CHAPTER 3

January 1, 1941–June 3, 1941

The American Embassy in Paris Relocates to Vichy

January 1, 1941

There were no festivities last night to usher in the somber days of the year that lies ahead. Private parties at home were quiet as the French and Americans made an effort to bring cheer into their own lives and into the lives of so many bending under burdens that seemed too heavy for them to carry. The Nazis were making the most of the coming in of 1941 and were loud and riotous in the night clubs and restaurants. I woke feeling a wearisome in the atmosphere, a dull hope, or it might have been no hope at all.

The snow grated under my feet as I left the apartment of Mrs. Freeman late this evening. On the little rue Barbet-de-Jouy where she lives, all was silent. It had been snowing all day and a white mantle covered the city; no one was on the streets. To be at home in the struggle to keep warm was the aim of the population. The château opposite was like a Christmas card. It, too, was covered with snow, and the light from the windows might have been candles lighting a Christmas tree inside. Tonight, there are no Christmas trees….

Is there nothing that can lift up my spirit, or that can lift up the spirit of those out in the dark to a plane where hope is? Not tonight, but tomorrow it will shine; the evil hour is fleeting, ephemeral, the light of faith lives on. We wait and turn to God….

That even the weariest river

Winds somewhere safe to sea.1

January 2, 1941

President Roosevelt’s address that came to the Embassy by radio bulletin and which, in spite of every effort of the Nazis to prevent it from reaching the French, filtered through to them and pierced the darkness. Is the entry of the United States in the war so near? The address unnerved the Americans in France; however, they do not know what to do. Some are too ill to take the trip to America; others are too poor. Should they remain and hazard the harrowing probability of a concentration camp? Should those who are ill risk death on a voyage that in these days would be precarious even to those who are strong?

January 3, 1941

No food in the market today. My governess told me that there is no food line as there is no food. The expensive restaurants are filled with the Nazis; in the smaller ones and bistrots the French find cheaper and simpler meals. Food and restaurants—where to go, what are the prices? These are the only topics of conversation. The ration tickets issued by the Nazis give more than one can possibly eat, even should one be able to procure the food. These tickets are given to the Diplomatic Corps, and we in turn pass them on to our French friends and, of course, to our compatriots not attached to the Embassy. The Nazis seem to have the capacity of eating a great quantity of food. They have a kind of appreciation of the French cooking but, as a French friend of mine remarked, “We cannot forgive the Germans for eating oysters with red wine.” An unforgivable sin in the French mind is to serve the wrong wine.

My shoemaker informed my governess that the next time my shoes needed mending, it would be necessary to take them to the police station where the agent in charge would decide whether they really needed new leather. Leather is scarce, and what they have today will soon give out.

From the British radio: success and important British victories in Libya2….

January 8, 1941

Down in Vichy, Admiral Leahy has arrived as the new American Ambassador to the Vichy government. He will present his credentials to Maréchal Pétain.

The French cling to the predictions from the clairvoyants. Today the prediction of Sainte Odile³ came to my notice. It was a letter foretelling present events by this same Saint who lived centuries ago: that a second Joan of Arc would appear to lead the Allies to victory, that the war would end in 1942 with the defeat of the Germans, and that Paris would be free. In the concentration camp where the British are interned, a fortune teller had told Diana FitzHerbert that she would soon be free and that the war would end in 1942.

January 9, 1941

There are rumors that Hitler is putting pressure on Spain to allow German troops to pass through the country; that the British are bombarding the French coast.

From the Paris-soir (German-controlled): not one British subject believes in victory; failure of preparation being the cause of defeat….

Notices on the walls of buildings in Paris read: “Vive Pétain” and “Let me alone with your talk of the de Gaullists, the British, the lies.”

January 10, 1941

Today I went to escape from all this tragedy. I want to leave the war to others. Why should I bother about it? It does not belong to me. It is not my war….

I almost ran to the rue de Verneuil to visit again the apartment I had seen in 1939 when I had searched for my own; I was being drawn to it again; it seemed so familiar as though I had been there long ago, had lived in it, had indeed known the people in it; I wanted to be sure that it was not only a dream. I wondered if the people had come back, or if the dust was still thick on the furniture because no one had come back; if the pictures loosening in their frames were still crooked against the walls; if the cobwebs still stretched from the ceiling down to the piano; or if, indeed, the restless spirit of the owner who had passed on to the Beyond, was still hovering around his dwelling seeking what? whom?

I was never to know the answers to these questions; I found an answer, however, in the impulse to wander into the past. I left rue de Verneuil and the apartment undisturbed as there was no response to my knocking or ringing from the concierge.

I turned to the rue de Lille that is quite nearby. Here I went backwards across the years, twenty-three to be exact, to that other war when I first came to France. Rushing past the concierge, I climbed the four flights and entered the tiny apartment that I had lived in for so long. There was the open fireplace; the embers were there, too, as quiet as they were in that time long ago when I sat before it trying to keep warm waiting for him….

Quite near was the small room where every bit of space seemed taken up with an object of antique art; next to it the bedroom, and beyond was the kitchen where I prepared a simple meal for him when he came for dinner. Romance was stretched out through the rooms as though it had never left. Love had been there; it must have stayed. I closed my eyes; love was a living thing in those past years. Where had it flown? Where does love wing its flight when it seems over and gone?

I ran down the broad stairs. There were tears in my heart; love had left its scar.

I crossed the spacious courtyard. The snow was falling in large flakes. Out on the street the concierge, the same concierge, older and grey, was shoveling the snow making a path for the tenants. She gave me a glance and turned away. Had the years changed me so much? All the memories of my life in rue de Lille rushed past. They disappeared, however, as I ran and ran. Even the nostalgia they had left in their wake vanished. I held one memory close, however—the one that had left a scar….

