Yesterday war was declared between France and Germany. One realizes how quickly it has come when in the American mail yesterday morning a copy of the New York Times dated only ten days ago devoted just a column and a quarter to the subject of possible friction between Austria and Serbia. When that newspaper left New York the whole world was at peace, but while it was crossing the ocean war has overwhelmed all Europe, and now when it reaches Paris twenty million men are rushing to arms.
Today peace-loving France realizes that she is attacked by a powerful and ambitious enemy. Today no man in all la Patrie regrets the sacrifices which he has made to maintain an army capable of defending his country; no man but gives fervent thanks to Heaven that he has been forced to pay taxes to support that army; no man regrets those three years of his life which he and each of his fellow-countrymen offered up in order that its number might not diminish, for now that army stands READY to prevent the ruin of his property, of his nation, of his women. It is Ready! At this moment—what a wonderful word! In modern wars little is of use which has not been prepared beforehand. Weeks only are necessary to ruin untrained and ill-armed forces, while years are needed to train an army and to manufacture arms. The victories of today are not won by Bravery armed with a rifle, but by Science supplemented by many complicated instruments.
Every hour of every day presents new sights or experiences unique in kind and all speaking dramatically of war. Each such sight is a surprise more vivid than the preceding one. Every day is a succession of startling novelties, each of which gives one a tingling shock. We are living so rapidly that some are benumbed, others intoxicated by the rush of events.
In the shops the prices of food staples have nearly doubled. The people are all anxious to lay in a little supply of provisions against sudden famine conditions, and the merchants are holding them up for all the traffic will bear. Articles that will keep indefinitely, such as flour, chocolate, dried fruits, potatoes, coffee, and preserved meats, are most in demand. Owing to the hand-to-mouth buying methods of the French, Paris is never more than three days ahead of famine. No one realizes this better than the French themselves, and therefore each and every one desires to lay in at least a small supply of provisions. A temporary shortage has consequently already occurred.
The newspapers have been emphatic in the denunciation of the merchants who, taking advantage of the national crisis, and making capital of the fear and need of the populace, have raised the prices of the necessaries of life, and have advised the people not to submit to the imposition. Today the poorer classes have adopted the policy of smashing anything for which an unreasonable price is demanded. I heard a big, broad “femme du peuple” ask the corner grocer the price of some prunes, several bushels of which were exhibited in front of the store. The reply indicating a rise of some fifty per cent. in the price, the woman suddenly picked up the basket in her strong arms, and before the astonished grocer could interfere, threw the whole lot into the gutter. Instantly a crowd collected which cheered the woman and jeered the grocer in so ugly a manner that he was thoroughly frightened. His confusion was made quite complete when a policeman arrived and declared that what the woman had done was well done. The results of this policy were immediately salutary and by this evening the shopkeepers of Paris are a very chastened lot, and prices are quite normal again.
The eagerness with which newspapers are bought and read is noteworthy. Each succeeding “extra” is snapped up with unfailing alacrity. The usual procedure is now reversed, for the newsboy is no longer seen racing at the beck of some haughty customer, but continues on his lordly way and allows the would-be purchaser to rush to him, or even run down the streets after him. The great journals seem unable to turn out enough editions or to get them out fast enough to meet the demand. The authorities, however, evidently consider this continual hawking of sensational news unnecessarily disturbing to the populace, and an ordinance is to be framed forbidding the crying of newspapers in the streets.
The Tour Eiffel, that plaything of a decade ago, has in this war become of supreme importance. It is the highest “wireless mast” in the world and from it messages have been exchanged with Washington, D.C. Its value as a sending station cannot be over-estimated. Russia may become isolated; indeed she is already virtually shut off by the curtain of hostile Germany and Austria-Hungary, stretching from the North Sea and the Baltic to the Adriatic. It is probable that wireless messages sent and received by the Tour Eiffel will soon be the only means of rapid communication between France and Russia. Fears for the safety of the tower have led to the most extraordinary precautions for its protection. It is assiduously guarded against the attack of spies by numerous sentries. Anti-aircraft guns are mounted upon its various stages to protect it against aëroplanes and Zeppelins, and heavy barbed-wire entanglements are to be built all around it.
A curfew regulation is now in force in Paris. No one is allowed in the streets after eight o’clock. Whoever is found out later than that hour is promptly conducted to his domicile by the first policeman he meets.
I received a cablegram tonight explaining that there is at the moment no means of forwarding money from New York to Paris. This makes my financial situation awkward, as I now have only three hundred francs. The worst of it is that one cannot even resort to the expedient of borrowing, because all one’s friends are suffering a like stringency.
Today is, officially, the “third day of mobilization.” From now on France will live not by calendar, but by mobilization, days. One speaks not of “Sunday, August 2d,” but of the “first day of mobilization.” Neither days of the week nor of the month exist any longer. All government decrees, railroad schedules, and military orders are dated by the new era. Events follow a schedule which has long since been prepared. When mobilization is announced the nation turns away from its everyday life and from the world’s calendar, and starts a carefully rehearsed set of operations executed according to an arbitrary schedule. One dimly remembers that if it were “peace time” today would be Tuesday.