and +what virtues extract from it. + +The war has been a calamity unheard of; but France has never been +afraid of the unheard of. No race has ever yet so audaciously +dispensed with old precedents; as none has ever so revered their +relics. It is a great strength to be able to walk without the +support of analogies; and France has always shown that strength in +times of crisis. The absorbing question, as the war went on, was to +discover how far down into the people this intellectual audacity +penetrated, how instinctive it had become, and how it would endure +the strain of prolonged inaction. + +There was never much doubt about the army. When a warlike race has +an invader on its soil, the men holding back the invader can never +be said to be inactive. But behind the army were the waiting +millions to whom that long motionless line in the trenches might +gradually have become a mere condition of thought, an accepted +limitation to all sorts of activities and pleasures. The danger was +that such a war--static, dogged, uneventful--might gradually cramp +instead of enlarging the mood of the lookers-on. Conscription, of +course, was there to minimize this danger. Every one was sharing +alike in the glory and the woe. But the glory was not of a kind to +penetrate or dazzle. It requires more imagination to see the halo +around tenacity than around dash; and the French still cling to the +view that they are, so to speak, the patentees and proprietors of +dash, and much less at home with his dull drudge of a partner. So +there was reason to fear, in the long run, a gradual but +irresistible disintegration, not of public opinion, but of something +subtler and more fundamental: public sentiment. It was possible that +civilian France, while collectively seeming to remain at the same +height, might individually deteriorate and diminish in its attitude +toward the war. + +The French would not be human, and therefore would not be +interesting, if one had not perceived in them occasional symptoms of +such a peril. There has not been a Frenchman or a Frenchwoman--save +a few harmless and perhaps nervous theorizers--who has wavered about +the military policy of the country; but there have naturally been +some who have found it less easy than they could have foreseen to +live up to the sacrifices it has necessitated. Of course there have +been such people: one would have had to postulate them if they had +not come within one's experience. There have been some to whom it +was harder than they imagined to give up a certain way of living, or +a certain kind of breakfast-roll; though the French, being +fundamentally temperate, are far less the slaves of the luxuries +they have invented than are the other races who have adopted these +luxuries. + +There have been many more who found the sacrifice of personal +happiness--of all that made life livable, or one's country worth +fighting for--infinitely harder than the most apprehensive +imagination could have pictured. There have been mothers and widows +for whom a single grave, or the appearance of one name on the +missing list, has turned the whole conflict into an idiot's tale. +There have been many such; but there have apparently not been enough +to deflect by a hair's breadth the subtle current of public +sentiment; unless it is truer, as it is infinitely more inspiring, +to suppose that, of this company of blinded baffled sufferers, +almost all have had the strength to hide their despair and to say of +the great national effort which has lost most of its meaning to +them: "Though it slay me, yet will I trust in it." That is probably +the finest triumph of the tone of France: that its myriad fiery +currents flow from so many hearts made insensible by suffering, that +so many dead hands feed its undying lamp. + +This does not in the least imply that resignation is the prevailing +note in the tone of France. The attitude of the French people, after +fourteen months of trial, is not one of submission to unparalleled +calamity. It is one of exaltation, energy, the hot resolve to +dominate the disaster. In all classes the feeling is the same: every +word and every act is based on the resolute ignoring of any +alternative to victory. The French people no more think of a +compromise than people would think of facing a flood or an +earthquake with a white flag. + +Two questions are likely to be put to any observer of the struggle +who risks such assertions. What, one may be asked, are the proofs of +this national tone? And what conditions and qualities seem to +minister to it? + +The proofs, now that "the tumult and the shouting dies," and +civilian life has dropped back into something like its usual +routine, are naturally less definable than at the outset. One of the +most evident is the spirit in which all kinds of privations are +accepted. No one who has come in contact with the work-people and +small shop-keepers of Paris in the last year can fail to be struck +by the extreme dignity and grace with which doing without things is +practised. The Frenchwoman leaning in the door of her empty +_boutique_ still wears the smile with which she used to calm the +impatience of crowding shoppers. The seam-stress living on the +meagre pay of a charity work-room gives her day's sewing as +faithfully as if she were working for full wages in a fashionable +_atelier_, and never tries, by the least hint of private +difficulties, to extract additional help. The habitual cheerfulness +of the Parisian workwoman rises, in moments of sorrow, to the finest +fortitude. In