In the blackout I could not remember if I was living in 1919 or 1941. Time is an illusion….

A group of German soldiers passed. That brought me back into the present. German boots were not heard on a Paris street in 1919. Paris belonged to France in those days….

I am late. I must hurry on to my rue de Varenne, my dwelling. I must follow on with my people, my Allies, in this—my war. It makes me one with the great heart of the world. This is my war.

Names of Embassy Staff Given to German Authorities

January 11, 1941

The names of everyone on the Embassy staff were given to the German authorities a short time ago. The occupying power must take count of friends and enemies alike.

The clandestine tracts from the Résistance come to us more frequently as the Gestapo becomes stronger and crueler. The Musée de l’Homme4 at the Trocadéro is one of the centers of the underground. It is a glorious, courageous group of men and women, and it is in direct contact with England. The pamphlets issued by the different groups⁵ are diffused throughout France from such groups as “Résistance,” “Le Coq Enchainé,” “Libération Sud,” etc. The members of some of the groups are charged with the sabotage of transportation lines and munitions factories, attacks on isolated German soldiers, and the cutting of lines of communication. The reprisals by the Nazis go on, but instead of stopping these patriots of the underground, the resistance groups continue their work with ever greater activity.

Every day Frenchmen are taken by the Nazis: sent to camps, to Germany, to prison; some are shot or denounced sometimes by their own people. God forgive them.

January 16, 1941

From the bridge I watched the ice floating swiftly down the Seine. My fingers were almost frozen, and the icy wind attacked my ears. Leaning over the parapet quite near me was a Frenchman with only one arm; no overcoat covered the thin body; his suit was worn and of light material; tragedy and misery were in his eyes. Indeed, this is my war. There is no escape; so little one can do in the immensity of it….

In Le Matin yesterday appeared an article describing a Franco-American incident,⁶ scarcely amicable, which took place in Vichy. In a gathering of French and Americans to celebrate the Eve of the New Year, a Frenchman of the Vichy government protested that the gramophone was playing the British national anthem. Outside the building where the Frenchman and one of the American guests, who had resented the Frenchman’s remarks, discussed the matter somewhat forcibly; the former was given to understand that the gramophone had been playing one of America’s anthems, which has the same music as that of the British “God Save the King.” Unfortunately the German-controlled Le Matin made no mention of this, but suggested that the American be requested to leave France to “exercise his talent of a boxer somewhere else.”

It is 10:00 p.m. Not a sound is on the streets. The blackness outside is thick. It is not as safe in Paris as it was a year ago. Incidents occur every day of handbags being taken from women after dark, of assaults on passersby. One does not express any opinion concerning the present regime; those who have done so have suddenly disappeared leaving no trace. When an investigation begins by the family of the vanished person through the police, the Nazi authorities, naturally, are unable to find him or her….

The press continues to reiterate the intention of the Nazis to feed the Paris population. Germany is sending 400,000 tons of potatoes, 100,000 tons of meat, etc. to France they say. So far it has not arrived. Nazi promises!

Reading Mademoiselle’s household budget, I find for the week the following items for food: bread, barley (to mix with what is called coffee), onions, cheese (with no taste, a kind of Swiss cheese), apples, watered milk, lemons, ham, turnips, oranges, carrots and rutabaga. One day there was some butter. This is what we had for a week. It is excellent for reducing one’s weight. A friend asked me what I did to have become more slender.

It is time to write and read during these winter evenings by my fire, when all is dark outside, making it difficult to roam about even with an electric lamp. I take up my Middle Ages in France.7 There is a similarity in those far-off days and in Paris of the present time: dark streets, narrow streets, women with hoods as the snow falls in great flakes. There are few vehicles; at times none can be seen at all. Over in the Latin Quarter today I met Sylvia Beach,⁸ the attractive owner of her library “Shakespeare and Company.” Afterwards I wandered through the small byways leading to houses built in the tenth, eleventh, and twelfth centuries. Beneath the snow there was the aspect of the villages of that dawn of French history, the beginning of French culture that has never been equaled….

I leave the French Middle Ages and return to the dynamics of today of this twentieth century full of explosives from the English Channel down to Africa. There are days when one does not know whether a bomb will land some place near; or whether tomorrow will bring forth enough food for us to carry on; or whether an ultimatum or a simple invasion of another country will send us into different parts of the globe or even to our own land in defense of our liberties; or whether a member of the Gestapo will knock at our door some morning and take us up for questioning for something we are ignorant of, or make some grave accusation.

Embassy work goes on with increased tension. Crowds still remain to be repatriated; foreign refugees from other countries are still seeking visas to travel to the United States. There are American wives who must leave, separated from French husbands who cannot leave but who want their women to reach safety. There are sons separated from parents who want their children away from the danger of being sent to Germany or imprisoned. There are rich women leaving all the beautiful things they have collected during the years to return home.

January 23, 1941

The British took Tobruk yesterday.9 There was uplift of morale and in the atmosphere, as the voice over the radio rang out this splendid victory. It gave us new hope. Even those French who distrusted the British caught the glimmer of a light of liberation for their country. Twenty-five thousand Italians were taken prisoners by the British.

The German soldiers refuse to remain in their barracks around and in Paris. They know that the British bombs are merciless, as merciless as the Nazis have been and are, with this exception: the British make every effort not to kill women and children. As a result of this bombing, the Nazis are requisitioning more hotels. They give the residents already there twelve hours to vacate.

