The Making of Yesterday: The Diary of Raoul De Roussy De Sales
JANUARY 4, 1940. — Dined last night at the Dinner Club, with John Gunther as speaker, who gave us an account of Asia and Europe. In the general discussion which followed, and lasted until midnight, there was a revealing exchange of questions and answers. Each of us was asked (1) what should the United States do at this time; (2) what would the United States do if the totalitarians won the war.
The almost unanimous reply to the first question was to do nothing other than what is being done: to aid the Allies materially but not to send over a single man.
Opinion was about equally divided as to whether the Allies are in a difficult position and on the verge of defeat. One half prefers to wait and, if necessary, allow Hitler to win the war. The Allied cause does not seem to them either clear or convincing. In general, they believe that the United States will always be able to manage alone, that America cannot really be threatened. They also believe that going to war almost amounts to condemning American democracy to death.
The other section oscillates between progressive assistance (give up cash-and-carry; then fight) and total intervention once the situation appears to be too serious.
At bottom all these statements are the same, or practically so, and may be summed up as follows: (1) the undoubted wish to see the Allies win; (2) sufficient mistrust of them to justify limited aid or even no aid at all; (3) a tendency to minimize the disadvantages of a victory for the totalitarians: America will remain unaffected; (4) frank, even cynical, selfishness (if we get out of it, the rest of the world can go to the devil); (5) a tendency to minimize the interdependence of Europe and America; (6) a fear of war itself, going so far as to give an impression of cowardice; (7) few real convictions but great confusion, great difficulty in drawing a few clear conclusions.
Everybody agrees that, if London or Paris were destroyed tomorrow, there would be a great wave of emotion, followed by “And so what?
Such is the state of mind of the intellectuals and liberals: that is to say, a kind of rational abdication.
January 5. — Lord Lothian made a clever speech yesterday in Chicago, — possibly too clever, in which he gave a masterly demonstration of the necessity for the United States to help the Allies.
Lothian also stated that a formidable German offensive must be expected in the spring. He did not declare that the Allies would come out of it intact. In short, he tried to frighten the Americans and also to make them realize their future responsibility.
Saint-Quentin admires the cleverness of this speech, but observes that France is treated simply as a British dominion. That is true. But isn’t that exactly what France has become? It remains to be seen whether this daring speech will help or hinder.
Without having any proof, I suspect that the morale of France is crumbling.
January 19. — Eve Curie, who arrived here from Paris yesterday, draws a very discouraging picture of France. According to her, people cannot quite make out why they are at war. A considerable number of people are ready to stop it on any pretext. They do not grasp the seriousness of the situation. They do not conceive the dilemma in terms of life or death. The prospect of a France reduced to the rank of Portugal or subjugated is not clear in their minds. Or else it seems inevitable. They believe in the weakness of Good and the power of Evil. They say: “All we have is liberty.” Moreover, in many circles, ill-concealed tenderness for Germany and even Hitler is noticeable.
Evidently we can lose this war without fighting it.
Does Roosevelt, who talks of peace in the spring, know all that? Very likely.
January 21. — “The era of personal happiness is closed.” (Hitler, as reported by Rauschning.) A phrase of capital importance, to be compared with Saint-Just’s “The idea of happiness is new in the world.”
The French Revolution inaugurated the era of personal happiness. Hitler closes it. The Revolution discovered the idea of possible individual happiness on earth, accessible to all. This is the key to many philosophies and in particular to Americanism (the more abundant life). Hitler restores the concept of life sacrificed—but not for happiness in the world beyond: for the future happiness of the race and the nation.
Hitler completes the circle. After one hundred and fifty years of relaxation, man is invited again to become a galley slave or a martyr.
January 22. — Borah is dead. He is being buried this morning. He died of a cerebral hemorrhage, a disease common among ostriches, which keep their heads buried in the sand too long. With pompous tears people are grieving for the fearless, incorruptible, and so forth, American, the like of whom we shall never see again.
Saint-Quentin said to me: “I am hurrying to his funeral, first because my absence would be noticed, and also in order to make sure that he is really dead.”
January 23.—German propaganda: The Commissariat of Information in Paris asks me for information about this. In France people appear to think that the Germans are carrying on shameless, lying propaganda here. This is not true. German propaganda is the easiest of all. It consists in encouraging American pacifism, which is not difficult. One might say, as a matter of fact, that German propaganda finds the ground here very much better prepared than Allied propaganda, which leads to action.