a work-room where many women have been employed since +the beginning of the war, a young girl of sixteen heard late one +afternoon that her only brother had been killed. She had a moment of +desperate distress; but there was a big family to be helped by her +small earnings, and the next morning punctually she was back at +work. In this same work-room the women have one half-holiday in the +week, without reduction of pay; yet if an order has to be rushed +through for a hospital they give up that one afternoon as gaily as +if they were doing it for their pleasure. But if any one who has +lived for the last year among the workers and small tradesmen of +Paris should begin to cite instances of endurance, self-denial and +secret charity, the list would have no end. The essential of it all +is the spirit in which these acts are accomplished. + +The second question: What are the conditions and qualities that have +produced such results? is less easy to answer. The door is so +largely open to conjecture that every explanation must depend +largely on the answerer's personal bias. But one thing is certain. +France has not achieved her present tone by the sacrifice of any of +her national traits, but rather by their extreme keying up; +therefore the surest way of finding a clue to that tone is to try to +single out whatever distinctively "French" characteristics--or those +that appear such to the envious alien--have a direct bearing on the +present attitude of France. Which (one must ask) of all their +multiple gifts most help the French today to be what they are in +just the way they are? + +_Intelligence!_ is the first and instantaneous answer. Many French +people seem unaware of this. They are sincerely persuaded that the +curbing of their critical activity has been one of the most +important and useful results of the war. One is told that, in a +spirit of patriotism, this fault-finding people has learned not to +find fault. Nothing could be more untrue. The French, when they have +a grievance, do not air it in the _Times:_ their forum is the cafe +and not the newspaper. But in the cafe they are talking as freely as +ever, discriminating as keenly and judging as passionately. The +difference is that the very exercise of their intelligence on a +problem larger and more difficult than any they have hitherto faced +has freed them from the dominion of most of the prejudices, +catch-words and conventions that directed opinion before the war. +Then their intelligence ran in fixed channels; now it has overflowed +its banks. + +This release has produced an immediate readjusting of all the +elements of national life. In great trials a race is tested by its +values; and the war has shown the world what are the real values of +France. Never for an instant has this people, so expert in the great +art of living, imagined that life consisted in being alive. +Enamoured of pleasure and beauty, dwelling freely and frankly in the +present, they have yet kept their sense of larger meanings, have +understood life to be made up of many things past and to come, of +renunciation as well as satisfaction, of traditions as well as +experiments, of dying as much as of living. Never have they +considered life as a thing to be cherished in itself, apart from its +reactions and its relations. + +Intelligence first, then, has helped France to be what she is; and +next, perhaps, one of its corollaries, _expression_. The French are +the first to laugh at themselves for running to words: they seem to +regard their gift for expression as a weakness, a possible deterrent +to action. The last year has not confirmed that view. It has rather +shown that eloquence is a supplementary weapon. By "eloquence" I +naturally do not mean public speaking, nor yet the rhetorical +writing too often associated with the word. Rhetoric is the +dressing-up of conventional sentiment, eloquence the fearless +expression of real emotion. And this gift of the fearless expression +of emotion--fearless, that is, of ridicule, or of indifference in +the hearer--has been an inestimable strength to France. It is a sign +of the high average of French intelligence that feeling well-worded +can stir and uplift it; that "words" are not half shamefacedly +regarded as something separate from, and extraneous to, emotion, or +even as a mere vent for it, but as actually animating and forming +it. Every additional faculty for exteriorizing states of feeling, +giving them a face and a language, is a moral as well as an artistic +asset, and Goethe was never wiser than when he wrote: + +"A god gave me the voice to speak my pain." + +It is not too much to say that the French are at this moment drawing +a part of their national strength from their language. The piety +with which they have cherished and cultivated it has made it a +precious instrument in their hands. It can say so beautifully what +they feel that they find strength and renovation in using it; and +the word once uttered is passed on, and carries the same help to +others. Countless instances of such happy expression could be cited +by any one who has lived the last year in France. On the bodies of +young soldiers have been found letters of farewell to their parents +that made one think of some heroic Elizabethan verse; and the +mothers robbed of these sons have sent them an answering cry of +courage. + +"Thank you," such a mourner wrote me the other day, "for having +understood the cruelty of our fate, and having pitied us. Thank you +also for having exalted the pride that is mingled with our +unutterable sorrow." Simply that, and no more; but she might have +been speaking for all the mothers of France. + +When the eloquent expression of feeling does not issue in action--or +at least in a state of mind equivalent to action--it sinks to the +level of rhetoric; but in France at this moment expression and +conduct supplement and reflect each other. And this brings me to the +other great attribute which goes to making up the tone of France: +the quality of courage. It is not unintentionally that it comes last +on my list. French courage is courage rationalized, courage thought +out, and found necessary to some special end; it is, as much as any +other quality of the French temperament, the result of French +intelligence. + +No people so sensitive to beauty, so penetrated with a passionate +interest in life, so endowed with the power to express and +immortalize that interest, can ever really enjoy destruction for its +own sake. The French hate "militarism." It is stupid, inartistic, +unimaginative and enslaving; there could not be four better French +reasons for detesting it. Nor have the French ever enjoyed the +savage forms of sport which stimulate the blood of more apathetic or +more brutal races. Neither prize-fighting nor bull-fighting is of +the soil in France, and Frenchmen do not settle their private +differences impromptu with their fists: they do it, logically and +with deliberation, on the duelling-ground. But when a national +danger threatens, they instantly become what they proudly and justly +call themselves--"a warlike nation"--and apply to the business in +hand the ardour, the imagination, the perseverance that have made +them for centuries the great creative force of civilization. Every +French soldier knows why he is fighting, and why, at this moment, +physical courage is the first quality demanded of him; every +Frenchwoman knows why war is being waged, and why her moral courage +is needed to supplement the soldier's contempt of death. + +The women of France are supplying this moral courage in act as well +as in word. Frenchwomen, as a rule, are perhaps less instinctively +"courageous," in the elementary sense, than their Anglo-Saxon +sisters. They are afraid of more things, and are less ashamed of +showing their fear. The French mother coddles her children, the boys +as well as the girls: when they tumble and bark their knees they are +expected to cry, and not taught to control themselves as English and +American children are. I have seen big French boys bawling over a +cut or a bruise that an Anglo-Saxon girl of the same age would have +felt compelled to bear without a tear. Frenchwomen are timid for +themselves as well as for their children. They are afraid of the +unexpected, the unknown, the experimental. It is not part of the +Frenchwoman's training to pretend to have physical courage. She has +not the advantage of our discipline in the hypocrisies of "good +form" when she is called on to be brave, she must draw her courage +from her brains. She must first be convinced of the necessity of +heroism; after that she is fit to go bridle to bridle with Jeanne +d'Arc. + +The same display of reasoned courage is visible in the hasty +adaptation of the Frenchwoman to all kinds of uncongenial jobs. +Almost every kind of service she has been called to render since the +war began has been fundamentally uncongenial. A French doctor once +remarked to me that Frenchwomen never make really good sick-nurses +except when they are nursing their own people. They are too +personal, too emotional, and too much interested in more interesting +things, to take to the fussy details of good nursing, except when it +can help some one they care for. Even then, as a rule, they are not +systematic or tidy; but they make up for these deficiencies by +inexhaustible willingness and sympathy. And it has been easy for +them to become good war-nurses, because every Frenchwoman who nurses +a French soldier feels that she is caring for her kin. The French +war-nurse sometimes mislays an instrument or forgets to sterilize a +dressing; but she almost always finds the consoling word to say and +the right tone to take with her wounded soldiers. That profound +solidarity which is one of the results of conscription flowers, in +war-time, in an exquisite and impartial devotion. + +This, then, is what "France is like." The whole civilian part of the +nation seems merged in one symbolic figure, carrying help and hope +to the fighters or passionately bent above the wounded. The +devotion, the self-denial, seem instinctive; but they are really +based on a reasoned knowledge of the situation and on an unflinching +estimate of values. All France knows today that real "life" consists +in the things that make it worth living, and that these things, for +France, depend on the free expression of her national genius. If +France perishes as an intellectual light and as a moral force every +Frenchman perishes with her; and the only death that Frenchmen fear +is not death in the trenches but death by the extinction of their +national ideal. It is against this death that the whole nation is +fighting; and it is the reasoned recognition of their peril which, +at this moment, is making the most intelligent people in the world +the most sublime. + +THE END + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Fighting France +by Edith Wharton + diff --git a/old/fghtn10.zip b/old/fghtn10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1f9b907 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/fghtn10.zip |