to Paris, fretful to be
there before it was closed by a hostile army and a ring of fire.

13

There are people who say that Paris showed no sign of panic when
the Germans were at their gates. "The calmness with which Paris
awaits the siege is amazing," wrote one of my confreres, and he
added this phrase: "There is no sign of panic." He was right if by
panic one meant a noisy fear, of crowds rushing wildly about tearing
out handfuls of their hair, and shrieking in a delirium of terror. No,
there was no clamour of despair in Paris when the enemy came close
to its gates. But if by panic one may mean a great fear spreading
rapidly among great multitudes of people, infectious as a fell disease
so that men ordinarily brave felt gripped with a sudden chill at the
heart, and searched desperately for a way of escape from the
advancing peril, then Paris was panic-stricken.

I have written many words about the courage of Paris, courage as
fine and noble as anything in history, and in a later chapter of this
book I hope to reveal the strength as well as the weakness in the soul
of Paris. But if there is any truth in my pen it must describe that
exodus by one and a half millions of people who, under the impulse of
a great fear--what else was it?--fled by any means and any road from
the capital which they love better than any city in the world because
their homes are there and their pride and all that has given beauty to
their ideals.

In those few days before the menace passed the railway stations
were stormed and stormed again, throughout the day and night, by
enormous crowds such as I had seen on that night of September 2.
Because so many bridges had been blown up and so many lines cut
on the way to Calais and Boulogne, in order to hamper the enemy's
advance, and because what had remained were being used for the
transport of troops, it was utterly impossible to provide trains for these
people. Southwards the way was easier, though from that direction
also regiments of French soldiers were being rushed up to the danger
zone. The railway officials under the pressure of this tremendous
strain, did their best to hurl out the population of Paris, somehow and
anyhow. For military reasons the need was urgent, The less mouths
to feed the better in a besieged city. So when all the passenger trains
had been used, cattle trucks were put together and into them,
thanking God, tumbled fine ladies of France, careless of the filth
whic