Sunday, August 30th. The rumors of evil which yesterday all refused to believe as absolutely incredible are today accepted as facts. No bad news has yet appeared in print, the censor having suppressed even the slightest hint of misfortune. This lack of any definite information has had a disintegrating effect upon the public morale. Since all official news is denied them, the people add to their previous personal anxiety a ghastly terror of the unknown, multiplied and intensified as it manifests itself in the masses, already in a high state of excitement.[2]
Paris knows with a conviction that nothing can alter that the French armies have met defeat at all points along the line. They do not need dates, or names, or numbers; the one terrible fact that the Germans are again nearing the gates of Paris stands out with greater intensity because all details are withheld.
The Bank of Paris has begun to move. I felt it was an historically memorable day when I stood this morning before its great doors and watched the nervous, hurrying messengers endlessly streaming in and out as they loaded a row of trucks with France’s money bags. The bearers looked for all the world like a stream of ants carrying their larvæ to safety when an ant-hill is broken open.
It is commonly reported that the French Government is planning to flee from Paris. If that actually occurs the papers will doubtless announce it as a “strategic retreat.” The members of the various Embassies are becoming frightfully nervous and most of them will probably leave at the same time.
At the American Chancellerie all goes on quite as usual, partly because we are so busy that there is no time to worry, but principally because Mr. Herrick is so calm and confident that he sets all the other members a compelling example.
Early this afternoon it was reported at the Embassy that a German aëroplane had flown over Paris and had dropped several bombs, one of which had fallen near the St. Lazare Hospital. Mr. Herrick sent me out to investigate. I found that there had really been an aëroplane and that it had thrown three bombs, all of which had exploded. Many windows had been broken and one old woman had been killed. Few people, however, had actually seen the aëroplane.
The censor allowed details of the affair to be published in the evening papers, including what purported to be a translation of a note dropped by the German, saying: “The German army is at the gates of Paris. Nothing remains for you but to surrender.—Lieutenant von Heidssen.” This is an example of the inexplicable working of the censorship. The people tonight all seemed to believe that the German’s note is authentic.