January 24.—I think that, if the war is short (Munich peace), it will only be a truce, and none of the problems visible for the last thirty years will be solved. On the contrary, they will be aggravated. If the war is long, the whole of Europe and probably America will have embarked on an absolutely unpredictable adventure, but one which will greatly hasten the revolution which we are witnessing (leveling, totalitarianism, etc.). The war might degenerate into what is really its purpose — a general revolution—unless, on the contrary, nationalism becomes even more intense and destroys itself by its own excesses.
I said to R., “ I have a feeling that something very terrible and unforeseen is going to happen.” To which she replied: “No, not until we have peace.”
In a certain sense war is not destructive. It is an artificial means of preserving certain familiar phenomena in this world. To make war is to know what one is doing. Peace offers immense possibilities for unforeseen catastrophes.
The February number of Fortune is entirely devoted to America and its glorification.
The leading article modestly begins by explaining that the United States is not the greatest country in the world or the most popular, that it does not have everything at its disposal, but that the aggregate of advantages which it possesses makes it, nevertheless, “the greatest in the world.” The subtitle of this article is “Introducing the Superman.”
The thesis of this number of Fortune is that America is so great and powerful only because its inhabitants are a species of supermen in their capacity for production and exploitation on one portion of the planet. The issue is crammed with statistics which show in effect that the rest of the world possesses practically nothing. Every citizen of the United States possesses (potentially) at least nine tenths of all that can be possessed on this earth—automobiles, bathrooms, electric power, and so on.
An inquiry published in this number shows that the Americans regard themselves as Middle Class, and Fortune glories in this definition of the Americans by themselves.
Nevertheless, this issue leaves an impression of sadness, mediocrity, and devastating ugliness. The photographs show what is ugliest to America. One article is devoted to the salesman, who is called “the Great American Salesman.” Photos show this Great Man in the Pullman or seated in a hotel lobby, a cigar in his mouth and a spittoon at his side — true pictures and appallingly vulgar, but Fortune raises them to the level of the semi-divine.
February 11. — The reactions of London and Paris to the visit of Sumner Welles were rather cold and distrustful. It is possible that Berlin is the real object of this journey.
February 12. — Dorothy Thompson called me up to show me a most remarkable letter which she received from Axel Wenner Gren, the big Swedish industrialist whom I met two or three years ago when I was crossing with Dorothy.
Wenner Gren openly admitted that he had the “honor” of acting as an intermediary between the British government and the Nazis just before the war. A settlement with Poland was possible, he said, but the English were too slow and the Nazi extremists declared war. Today W. G. said that the English and the Germans know that their resistance to each other will last longer than was anticipated, and that it would be better to stop the war rather than engage in a long conflict which can be of no profit to anybody.
All that is necessary, he said, is to find a formula which will save the faces of both parties. But for this to succeed it is necessary for American opinion to bring strong pressure on the belligerents in favor of this peace. He asked Dorothy if she would undertake a campaign of this kind and if she thought it possible to associate other journalists with it.
Thus, for the first time, I have seen definite proof of the defeatist maneuvers of “ large internationalist capitalism.” Wenner Gren represents an entire caste. The idea of writing such a letter to Dorothy Thompson is inconceivable, but I saw the letter. He has written similar letters to other people.
One gets a picture exactly comparable to that of the Cliveden set in 1938. People of this kind have absolutely no understanding of what is actually happening. They innocently lend themselves to Nazi maneuvers, as did the German industrialists in 1933. Thyssen, now in exile, could have plenty to say about this. The principle is always the same: the childish hope of saving something through a government by force, either from fear of the democracies or from lack of confidence in them.
February 17. — Dorothy Thompson has given me a summary of what Wenner Gren told her about his activities during the month of August and before it. As early as June he had been empowered by Goring to tell Chamberlain that a German-Soviet alliance wasnot impossible. Chamberlain apparently thought this was a bluff. In August, Hitler made proposals via Wenner Gren for the settlement of the Corridor question. The English, according to Wenner Gren, made numerous demands, including the releasing of political prisoners, the end of any further racial persecutions, and the evacuation of Czechoslovakia, except for the Sudetenland.
According to Wenner Gren, Goring expressed himself as prepared to work for the acceptance of all these except the evacuation of Prague and Czechoslovakia. That, said Göring, is not to be discussed. Subsequently the suggestion was made for an interview between the Germans and Beck on neutral territory. Wenner Gren offered his yacht as a meeting place for the conference, and Beck accepted. But the English, according to Gren, were noncommittal. And Hitler tried to put some spokes in their wheels. Hence the war.
March 4. — Welles has seen Goring. One gets the impression that he must have had a “reasonable” conversation. He spent three hours with this fat man. The newspapers repeat the German plan for peace and insist on the German Monroe Doctrine. People are so stupid that they accept these Nazi fakes without much resistance.