It is warmer during these days; there is a lull, so to speak, in the intense cold of last week. One can almost smell the spring. One cannot, however, be too optimistic. There is much cold ahead before the buds begin to show their first green in the gardens.

Some Embassy Staff Members Reassigned to Vichy

January 28, 1941

Some members of the Embassy staff have their orders to proceed to Vichy. Our radio bulletin chief was one. We shall be without news from the States. The Naval Attaché’s section of the Embassy leaves at once for Vichy; other members of the Embassy staff depart. As a group we are becoming smaller. Shall we remain until victory comes? Shall we be forced to leave?

German music over the radio was exceptionally beautiful. There were nostalgic love songs sung by a baritone of rare perfection. It was followed by French music in a lighter vein. The French prefer gay music today; the country has enough sadness. A voice sang “Chaque chose à sa place”¹⁰

Chaque chose à sa place

Les vaches dans le pré

Le chat sur le toit

Les oiseaux dans leurs nids

Et vous, Madame, dans mon lit…

Mais, oui!

Everything in its place

Cows in the meadow

The cat on the roof

Birds in their nests

And you, Madam, in my bed…

But, yes!

Edward Rothschild’s beautiful Château de Ferrières-en-Brie¹¹ in the Seine-et-Marne Department has been taken by the government for the services of the youth of the country.

Le Matin published in big headlines this evening “Great Britain reaches the end of its strength. American aid arrives too late.” As we have already arrived and have been with England for many months by sending munitions, planes, etc., the Nazi-controlled French press is juggling with the truth as usual.

January 29, 1941

Rumour persists that Maréchal Pétain is working toward closer contact with England; that war will be over this summer.

There was a feeling of optimism by the news; it was felt in the shops, on the streets. True or not, the rumour is grasped at by hearts that are reaching for peace, for freedom from this intolerable present. The man who sold me a battery for my electric lamp had listened to his radio and, hearing that I was an American, expanded his talks in criticism of the Nazis and of the great hope that the rumours were true. “C’est vrai, n’est-ce pas?” (It is true, isn’t it?), he asked me. For some reason he seemed to think that I had accurate inside information on these matters.

Even the market gave out more cheer as food appeared: rice, cauliflower, and yaourt; and pas cher du tout (not dear at all), said Mademoiselle, whose one idea is economy.

January 30, 1941

The cocktail party today was gay enough and crowded enough. But today in Paris, which is occupied by the enemy, cocktail parties are dangerous. All went well as I held an animated conversation with a Frenchman whom I had known for many years. “Yes, he is going to organize everything well,” called an exultant voice from across the room. “He will reorganize Europe; all will be different and a better world to live in after the Führer completes his work and develops his ideas. How wonderful he is! How well he knows!” The Frenchman who was lauding Hitler was standing next to a beautiful young blond woman. I asked the man next to me who she was. He told me that she was the daughter of the Chief of the Gestapo….

The Gestapo! My host is Hungarian; my hostess is an American from New York. They had dared to ask me under the same roof as the Nazis! They know my feelings on the matter….

The Nazis! It is not altogether for what they do, but it is for what they are, the measure of their inmost being: cruelty, inhumanity, pride, arrogance, hatred, ugliness. Because of their blindness to beauty, we hold them in dishonor.

Our actions are the result of what we are, that which is our being, our essence, our soul. The Christian philosophy teaches forgiveness of one’s enemies, for it is “not for the sake of the enemy,” writes Oscar Wilde, “but for one’s own sake.”12 It is for the betterment of our being.

I left the cocktail party with Paul R. of our Embassy. Out on La Place de la Muette¹³ we groped our way in the semi-darkness. A young German soldier, who had been drinking too much of his country’s very good beer, jostled against us….

In the restaurant Marius14 on the rue de Bourgogne there were few people. It had always been crowded; the copious menu was known to show excellent food, and the cuisine was one of the best in Paris. Tonight meat and vegetables were crossed off; no cheese, no dessert except fruit which, with a kind of soup, and an omelet, we had dinner. With the coffee being nationalized, which means undrinkable, we took none.

February 2, 1941

Optimism and hope endured only for a day. The feeling of apprehension returned. In the restlessness at night, in the silence before dawn, one hears the sobbing of France….

The French, while longing and watching each day for the defeat of Germany, at times are afraid that in the end Germany will win. What can they do? Countless persons are mesmerized by the propaganda and the news of the victorious enemy. It reaches us coming from the Russian front where the Nazis seem to be triumphantly reaching their objectives and aims. This mesmerism of fear is an individual as well as collective menace; it is an evil in our private lives that struts about like a Goliath with a long sword, a helmet of brass, and a coat of mail. “But there was no sword in the hand of David.”¹⁵ His power was born of God.

Snow was falling and covering the château and gardens opposite my balcony when I awoke as the sun came through the clouds. It vanished, however, but again there was the promise of spring.

Arrests by the Gestapo continue; the victims are increasing in number each day. Last night toward early morning three long police whistles sounded on the street coming from the alarm box on the corner quite near my apartment; then silence for ten minutes followed by gun reports. Overhead German planes flew above the city, above the activities below. The press gave out no news concerning it, but the rumours and whisperings grew that the underground had started an uprising.

The press states “the greatest air raid that has ever been known in the history of man begins soon.” It is the great German offensive in the air over England. The Nazis shout their victories. “German submarine warfare is on its way. Every Atlantic transport ship will be attacked!” Does that mean United States transport as well? If it does, it means war with our country. Hitler brags, or is he too drunk with victory to think?

