Today has been such a great day. On Sundays we have no reveille, so we can sleep in, if we want to. Last night, the winter time-schedule set in, and I stayed up till 11:30, knowing that if I got up for the 8 o’clock Sunday breakfast, I should still have slept as much as though I had gone to bed at 10:30. That all sounds very hard, but means that at 12:59 all clocks were set back to 11:59, so France had an extra hour of sleep.
But this eight o’clock stuff was all wrong. At about 6:15 I heard someone say: “Germany asks for an armistice! Peace!” I thought I was dreaming, and went on sleeping, with the half-consciousness that attends an early morning sleep amid noisy neighbors. Then all of a sudden, Higgins, who sleeps in the next room, and who works from 9 P.M. to 6 A.M. came in and laid Le Petit Parisien on my chest, with the words, “Translate that for me.”
I rubbed my eyes and sat up, leaning on one elbow. It was the most unbelievably impossible thing that you can imagine – to wake up to a peace scarehead. I felt as if it must be Sunday morning in 1920.
There was no more sleep for me. I just lay in bed trying to think. The paper sounded so hopeful – as if it were all over. I could picture myself landing at New York, marching up Fifth Avenue. It was too good to believe.
At 7:30 I got up and went around the corner. There it was again, in all the other papers. Surely they couldn’t all be wrong. I bought two French papers and the Herald, came back, ate breakfast and read.
What will eventuate from it all, I don’t even pretend to guess. By the time you get this we shall both know. On second reading it didn’t glitter so much. But it is a step, and indicates the imminent succession of more steps.
What was more to the point, to my mind, was the news of the progress in Champagne, a most important central part of the line, which has been very inactive for almost four years. The good old French are advancing there, as indeed we are all doing, everywhere along the fronts, with a rapidity which indicates the weakness of the enemy. For me that is far more important than an armistice, at this time. I believe the Teutonic allies need considerably more drubbing before we want to quit. I should like to see more of our forces on German soil.
But, it was great news. You never saw such a happy bunch as ours. I wanted to go to Paris right away. I didn’t, however, until after dinner. Paris is its usual self. The circulations of its newspapers jumped some, but otherwise I doubt if the event had much effect. I think the smile which the whole city seemed to have was subjective rather than objective. I just felt good all over, and must have looked it, for everyone smiled back at me. I think the whole city was more cordial today than ever before. So many people spoke to Frank and me, lots of them in English. It was fine.
First we went to the Basilique du Sacré-Cœur– a huge, new, white church on top of a steep hill on the northern side of the city. I had been there before, but Frank had not. On a clear day you can see the whole city from that hill. It is impossible to describe the pile or the lavish beauty of the interior or the solemn magnificence of its huge bell.
This bell is a huge affair more than 3 metres high and more than 26 tons in weight. It is called “la Savoyarde” after the province of Savoie in the southeastern part of France, where it was cast. Popular subscription in the departement of Savoie provided the thing for this church. When it reached here it was said the campanile of the church could not accommodate it, so it is now off to one side in a temporary wooden structure. How they ever got it up that hill I don’t know.
We left Sacré-Cœur and walked around through the Montmartre section which lies at the foot of the hill. It is one of the liveliest and most interesting parts of town. It was here that the Apaches used to hold forth and up. Then we walked on and on till we came to the Arc de Triomphe, down the Champs Elysées to Place de la Concorde, then over to the Grand Boulevards and finally, near suppertime and St. Denis, we took the Metro home. We must have walked seven miles and saw many streets, parks, quarters and shops that were new and news to us.
Next post October 10
Letters from Sidney Friend During The Great War 