Part 15

I went to the movies for the first time in ages the other night. Sydney took Dulles and myself and we saw an excellent show: that Jap man, Sessue something (I bet Josey knows), and then some wonderful war pictures; the Zepps that they brought down the other day, close up, and most interesting. The tremendous size of them was what overwhelmed me. They look like a whole sugar factory burned up when they are destroyed. It is certainly true that no nation but the German would or could afford to build them now. I wonder if the French will get any good ideas from the one which is not destroyed. The supremacy of the air seems to be the great hope of the Allies now. Sydney cheerfully tells us that the Boches have an aeroplane with six engines. Think of it. Also I believe that they have some new horrors to spring on us soon. I have been told by a Suisse-Français girl that they (the Germans) have had the best harvest they have had for years; also that their first Italian victory fell on one of their biggest fête days, so they are sure that God is with them. No one that I ever see over here feels that we could possibly win a military victory for several years, and then it would be an air victory. I can hardly believe that the people will be able to endure another three years. Last spring was nip and tuck keeping the French going, and if it hadn't been for the rushing over of those troops to march through the streets on the 4th of July I hate to think what might have happened. At least, that is the way it seems to me. If Italy gives in, and it seems possible, as there is some sort of treachery there, and Russia is quite out of it, if she isn't worse,--on their side, I mean,--will the French hang on? Lots of people feel that all this changing of cabinets (and we have another one to-day) means that Caillaux is the man who will be put in eventually. He is the last chance, as it were, and, if he is once in, it is all over, for he is supposed to be pro-German. Rootie has many friends of various grades in the army and navy, who blow in and out at times and fill us up with gossip: how the whole of America is full of German spies; how the new submarines carry three-inch guns and fight the Allied destroyers on equal terms as a result; how the Chemin des Dames offensive is completely successful; what they think is the reason for the complete hold-up of all Suisse mail and trains and many French ones; how many troops have gone to Italy, and so forth. It is more or less discouraging as a whole. Conditions here in Paris are about the same. The coal situation seems to be better handled. Most proprietors have been told by the Government that they must heat their tenants or not ask rent. There is plenty to eat still. Suisse chocolate is not to be had any more. Sugar seems to be scarce, but not as bad as last year. Butter and eggs are high, but one can buy them. The swell tea-houses are having difficulty to make their cakes, but they do just the same. A great deal of honey is used instead of sugar, I think. There were special provisions for confitures being made this fall, so that I think we shall have all we want. There are still taxis to be seen about, but, although they have been restricted in what they can do to you in the way of flatly refusing to take you, still they can usually manage to make it so disagreeable for you that you prefer to walk. Gasoline is to be very, very scarce even in the army, I believe, next month, but fortunately we have a supply on hand. I shall be very glad to turn over the responsibility of the cars to H. soon, for there is quite a good deal to be done, and it grows more difficult to do it every day. Ford is completely mobilized now, and it is very difficult to have anything done at all.

Rootie says that we are going to have our pictures taken, and what she says usually goes, so you will probably get a picture of your beautiful daughter in uniform. Don't you dare show it to a soul if you do, though.

Rootie says to be sure to thank you very much for the toast-holder. We will use it a lot. Lots and lots of love to both of you, and all of you.

MARJE.

XXIX

FROM MARJORIE

Paris, January 1, 1918.

DEAREST MOTHER AND DADDY:--

If I could only tell you in words what our Christmas was like I would be so happy, but it's dreadfully hard to. First place, your wonderful packages came in plenty of time, and were grabbed by Rootie, who informed me that she was running our special, extra-private Christmas morning celebration, and for me to trust her!

We decided at the Vestiaire that we must have a tree for the refugee children,--our pet ones, at any rate,--and Mrs. Shurtleff was so pleased with the idea. We got a hall in the same building where Dr. S. used to have his meetings, and we had more fun decorating the tree ourselves, filling bags with candy which we bought after hours of standing in line at Potin's, and we gave two hundred refugee children the best Christmas party they ever had, I bet. We had a prestidigitator-man first, who was excellent, and who delighted the kids by getting enough flags out of a hat to give each child one. After he was through, we dropped a curtain which was hiding the tree, and which looked very gorgeous with its candles and piles of presents heaped around the base, and bowing and smiling in front of the tree was Père Noël (Rootie), who gave each child two presents. They were passed cakes and candy, and even the mothers who were sitting around the edge of the room (one grown-up was allowed to each family) got some cake. Then, after they received their two gifts, which were all sorted according to ages, they came to the door with mothers and brothers and sisters and were presented with a bag of candy each, a Christmas card, and a muffler, and were sent home. You never saw such a well-behaved lot of children, so clean and so good, and so happy.