February 4, 1941

Before me is one of the many predictions of future events of the war that are found in the press or in leaflets disseminated amongst the populace. They give a light of hope although their accuracy is to be contested:

February 20, 1941Occupation of Tripoli by the Allies

March 13, 1941Attempt to land in Plymouth by the Germans. The Germans are thrown back into the sea. African troops under the orders of General Weygand contacting British Army and under British Army orders.

April 20, 1941New attempt to land at Glasgow by German troops

May 7, 1941America enters the war

May 27, 1941Landing of American troops at Bordeaux, of the British at Boulogne and Calais

January 21, 1942Peace is signed

Hope indeed springs eternal….

Through the Door to the American Embassy in Paris

February 5, 1941

The notable, the famous, and some not so notable pass through the door to the American Embassy in Paris. Spies are around us; we are careful.

Madame Dubonnet (Jean Nash)16 swathed in a mink coat entered the Embassy for her travel documents for America as she was accustomed to do.

The Jewish rabbi, too, came in, he who a few months back was caught entering a foreign country in an attempt to smuggle cocaine hidden in his prayer book! A naturalized American citizen, he came to the Embassy wearing a long, dirty soutane; an unkempt beard covered his chest; he spoke with a strong Jewish accent.¹⁷

Then came Mr. X., one of the “confidence men” who had, with the much-played “rosary game,” swindled the simple and too credulous American tourists out of their money, their jewels, and American Express Travellers Cheques.¹⁸

Two lovely young things entered the passport office to have their papers in order for return to America. They were not enthusiastic about leaving Paris. They had lived here for some years; had been seen about in expensive restaurants and night clubs, on the Riviera, at Deauville and Le Touquet,¹⁹ any resort where gentlemen were willing to pay their fantastic prices. They were hatless and simply dressed at our government building today, while at Maxim’s²⁰ where I saw them yesterday, their castor [hat] and mink coats might have been made by Revillon²¹ and the smart hats by Reboux or Valois.²² They are courteous and simple and very, very clever; it is wise for them to leave Paris. One of them greeted me with a kiss and told me that she was contemplating marriage. I hope she makes it….

The Queen Consort of England²³ is sending packages of food, médecines, and clothing to British subjects in concentration camps.

Monsieur L., Préfet de Police, has been arrested with thirty-five members of his staff.

February 8, 1941

Over in the Saint-Germain-des-Prés district I stopped at the Deux Magots café where I had the café national and a biscuit. Facing me was the Church of Saint-Germain-des-Prés (Saint Germain of the Fields), the ancient abbey built in the sixth century, and older than almost any other church in Paris. It stands there, the survival of a past age in its superb Roman-Gothic architecture, having withstood invasions, wars, and revolutions. They have left their scars but have never extinguished that inner flame, that expression of spirit one feels in the great cathedrals and churches of France of the Middle Ages.

There are few students in the café of the Deux Magots today, this renowned meeting ground for intellectuals of every nation. It seemed so desolate that one wonders if it will return to its former fame and activities when this nightmare of war and government of France by a foreign power is finished. I gave fifty grams from my German ticket for my tart; five for matières grasses (fats, butter).24

In the packed house where a German film was being shown today, the newsreel pictured a Nazi plane bombing a British cruiser. Suddenly the house became brilliantly lighted. A policeman stationed along the aisles of the movie house scrutinized the members of the audience to note criticism and remarks against the Nazis. The punishment for any subversive observations was arrest and the closing down of the movie house.

February 10, 1941

“We shall not weaken or tire. Neither the sudden shock of battle nor the long-drawn trials of vigilance and exertion will wear us down.”²⁵ Mr. Churchill’s voice was strong and resolute over the radio as we listened in on the BBC.

Paris-soir in big headlines informed us that “eight months after M. Reynaud sent his anguished cry to the United States, Churchill is sending his.” How desperately the Nazis want it to be so! There is indeed anguish in the heart of the Prime Minister of England. He can but give his people “blood, sweat and toil.” He tells them however in his magnificent courage “there will be no compromise.” Does Hitler hear as he flaunts his words to his satellites who still believe in him?

There are rumours that numbers of French police have been shot by the Nazis; that numbers have sailed for England; that they are being replaced by the Gestapo.

Living as we do in this atmosphere of danger continually, we ask ourselves, as someone asked of me today, “Can it be possible that at home they are reading newspapers that give facts and events of the war, talking openly, leading normal lives?” One does not seek to escape or to be relieved from this immense opportunity for service in the great cause and in our daily work. There is hate, defeatism, and suspicion that we meet at every step of the way. If we are not vigilant, we, too, turn toward fear and loss of faith, which are useless weapons of defense.

February 12, 1941

My young French friend, who recently escaped from a military prison in Germany after killing the sentry, taking the sentry’s gun, and succeeding in crossing the border, told me that there were Germans of kindly feelings who hate the present regime in their country. Of course there are! He said that when the German guard in his section of the prison said goodbye to him, the German guard remarked, “I am ordered to take a medical examination. It will be the end, for there are no mutilated Germans in Nazi Germany. I shall never see you again.” Man’s inhumanity to man….

White narcissus blossoms fill my room. Their fragrance penetrates the apartment. Their message penetrates my consciousness. It is a vague message but very real.

At Rumplemeyer’s26 today I had luncheon with Jean. He was still in mourning for his wife who had committed suicide the day he left her for mobilization in the French Army in 1939. They were very much in love; she could not go on without him. His black tie and black armband were eloquent of his deep sense of loneliness. We were talking in low tones when we suddenly became aware of the waitress waiting for our order. At her side was a man, ostensibly the manager of the restaurant. It was the first time I had seen the “manager” accompany the waitress in. Was he another Gestapo agent? If so, he must have been disappointed as he listened to our conversation….