The truth is always the same, apart from questions of doctrine and principle. It is simply a question whether, for the first time for centuries or at least in modern times, we are to see Europe, and consequently the world, dominated by Germanism. French domination ended with Napoleon, the last display of fireworks. That of Great Britain alone ceased in 1914. We are trying the Great BritainFrance experiment. If the Allies win the war, they will have to remain allies in peace. Great Britain alone and France alone can no longer do anything.
There is a secret wish to sec something new. People say that if the Allies win, there will be a continuation of what is already known. They and their systems have already been tried. They offer no further surprise. A German world would be a new experience which people who have nothing to lose, and young people generally, are prepared to face with a certain curiosity, because it would be unforeseen, adventurous, and a novelty.
A note of gayety: Otto of Hapsburg has arrived in Baltimore by Clipper. He stated that the purpose of this journey was to study the American federal and democratic system with a view to the creation of a future Danube Federation under the guidance of the Hapsburgs!
Another note of gayety. A taxi driver said to me: “Do you think my country will be dragged into the war?” — I: “You mean this country?” — HE: “No, I mean Turkey. That’s my country.” — I: “Sure it will.” — HE: “HOW long do you think the war is going to last?” — I: “Ten or fifteen years.” — HE: “Say, you’re kidding me?” — I: “Well, let’s say four or five years.” — HE: “Good God.” (Three minutes’ silence.) “The market has been doing well today.” I: “Who cares?” HE: “You mean you’re not interested in prosperity? — I said nothing. He:—“Good God.
March 7. — On the radio, the CBS broadcaster in Paris, commenting on the arrival of Welles at the Gare de Lyon, made this curious remark: “This reception reminds me of another reception, that of Ribbentrop.” The attitude of the Parisians, suspicious, uneasy, astonished by this mysterious messenger, could not be better described.
Stockholm has launched a sudden peace offensive between Finland and the Soviets. The Soviets are said to have sent a very stiff ultimatum to the Finns. Urged on by the Germans, the Swedes are doing everything they can to force an armistice. Paris is uneasy and wonders if Roosevelt is involved in this. I cabled that I did not think so. I remember the Wenner Gren affair. Could he have succeeded after all? It is not impossible.
The English have seized Italian ships transporting coal from Germany via Rotterdam. No reaction from Italy. Not yet. They seem to be surprised by British determination. Heinemann tells me the Italians are not ready to fight. They will be, in July, and will side with Germany.
March 13. — The moral defeat of the Allies is very painful. The cause of Finland had become their cause. They abandoned it, or did not know how to save it, which amounts to the same thing. The effect on the other neutrals will be considerable. The war will become harder. Unless, as certain people here wish, it is merely the prelude to the great downfall, to a new Munich on the grand scale, supported and encouraged by the U.S.A. and greeted by America as a triumph of good sense.
Last night Saint-Quentin told me that the King of Sweden is at the bottom of this whole affair, and that he addressed a personal appeal to F.D.R., asking him to bring pressure on the Soviets so that they might moderate their terms. If that is true, the result is beautiful.
How can one make people understand here? I have no idea. The strength and weakness of the Allied position is that Great Britain and France are fighting for abstractions (a certain type of life, “let us put an end to this”). The Germans arc fighting for concrete objects. Even supposing an armistice were accepted, it would be another Munich. Nothing more. This might be camouflaged, but nobody would be deceived.
We were invited by Mrs. Robert Bliss, who is giving a Stravinsky concert in the Town Hall for a French charity. Saint-Quentin was there, rather nervous and distracted, tapping his fingers on his hat, which he held on his knees. I sat beside him. I tried to listen to the music and succeeded in doing so, thanks to the ever living magic of Stravinsky for me. His Dumbarton Oaks Concerto seems to me one of his most beautiful works, one of the richest and best constructed, one of the most sincere. How can people say that this man is finished? But there were plenty of people present who still maintain that this music is painful to their ears.
March 28. — Sumner Welles has returned. His return arouses neither curiosity nor comment. How far away the time already seems when the press of the entire world was spying on every one of his gestures, every one of his expressions, trying to find in them traces of some Machiavellian plot for peace. Where is that peace about which people spoke so much and which they thought so near?
Raymond Gram Swing said to me, “If one could put on ice the ideas of peace that are now prevalent, what a marvelous peace we could make after the war.” Swing was afraid that when war really began in earnest, all generous ideas would be forgotten.