Monday night we went to bed early,--that is, I did, and Rootie sat up until all hours arranging things for the next day. When I woke up, I found that Rootie had ordered eggs for our breakfast, and had slipped into the other room and made a perfectly delicious piece of toast for me. We had such fun over breakfast, and then I was led into the next room where the mantelpiece was decorated with a huge clock with presents tied on by red ribbons. There was a fire and lots of presents piled in front of it! All this when we had said we were not giving any presents this year! I almost cried! We sat down on our little stool, and I began opening all your lovely things. Oh, you were much too good to us! The candy was and is the best in the world. You don't know how we pick and choose and save the caramels till the end only. Rootie always goes down three layers at once, just to see what is underneath! Josey's dear little purse and the very effective picture of herself and her hair and ribbon were almost too much. Rootie was so pleased with your thought of her. We just had a beautiful Christmas morning together, and I can tell you we thought pretty nice things about our families who had taken all the trouble for us.

Rootie had every sort of a present for me. She had thought of everything that I have ever said I liked, or wanted to have. First place, some lovely little shell hairpins which are delightful. They fit your head so nicely. Then a lovely cyclamen plant; a dear little pot to hold a baby plant; a vase; a hearth-brush, for I get so cross with the one there is in the room now; a photograph of the two of us on the steps at Bourre,--which I believe she sent you, too,--with a calendar on it; also a calendar for the office and the most delightful little machine that clips papers together, and which I have been longing for for ages!--also a drum because I have been saying I missed mine so: this one is about five inches across, and has the sticks attached, and saves you lots of trouble, for you use it like a watchman's rattle; a beautiful laundry-bag, which is also much needed, and a sachet. You never saw such a lovely pile of things, and every one something which I needed, and wasn't she dear to take all that time for me! It seems I have been an awful nuisance while she has been getting the things together, because I insisted upon coming home when she was preparing them. I cannot tell you how all her thought of me touched and pleased me. It was just like Rootie to do it.

We had to go over to Miss B----'s at about eleven, for we were all to have our Christmas dinner there,--all us workers, I mean. I had ordered everything, and was generally in charge. Miss B---- lives in a charming little studio which has several of her pieces of sculpture in it, and is very delightful, anyway. She offered it to us and it did seem so much more homey than a hotel. She has a big, unfinished marble in the middle of the room which I had planned in my mind's eye to put aside while we dined, but I found out it weighs tons and would have to have three or four men to move it, so we let it stay and we put our table behind it. We borrowed the table from the rue Daguerre storehouse, and tablecloths from the ameublement; also chairs and glasses; and with Rootie's yellow saucers and Fiskie's blue ones in between, and fruit in the middle, we made a very effective table.

I had ordered the whole dinner from Coute's, a store near by that has very good cooked things, and which offered to send in everything piping hot ready to eat. This last suggestion appealed to me, especially as Miss B---- has no gas, and cooks on her stove, which was built to heat,--not to cook. Rootie having charge of the decorations fixed up the place cards prettily, and arranged the fruit. We were fifteen. Every one arrived on time, but the dinner! I began to get nervous at about five minutes to one, for the meal was ordered at 12.30, and I was afraid it must have gone astray. Dulles and Mlle. Herzog volunteered to go to Coute's and try to find our dinner. After they had left, the brilliant thought occurred to me that maybe I had told them the wrong number of the street. It is 18, Bd. Edgar Quinet, 18 like the Vestiaire, but not like the Daguerre number, --19, --and the more I thought it over the more sure I was that I had sent the dinner to 19! This thought did not cheer the company, as there is a very large cemetery opposite Miss B----'s and goodness only knew where the number 19 might be, so I put on my fur coat and new hat, which is very tall, and therefore heavy, and started out to find number 19. I started slowly, but as I went farther and farther, I got more and more nervous, and began to trot and then to run. I arrived in front of 19, which was an exceptionally shady-looking stable, bar, hardware shop, just in time to see Coute's boy, on one of those bicycle-pushcart affairs, piking down the street!! You have no idea of what a feeling that gave me. He seemed to be going fifty miles a minute, and with him was our whole dinner!! I let out a war-whoop, and started after. That coat of mine which Aunty gave me is not patterned after a running-suit, and to say that it and my hat, which toppled over my eyes every minute, and the snow, which was just perfect for coasting, hampered me, is putting it mildly. However, there was nothing to do but to run, so I ran; and after about a block (which seemed three to me), I attracted his attention, and also that of all the population of the Latin Quarter. He stopped and was most agreeable; said he had looked everywhere for the right house, but had found no trace. I didn't stop to argue,--I was so glad to see the pots and pans in that cart,--but I pointed out the way, and we returned triumphantly to 18. I can tell you it was a close call. Dulles and Mlle. Herzog met him on their way back, too, and held him up, but he had already left the food with us. It was delicious, in spite of its extra journey. Hors d'oeuvres of pâtés de fois gras; then two big golden-brown turkeys stuffed with marrons; mashed potatoes all yellow with butter, and just the right consistency; peas cooked up with lettuce and sweetened just a little; great plates of delicious currant jelly (we couldn't get cranberry sauce); a big bowl of celery salad; and brown gravy to go on the turkey. It was mighty good, I can tell you. We warmed things up a little while they began on the first course, then we shifted plates, four of us, like regular waiters. We had planned it all out beforehand, and Miss Curtis attacked the turkeys. She can carve like a whizz among all the other things that she does well. She made one bird go the round, and then there was plenty left of the second for Mrs. Shurtleff to take home some cold. You never saw a crowd enjoy their Christmas dinner more!