Rumour—the American Embassy is Leaving Paris

February 14, 1941

Vladimir gave us excellent Russian food last night at his small and delightful apartment on the rue de Chateaubriand. Baron Vladimir de Stukenberg is of British and Russian descent. He is a friend of the de Nemours whom he invited along with two White Russians and me. He had in some mysterious way found enough food to feed more than six persons which, with some vodka and red wine, made the party gay with the war far away until the conversation turned toward the war and the probable time for the war to end and which side would be the victor. Some were for Britain; others were sure of a German victory. Suddenly from across the table, Peggy de Nemours leaned toward me and, in her rather high voice with its suggestion of her Virginian birth, said, “Marie-Louise (that is my name), I hear that you are all leaving the Embassy—in fact leaving Paris very soon.”

“Really?” I questioned. “You seem to know something that I, a member of the Embassy staff, do not. We are not leaving Paris. The Embassy will remain. We are here to stay.”

“But, yes,” she persisted. “Within a few months the whole U.S. Diplomatic Corps is leaving the occupied countries. You will travel in private, luxurious trains toward the Spanish border, then on to Lisbon. From there I do not know where you will go.”

One of the war bombs might have burst quite near me as Peggy continued her story. The Duchess talks a great deal; however, it is always interesting, and I dismissed the idea. With a shrug I said, “You are mistaken, I am sure.”

Leave Paris? France? Abandon our friends in their difficulties and misery? It is unthinkable….

I came to my apartment alone although Vladimir wanted to see me home. If he had, he should not have been able to catch the last subway train, which would have left him in danger of being on the street in the blackout and of being taken to the police station to remain until the next morning at five o’clock.

Walking up the rue de Bourgogne in the dark with my electric light guiding my path, I recalled Peggy’s words about our departure from France. Could Peggy be right? How did she know? Where had she heard something so important that we of the Embassy were ignorant of?

Can it be true? There is too much to do. Some of our Americans are still here. And what of our French friends, those who count on us so hopefully, so trustingly. Shall we leave them utterly alone?

February 16, 1941

Rain, wind and cold in the early morning hours. Tonight it began again. I can hear the tap, tap on my window as I write. On the radio there is an Italian program; someone is playing Toselli’s Serenade.27 I turned back in memory to 1918 when I first saw France, when I played and loved and danced, when every day was an adventure and every night a dream. The Armistice of 1918 had given new life to the world….

The sound of the storm outside brought me back to the present.

A German announcer came on the air a few minutes ago. There was a loud applause as the news of German victories was shouted over the radio. Is all this going on forever? I brush my arm across my eyes to efface the thought. Where has my courage gone? What right have I to a moment’s, one moment’s feeling of defeat? I must be very, very tired….

February 21, 1941

There was the other side of the picture as the British broadcast gave the news. Ten thousand German troops nearing the coast of Dover in an effort to invade England were burned to death as oil was poured on the waters. The Nazis, it was affirmed, were using poison gas.

The enemy was too sure of victory. What did they expect? Weak, futile resistance? Or no resistance from that indomitable, unbending spirit of England? There is nothing weak about the British during these perilous days for their country.

At the Foucher²⁸ chocolate and candy shop, I tried to find some chocolate for my cocktail party tomorrow. There is none in the shop. An old man at the entrance, poorly clad, peering in at the almost empty windows said to me, “If you have nothing else to eat, eat salt.”

There are soup kitchens, however, around Paris, and there are Red Cross restaurants. Other inexpensive restaurants are valiantly carrying on. Yet the misery goes on. There is not enough for everyone….

To order a suit, I must have a card which is obtained at the Mairie, which is the police precinct of each city district. To have a card, I must allow an inspector to come to my apartment, look into my wardrobe and decide whether in his opinion I actually need a new suit!

Persecution of the Jews continues. At Maxim’s restaurant, which is controlled by the Germans, there is a sign on the door of the lavabo: “Reserved for Aryans.”

At the entrance of the subway, a German officer opened the door for me. As I waited inside for Mademoiselle X., a Jewess attached to our Embassy whom I was to meet here, I noted that the German officer had made no motion to give her the same courtesy….

A French lady was asked by a German whom she knows why the French disliked the Germans so much. She replied, “Oh?’ He continued, “Yes, in the subway when they find themselves next to a German officer or soldier, they at once move away to another section of the car.” She again replied “Oh?” She said nothing more. He must still be puzzled, or can he guess why?

Mussolini asked General Franco29 of Spain, so a story goes, for naval bases near the Spanish coast. “But what good will naval bases do you, Duce?” asked the Spanish Chief of State. “The British are taking your bases in Africa and in the Mediterranean countries and will undoubtedly take the ones you are asking for now. So what could you do?”

March 2, 1941

March opened like a lion with high winds and cold. A brilliant sun, however, shone over the city later in the day.

While some of the population goes to the races³⁰ toward the Bois in motor scooters and other curious improvised vehicles, I climbed into a carriage drawn by a horse and driven by the auburn-haired lady in red coat and tan breeches known throughout Paris. It was like a novel. Up the Champs-Élysées the driver was greeted by almost every traffic policeman on the way; some gave the “go” signal with an exaggerated stiffness of the arm as though it were a fast motor car passing. Men, women, and children were all for her; some applauded her, clapping their hands in cheer. Coco, the name of her five-year-old brown horse and the gentlest animal that ever was, was given sugar incessantly by the passersby.

