Madame Pérouse was accompanied by an English doctor, who was attached to another voluntary hospital. He gave a lurid account of the French Army, its hospitals and the state of its wounded as he saw them, including in his remarks advice against trusting the French Red Cross or anything else that was French. While he talked to Dr. Garrett Anderson, Dr. Murray came to an understanding with Madame Pérouse. Realising that the old lady really did not know what she wanted them to do and had no instructions to give, she proposed that they should go with her to the Hôtel Claridge and inform themselves as to the possibilities of that building.
The Hôtel Claridge was a large modern caravanserai on the Champs Élysées. As the builders had only just completed their work, the walls were hardly dry, and the floors were covered with débris. The whitening had not been cleaned off the windows, and men were still working at the electric light and in the boiler house. On the ground floor a series of large salons and dining-rooms opened out of one another. They had been designed so that no ray of sunlight ever entered them! But they were structurally capable of making good wards for a hundred patients. Luxurious and comfortably furnished bedrooms on the first floor offered accommodation for the staff, and large stores of new beds and expensive blankets were available. The building was intersected by long gloomy corridors, each one laid with an elaborate tesselated pavement and decorated with enormous mirrors. The chauffage had not yet been persuaded to act, and the atmosphere was cold and damp; but there were many conveniences in the shape of gas ovens and sinks as well as service-rooms—a fact which made the Hôtel a suitable place for a hospital.
The French Red Cross had already accepted the services of a Red Cross commandant and a small party of English nurses, and had quartered them in the Hôtel. Madame Pérouse proposed to attach them to the staff of the Women’s Hospital Corps and to let them work under the direction of the doctors. In the kitchen a chef had been installed, with some Belgian women to assist him, and the rest of the establishment included M. Perrin, the engineer, and M. André, the concierge, with his wife and family.
It was obvious that the Unit ought to move in at once and begin to get the wards into order. Meanwhile, there were certain formalities to be observed. The members of the staff had to be registered with the police; cards of identity had to be issued for each one of them; photographs were needed to complete these; and arm brassards with cryptic figures must be procured from the offices of the French Red Cross in the rue de Thann.
The Red Cross offices were the scene of great activity. In one large room numbers of ladies were engaged in writing examination papers which would qualify them as nurses after an intensive fifteen days’ course of study. They were ‘très bien mises,’ and the first lecture of the course gave careful instructions for the care of the hands and complexion, and included recipes for the preparation of pommades and other cosmetics! In an adjacent room ladies in white robes were winding bandages; and an office upstairs was tenanted by two gentlemen who occupied the position of directeurs.
The senior of these two was M. le Docteur M——, a man of a highly irritable nature which made him a terror to the Red Cross ladies. ‘Pour rien du tout,’ they whispered, his long grey hair would stand on end, his pendulous cheeks quiver and his corpulent person be convulsed; then, with threatening finger and bitter gibes, he would drive them from his presence. His method of conducting affairs was unintelligible to British people; and seeing how obstructive and perverse he was, it was a marvel that his staff accomplished anything. Dr. Garrett Anderson and Dr. Flora Murray, having stated their requirements to a secretary, were asked to sit down while he made out some papers for them, and from two chairs against the wall they had leisure to make their observations. With deep interest they heard a senior clerk try to obtain a decision from M. le Docteur and his white-haired, sleepy colleague as to the situation of ‘L’Hôpital Base des Alliés.’ Both directors were deaf, and he had to read the letter in question in a loud voice. The letter was ten days old, and the clerk urged this as a reason for deciding that afternoon.
‘Il y a déjà dix jours,’ he pleaded.
‘Et s’il y avait vingt jours!’ roared M. le Docteur; and suddenly subsided as he became aware of the interested spectators against the wall.
The clerk tried another line, produced a map and made further suggestions; but the older gentleman was tired of the matter. He turned his back on his colleague—still growling over the map—and concentrated his attention upon ‘ces dames anglaises.’
The papers being ready, the secretary directed them to another office where brassards might be obtained. Here a lady, with great volubility and in most rapid French, explained her intricate reasons for not giving them any! And as they did not much mind whether they had them or not, they bade her a friendly farewell and left the premises. Just outside they met M. Falcouz and laid the foundation of a pleasant little friendship. With his white hair ‘en brosse’ and his little tufted beard, he presented a sufficiently un-English and interesting appearance. It was his habit always to dress in black and to wear a black satin tie and gloves two sizes too large for him. He was the Red Cross Treasurer, and as beseemed his office, he beamed on the doctors and fell to discussing money matters.