We had a surprise for them next. Hannah and I decided that Christmas wasn't Christmas without a plum pudding, so we scraped up three little already cooked plum puddings, which Mrs. Shurtleff had steamed for hours, Rootie and I gave the sugar we had saved this summer for a foamy sauce, and, although we cooked it too long, for I got so interested in eating my turkey that I forgot it, still it was so full of wine and sugar that it was delicious. We went to buy a little rum to burn on it, and found to our amusement that we must buy three big bottles, which we proceeded to do! (The new law requires that you buy at least two litres.) I wish you could see our room. It looks like a bar, for Mrs. Shurtleff also brought a bottle of cooking sherry for the sauce. Well, we poured enough wine on that pudding to light a half-dozen, and with holly in the center, it looked very gay and most Christmasy. Every one seemed to like it.

Then we had VANILLA ICE-CREAM AND HOT CHOCOLATE SAUCE!!! Regular ice-cream just like home, and the best I ever tasted outside of our house. Oh, it was good! By the time we had done justice to this, we were all in the state where we preferred to stand up! Some of them went to Dr. Cabot's Christmas carol party, where they went from hospital to hospital singing for the blessés. I wonder how they sang! We certainly made enough noise, and I don't think any one had a homesick thought, and that was what we were all scared of. Miss Sturgis was unable to come, and we missed her terribly. We made up a very nice plate of cold turkey, salad, jelly, and breadsticks for her, and armed with this and some ice-cream and sauce, we all went down to see her. We found her with a fire burning, and so we all sat around and talked and some of them slept, and then Mr. D----, a Red Cross man, blew in, and told us lots of interesting things about being on the commission for distributing German money for the German prisoners in Russia the first year of the war, and also of his more recent experiences in Italy. He was one of the men sent by the Red Cross with so much actual cash to help out there, and also lay plans for the future work. He was very interesting. We all stayed there until it was time to go back to the studio for a Welsh rabbit. I had to laugh when Miss Curtis asked if I knew how to make one. I said yes without thinking, and then realized that all I have ever done was to watch you. However, you know I would die before I would back out, so I went ahead with an expert air, and gave as exact an imitation of you as I could. I cut about the same size pieces of cheese, ladled out mustard with the cover of the tin, just the way you do, and poured on beer in little professional dabs, every once in a while. Then I stirred and stirred, and although it gave me heart failure while it passed through the gummy, stringy, curdly stage, still it finally emerged in a smooth thick state, and I hastily broke an egg into it, and gave it a final beating and served it. Wonder of wonders, they said it was O.K.! Far be it from me to say it was luck! We had scrambled eggs, toast, and salad also, and last, but not least, we had "asti spumanti." Oh, it was good! We wanted it for dinner, but we couldn't with the crowd, so we had it for supper. It was delicious.

I was lucky enough to have to go and see Madame Brunschwig, who is the great big-hearted woman here who has done so much for the housing of refugees. She started on her own backing herself, and she is wonderful. She let me sit beside her from 10 until 12.30 one day, and listen to her interview her people. It was so interesting to see how a Frenchwoman does it. She is so sharp, never misses a thing, very clear-headed, kind-hearted, and has that quick, wise power of decision which is so characteristic of Mrs. Shurtleff. It was very interesting to hear her say so many times just the things that I have heard Mrs. S. say. I feel quite sure that their two judgments on a case would be the same. I think it is well worth noting that these two women have done what they have without any social-service training; they just use their heads and hearts and common sense. I am not yet convinced that one has to go to the Boston School for Social Workers to be a good worker.

The gasoline situation has been very serious over here lately; the story is that the American Government took all the gas that came into France for ten days because they were getting short, and they would not stand for the lavish use of gas which had been going on. Anyway, they have finally stopped bons of essence for private cars. Miss Curtis says that she has been told that the English have made a fuss, too, for they have not had any private cars for a long, long time. We got ours for the work all right. It was reduced, but still we will have enough if we are careful, I believe. I have had lots of fun initiating Hannah into the game of "trying-to-get-gasoline-in-Paris."