Over in Africa war is going on. England is fighting for her life. British bombs are falling on Berlin, on Italy, on France. The sounds of battle reach us in Paris. The British broadcast, muffled by the Nazis, tells us that the German Army is facing defeat. Even a pro-German White Russian, whom I know and who told me recently that it was useless for the Allies to keep on against the tremendous strength of an unconquerable Germany, said today that he believes in an Allied victory….

The Bill for aid to England passed our Senate by a large majority.³¹

Norwegian Islands, whose food had been requisitioned by the Nazis leaving the inhabitants practically no food, were visited by British and Norwegian planes that dropped food down to them.

March 3, 1941

In the Tuileries Gardens the first indications of returning spring brought new life to heavy hearts. Fountains were playing under a resplendent sun, children were sailing their boats in the basins or throwing their balls; the budding of tiny green leaves were seen on bare branches of trees; lovers were walking arm in arm. It all brought to the surface a joy that is in the consciousness of all human beings. This joy is my rightful gift; at times it is latent, held down by a heaviness too great for a surge to surface….

The great dome of the Invalides was black, outlined against the night of the stars, as I neared it. I thought it looked swollen in the blackness, as though it were about to burst, correlated to the tension of the times in which we live. Are the times so big with events that soon they will explode into a climax?

Trouble was brewing at the Solférino subway;32 women were protesting their husbands being kept prisoners. The French policeman was trying to reason with them and to keep the Gestapo from any knowledge of the affair. Their voices grew louder, and their words became vituperative. The policeman shook one woman who kicked him. He promptly retaliated by giving her a blow on the cheek with the palm of his hand. She was so surprised that she stopped speaking and quickly disappeared. The others followed and there was peace.

March 16, 1941

The French-German press is full of blistering words against the British because of the blocus [blockade], which is preventing food from the United States from being distributed to “starving French children.” The British are preventing food from reaching the Nazis who, instead of giving it to “starving French children,” either send it to Germany or keep it themselves in France. A compatriot told me today that he was giving up his work of distributing food coming from America and returning to the States. The food, he said, reached the Nazis and no one else….

March 20, 1941

There is no further talk of the German invasion of England. The conquering Nazis were so sure. The French are reacting jubilantly as the word “Victoire,” or the letter “V” is being written everywhere in chalk on the buildings and walls. “Victoire” was chalked on my apartment house. As I entered it, the concierge was washing the writing away upon instructions from the police. The light is coming through; fleeting and evanescent, it shines toward liberty….

April 11, 1941

I tried to reach Vladimir’s apartment on the rue de Chateaubriand but could not find it in the dark. The concierge had disappeared, having been called by the Gestapo to answer questions concerning the whereabouts of her son who had escaped from a German prison. She denied knowing anything about him although they suspected her of hiding him. If it were so, she risked being shot immediately. Her son had gone with the Résistance we learned later; he had left no word with his mother, as he knew it would be dangerous for her.

The Résistance grows. More and more French lads go out to that dangerous existence—that vast network leading from General de Gaulle’s headquarters in London.33 They give up family and friends, their homes, all they have. If they are caught, they will be tortured or shot and often both. But they keep on, fearlessly, secretly, bearing false names, false cards; they are alone, intensely, cruelly alone….

I crossed in front of the Sainte-Clotilde Basilica³⁴ in the dark. There was a brilliant moon. The spires of the church looked like sentinels keeping watch. Around the corner I turned into rue de Varenne and my home….

Embassy Staff Receives Privileged Treatment in the Marketplace

April 12, 1941

Mademoiselle, my governess, is having a lively time with the German ration cards. At first, she was afraid to show them to “Monsieur Bœuf,” the butcher, or to the delicatessen shop, or to the milk, butter, and egg store; she thought she might be taken for a pro-German. When the shopkeepers knew that she was employed by a member of the staff of the American Embassy, she suddenly became an important person in the neighborhood. However, I was requested to sign my name at all the shops and to show my card of identity.

Big Ben rings out in the night from London over the radio. The news is serious. German troops are victorious in Libya. This, after the British gains. French morale will be low tomorrow. It affects us all. British determination to go on to final victory and the destruction of the Axis powers is accentuated. Nothing daunts these intrepid subjects of the British Empire who are commanded by a superb leader, their Prime Minister.

Mrs. G., a naturalized United States citizen of French origin, came into our building with all her French blood racing at high pressure. Young, beautiful, and intelligent, she had been accused by the Germans of being a spy. It was eventually proved that she was not. “Yes,” she almost shouted through the echoing walls of the Embassy, “I am selling the whole d… business and returning to America.” One of them who is the Kommandantur had said, “Ma belle petite espionne” (My beautiful little spy), and when I [Mrs. G.] replied, “Mon sale Boche,” (My dirty German), I was free at once!

April 21, 1941

Miss Neeser of New York came to us for news of her brother, Robert,^° who had not been heard of for several months. He was last known to have taken a train for Vichy, but since then no word. The Embassy is investigating.³⁵ What could be the reason for a tragedy of this kind? We are continually in danger, and no one is immune. We can put our trust in no material help today as capable as it may be. So far we are alone. We must look to God….

_______________

^° Robert Neeser has lived in France for years, highly respected by the French and the American Colony. He has left no trace. He has never been heard of since his disappearance.

Gun shots at four in the morning heard below on my street. Is the Résistance at work again? Those relentless, defiant, brave men of the underground….

May 1, 1941

The French Labor Day passes uneventfully. The Communists had no demonstrations. The air is warm although it is a grey day, drab and dull. It is a holiday, however. The promeneurs (the strollers) move about listlessly and silently. But they are pensive. Where are they going? Where is the whirl of events leading them and their country? They do not know. They only know that England is trying to stimulate them to stand firm in trust, to inflame their hearts to know that victory is theirs, if they will only believe in it. But they only hear the triumphant echoes of Nazi victories resounding from North Africa. What are they to believe indeed? It takes an illuminated faith to know that evil cannot triumph unless men, individually and collectively, accept defeat.

Tonight, over the radio the French from London are calling on all workers of France to stand together as one united people in the struggle for liberty. Here is confidence; here is a spirit of resolution. The reason for the silence on the streets on this first day of May, everywhere amongst the population, is clear. They had been urged by London to show no demonstrations today. The speaker told them tonight that the French in England were proud of them for their stand in abstaining from activities, hostile or otherwise. There were no lilies-of-the-valley on the streets nor flowers in the kiosques (flower stands on the streets). Everything was vacant and silent.

On my balcony the begonias and petunias were giving out their color and fragrance….

May 11, 1941

The first buses appeared on the highways today.

News from the women’s concentration camps came from a British subject, a woman of 65 years of age who had recently been released. Every night she was obliged to stand in a line of hundreds to use the lavatory outside the building; that the beds were so close together, they were obliged to leave by the foot of the bed as there was no room between beds to stand; that rooms which ordinarily hold a few persons were packed with double the number; to wash they were obliged to fetch the water outside the rooms along the corridor, bring the bucket to the bed, lift the mattress and let the bucket of water stand on the slats while they had their daily sponge. This English woman, who had been accustomed to every comfort in her home, said that she had been in the camp only four months, but that it was the longest four months of her life; she would remember it until the day of her death, so horrible it was….

The United States Chargé d’Affaires36 left Paris on May 7th for Lisbon en route for the United States.

One hundred and sixty French and German prisoners at the French prison in Fresnes have been shot: some of the French were held as hostages while others were caught in the Résistance by the Nazis; the Germans had been interned for desertion or attempted revolt.

Staggering news over the radio that Rudolf Hess, Nazi Deputy Führer and Hitler’s right-hand man, had taken a plane and had landed in Scotland. Was it a trick of Hitler’s to send him as a spy? On a peace mission? Had Hess lost his mind? Was it fear of the Gestapo that had decided him to escape? The speculations are numerous. Hess was at once imprisoned by the British. The radio stated that the English and United States, even the French press, were full of the incident.³⁷

Lost dogs wander through the streets, whining for their masters who were obliged to leave them behind as they took the long, dangerous path of the exodus; or who had forgotten them in their feverish haste; or who had left them with friends until their return. The friends, however, have not been able to find food for these unhappy wandering animals. If they are caught by the police, they are put in the pound where, if they are still alive after the war, their masters may find them again. Not only our four-footed friends are suffering, but the pigeons, the sparrows, and other birds are dying for lack of food. At night I hear the weird cry of the pigeons, hungry and desolate.

Embassy Gathers Staff Names, Telephone Numbers, and Addresses

The names of the Embassy staff, telephone numbers, and addresses were taken by the administrative section yesterday. It was a further intimation of the probability of the United States entering the war and of our leaving France. The uncertainty amongst the remaining Americans is growing. I am stopped on the street by our compatriots who ask me frantically what they should do.

“I must talk to you,” cried a voice near me today on the Place de la Madeleine. It was someone whom to my knowledge I had never seen but who knew me as being at the Embassy. She took my arm and led me into the entrance to one of the buildings….

“You must tell me,” she said. “Are we coming into the war? All my possessions, everything I own in life, is in France, in Paris. If I go, it is possible that I shall lose it all; if I stay, I face a concentration camp. You have heard what that means. What shall I do?” She was indeed distraught. What could I tell her? What advice might be useful? Would she take it?

I closed my eyes for a moment and saw the beds close together in the concentration camp, so close that the occupant was obliged to leave it by the foot; I saw the hundreds standing in line for hours to fetch water for washing….

“Madame,” I said. “I cannot tell you what you should do with your life. You ask me what I should do under your circumstances. I can only answer that from what I have heard and from the tales I have listened to from those unfortunate English women who have experienced life in a concentration camp. I feel that the loss of all my possessions would be worth it if it meant avoiding such a life.” She made no reply, and I left her not knowing whether what I had said had helped in any way.

Queen Wilhelmina of Holland spoke to her people over the British broadcast from England tonight.38 A great woman indeed! Her voice, clear and determined, counseled her people to stand strong until victory comes; her gratitude to Great Britain and her faith in her country were profound, and her words were filled with deep feeling.

The sounds of triumph were almost deafening as I turned on the radio in the small hours of the morning; the King of Abyssinia was entering his country—the first nation that had fallen under the power of the Axis Powers to be liberated!³⁹ The national anthem was sung as their flag rose over the palace….

A faint light of hope, dim but ever shining, takes on an added brilliance….

May 12, 1941

“Our industries, the tremendous steel industry of the United States and our other industries,” said Alistair Cooke⁴⁰ over the radio, “are larger than that of Europe, Asia, and Africa together.” With a “goodnight” in a tone that left no doubt in any mind which country he wished to impress, he left the air.

Today is the day to honor the canonization of Joan of Arc. The population was told that they must have no demonstration. However, they gathered in a great crowd at the Place des Pyramides⁴¹ in front of the golden statue where the Pucelle [Joan of Arc], astride her horse, holds her banner triumphantly above the assembled masses. The spirit of battle and victory of those far distant days in the history of France seemed to emanate from the youthful figure as the people, who must have felt it, unrestrainedly and fearlessly shouted, “Vive l’Angleterre, Vive la France—à bas les Boches.” The press noted that the women were louder than the men in their acclamations….