The pastry-shops are really to be closed, I guess; the American ones have been stopped from making any kind of cake and even corn-bread. We got a big chocolate cake at Rebattet's Saturday, but I think it is the last. I am glad of it, for people at home are doing so much it seems to me we ought to be cut down over here, too. I shall be especially glad if they stop all this bonbon-making; it must use oodles of sugar. (I think we have enough for a few months, and then we will be home.) I imagine that it is the American Government that has brought pressure to bear on this, and it is a good thing.

Hannah and I saw some of the cement boats being built the other day, when we were outside of Paris; they looked fine. Very low in the water, just like regular barges, but, of course, they must be built in a much shorter space of time. I wonder if they are really using them as much as they expected to?

It seems to be a very critical time just now for the Allies. Lots of people are depressed and talking very gloomily. Evidently the Caillaux affair is pretty delicate. The English Government has been insulted, and it is up to the French to do away with the gentleman in question. They called the class of 1919 the day before yesterday, and also recalled that of '91, which sounds as if they wanted men. All the Americans we see speak cheerfully of three to five years' preparation, but I can't believe it. Isn't it awful to think of Padua being bombarded? Will there be anything beautiful left after this war? Even Jerusalem. We have heard such wild stories about how they have defended Venice from air attacks, that there are lots and lots of balloons up over it, and that they have wires stretched between each two, and, of course, a wire, even if pretty fine, will wreck an airplane. It seems that these wires can't be seen very well. I do not know whether this is true or not, but a very nice doctor who had just come back from there told us. By the by, he is the doctor who now gives us one afternoon a week for our refugees; then Miss Neivin--one of the workers, and who has had some first-aid training at home--can go into the homes afterwards and follow up the cases.

I wonder if the Boches have really got some new atrocity to spring on us. Every one seems to think that they have. I can't see how they can have time to think up anything else. Did you hear about the mirrors used on submarines so that they are very hard to see? It sounds plausible.

Lots and lots of love to you all. Tell John-on-the-corner, Mary Devlin, and all that I am looking forward to seeing them all in May. Tell Mrs. Dow that her candy is the best ever, and that it is in much better condition when she packs it in lead paper and in a tin box. Lots and lots of love again, and here's hoping that you are still alive after the eleventh page of rambling of your very-affectionate-and-looking-forward-to-being-home-soon

Daughter, Marje.

XXX

FROM ESTHER

Thursday evening, January 31, 1918.

DEAREST FAMILY:--

Last night was it--the biggest raid they've ever had on Paris. When I think that at nine o'clock I was sitting up in bed with a sniffling cold, bemoaning the fact that I couldn't seem to write anything but the stupidest sort of letter when I had a whole week packed full of events to tell you about--when I think of that, I don't know how I shall begin to tell you all to-night.

Every one has been expecting an air raid on Paris for quite a time, and Sunday evening we were all set for it, for the moon was full, and it was the Kaiser's birthday, and we worked our intuitions to the utmost. Last night, when I snuggled down in my warm bed, I had forgotten all such possibilities.

Suddenly I heard that siren that means one thing and one thing only. It's a dismal, foreboding sound. There's also an "alerte," a sort of horn that blows at the same time, that sounds as though a fiend were putting his whole lungs into it. I didn't stir at first because I thought it might be a false alarm, but the siren and the alerte kept it up and kept it up, so that Marje and I, for curiosity's sake, slipped into our fur coats and went out on the balcony. We saw a few aeroplanes and rocket signals and heard a distant booming of guns. The street lights went out one by one and the tramways rumbled ponderously home from their last nocturnal journey.

It was an ideal night--the moon had waned only a little and the stars were bright; but never did "the luster of midday to objects below" give such a desperate feeling of defenselessness as when we looked out across the Place and saw each tree and building stand out distinctly.

The guns grew much louder. We turned to each other and said, "This is something new--we've never heard anything half so near in any other raid." We were thrilled. We went across to the other apartment to see if Hilda and Gay and Fiskey were taking it all in, and just as we stepped into Gay's room, two terrific crashes came. We all rushed out on Fiskey's balcony and stood there trembling with excitement. She and Hilda said that there had been two great flashes; Marje and I had been in Gay's room just at that instant, and were as mad as anything to have missed something.

The five of us took our posts on the same balcony, where we had a superb view. Way to the left was the Eiffel Tower, invisible at that distance, but certainly one of the goals of any air attack on account of being the greatest wireless station. To the north lay the Place de la Concorde, with the heads of the Inter-Allied Conference resting, perhaps uneasily, in the Hôtel Crillon. All the way to the Place d'Italie, in the extreme east, we had the panorama of the sky, and you may believe there were five pairs of eyes that never missed a flash or a light.