Rumours spread that the clandestine newspaper Combat⁴² will soon be distributed; also, that de Brinon,⁴³ appointed representative of occupied France to the German High Command, has been threatened by the Free French if he continues his policy of collaboration with the Nazis.

May 15, 1941

Le Matin (German-controlled) explained the recent radio broadcasts of the Rudolf Hess affair.⁴⁴ Rudolf Hess flew to Scotland feeling that he might arrange a peace or compromise between England and Germany—so Le Matin explains. The newspaper continues, “His humanitarian sentiments are particularly acute.” Knowing the great military power of Germany, Hess was afraid the English people would be completely annihilated in the next phase of the struggle. From papers Hess left (it was pointed out), he felt that England would not continue the war were it not for Mr. Churchill and his clique, who were intimidating the mind of the public. “They alone,” wrote Hess in his notes, “are preventing peace in the world. The consequences will be terrible for people living in the British Isles.”

The article states that as it seemed useless to Hess to discuss the matter with Mr. Churchill—that he did not wish to speak to the Prime Minister in any way. He decided that the Duke of Hamilton,45 whom he had met at the Olympics of 1936, would be the one man in England whom he might persuade to arrange a “peace of compromise.” The article stated that Hess expected to return to Germany within two days.

The surprised British imprisoned Hess immediately. How little Rudolf Hess knew the British! Compromise? The British will consider peace after there will be a surrender of the Nazis unconditionally. The Germans must be coming more nervous than is thought. Another peace offer is made to England!

May 18, 1941

To inaugurate National Fair-Trade Week, Secretary of State Cordell Hull said: “Threats to induce this country to refrain from all real efforts at self-defense until Hitler gets control of the high seas of the world … this is the favorite method to induce many countries to refrain at efforts at self-defense until Hitler is ready to seize them.”⁴⁶ The Secretary’s words were the answer to the German Grand Admiral Raeder threatening our convoy plans.⁴⁷

May 21, 1941

The SS Robin Moor (U.S. Merchant Marine)⁴⁸ was sunk by a German submarine off Brazil.

Soap is one of the luxuries of life. Its scarcity becomes more accentuated every day. Our Carte de Ravitaillement (supply card)⁴⁹ does not give us enough tickets for soap. A list of those who may have a larger quantity was printed in the press: those with occupations that accumulate dirt, dentists, surgeons, sanitary places, persons with special illnesses, and those with whom German soldiers are billeted. (The French ask if Germans are dirtier than most people.)

Spring days in Paris. In the Élysée gardens the first small daisies and purple clover appeared. The chestnut trees are almost in full bloom. The lilac branches are bending under the weight of their own heavy blooms. There is fragrance, light, and beauty around us….

More Embassy Staff Members Move to Vichy

May 22, 1941

Ascension Day!50 “Ascension Day,” a speaker over the BBC began, “is ascension after great tribulation!” Was he thinking of his country’s ascension soaring upward through tragedy, untold tribulation and pain?

The news that the Embassy is closing reached us like a thunderbolt. Part of the staff will move to Vichy. It is fraught too heavily with impending war in our country to leave us untroubled.

May 28, 1941

Why are waiting and uneventful days in our lives more difficult to endure than any action might be? This year, 1941, opened in shadow, in gloom, and moved on toward a despairing blackness. A “somber winter” someone called it. There was no light, no illumination to show us that there was a way out. A cruel enemy seemed to be always triumphant. Its victories were shouted to the world. The British held fast to the ship as great waves passed over her. Yet during those dark hours her strength and faith reached France. The Free French with General de Gaulle in England inspired their people in France to action, as the Résistance, unstopped, incessantly harassed the enemy. The light was still dim, however. In all these relatively inactive months, there was suspense, uncertainty, and contemplation; with many, unfortunately, there was an infinite trust.

Psychologically, spiritually, perhaps this period had its meaning. It was a preparation, a wandering in a wilderness of doubt and loneliness but which led to a vestibule of great events to come.

Activities seems about to begin….

President Roosevelt’s address to the nation and to the world was broadcast early this morning. The British said that the United States from Canada to Florida, from the east coast to the far west, or, in other words, our country was aflame with anticipation. Our President said, “But those people—spiritually unconquered: Austrians, Czechs, Poles, Norwegians, Dutch, Belgians, Frenchmen, Greeks, Southern Slavs—yes, even those Italians and Germans who themselves have been enslaved—will prove a powerful force in the final disruption of the Nazi system.”⁵¹ He issued a proclamation that “an unlimited national emergency exists.”

May 31, 1941

So much has happened at sea. Last week the British cruiser, the HMS Hood, is sunk by the German battleship Bismarck.⁵² The German-controlled French press made the most of it and of the splendid German victory when 1,300 British officers and men went down. It was not long before, to the amazement of the world, word came from the British radio that the whole British Navy was following the Bismarck. They sank her within a few days; two thousand officers and men were lost. A British spokesperson noted that as one German officer was being carried into port on a stretcher, the officer exclaimed, “Do not think we are fighting for Hitler. We are fighting for the Fatherland.”⁵³

The British advance in Africa.

The great oil fields in Iraq are in the hands of the Allies.54

Our Ambassador in Vichy, Admiral Leahy, is vilified in the Paris press as he travels to Marseille to receive shipment of food and médecines for starving France.

German Authorities Order All Staff to Leave the American Embassy

June 3, 1941

Orders came from the German authorities that every French national and every foreigner must leave the Embassy.55