April 8. — The English begin to tighten the screws on Scandinavia. A mine field has been laid down along the coasts of Norway. British submarines have sunk German ships in the Skagerrak. The Norwegians are uttering loud cries and protest that their territory has been violated. The Germans are complaining that they do not shout loud enough. If the English hold out, there is a possibility of seeing in this region what Colonel de La Rocque used to call “sport.”
April 9. — Late tonight we learned that the Germans had occupied Copenhagen. This morning they occupied Oslo. Norway declared war on them. The Danes did not resist, but it appears that the Norwegians are trying to block their way towards the interior, where the King and the Government have taken refuge. In the course of the day we learned that the Germans had occupied Bergen, Trondheim, and perhaps even Narvik. How transports of troops could have reached the west coast of Norway is a mystery that has not yet been solved. Feeling against the English has increased on this account.
At the present moment (6.00 P.M.) a naval battle is in progress, but there is no news.
The reaction here is stupor and consternation. People are crowding in front of the AP tickers and feverishly buying newspapers.
I lunched at a book luncheon at the Astor, where Eve Curie spoke in a ridiculous atmosphere of commercial literature and bad food (an uneatable lunch provided by the State of Maine) and humorous poetry by Ogden Nash. Eve made an extraordinarily moving speech. Major Eliot, who discussed the situation, told me that it was the last chance of the English.
April 14.—Chadenet (Société Générale), who lunched here, told me that Westrick, the new German agent, has been strolling around Wall Street for the last week, saying that the war would end in September with a German victory and that we ought to think of resuming commercial relations. He suggested that the Americans should lend money to the Germans. This astounding cheek is impressive.
May 5. — Yesterday I saw Erika Mann, who said: “There is a kind of sinister justice in the fact that Hitler is gathering the fruit of several years’ efforts and sacrifices imposed on his people.”
I sent a cable yesterday to Paris-Soir, in which I tried to explain the twofold effect of events on opinion over here. First, a feeling of growing alarm because the favorite champion, the defender, is losing; but second, irritation against this champion because he is allowing himself to be beaten. Losers are never popular.
The complete absence of news from Paris is not reassuring. I can imagine what people are thinking in Paris, the recriminations over England’s mumbling statements, the agitation among the Anglophobes, who would like to come to an understanding with the Reich, and who think that the war ought to be stopped, since it has started so badly. The Lavals and Bonnets must be delighted.
May 7. — After sitting for two days, the House of Commons gave Chamberlain a majority of 281 to 200, the weakest he has ever received.
According to press and radio reports, his defense was lamentable. He admitted the mistakes made in Norway without apology. On three occasions he spoke of the approaching German attack on Great Britain, and gave an impression of defeat and fear.
Lloyd George attacked him with astonishing violence. “Chamberlain,” he said, “has met Hitler, hot h in peace and in war. Each time he was beaten.” This phrase really sums up the whole situation.
Chamberlain remains in power, but he has been winged so badly that it seems impossible that he can last. Obviously, this wretched man understands nothing. His failure at Trondheim recalls Berchtesgaden and Godesberg — the same astonishment , the same naïveté, when confronted by the audacity and treachery of the enemy.
The democratic frankness of the debates in the House of Commons at such a time is not without its greatness. There is something sublime — or insane — about this English readiness to display their weaknesses, fears, and mistakes. The New York Herald Tribune is almost shocked. “It is a magnificent exhibition of democracy. It is not war.”
Be that as it may, these debates in the House leave an impression of greatness. In a certain sense they restore the prestige of Britain, which was shaken by the Norwegian defeat. Nowhere else in the world would it be possible to hold such debates in such grave circumstances. Churchill coldly stated that the danger had never been so great, even in the last war. It takes great courage to make such admissions. Neither the Germans nor the Italians will understand the value of these historic debates. They will see in them only signs of decadence and weakness. As a matter of fact, this is the first time for many years that parliamentarism, with all that it implies, has achieved a real victory. This is the first real, sincere manifestation of what is called democracy.
May 10. — This morning the Germans invaded Holland, Belgium, and Luxemburg. The pretext given by Ribbentrop is that he has proof that the Allies wanted to invade these countries first. The pretext is of little importance. The truth is that the great onslaught is beginning, with the object of ending the war this year.
The Dutch and the Belgians have asked the Allies for help, which has been given to them. It is difficult not to despise these small or large neutral countries, who crawl for aid — but always too late.
May 14. — After an offensive of four days, Holland has abandoned all resistance. Queen Wilhelmina is in England. Almost the entire country is occupied. Rotterdam and Amsterdam are in flames. It is probable that the Dutch army will have to capitulate.
The Germans have occupied Sedan, which produced some striking headlines in the papers. They are marching on Brussels and attacking in force near Longwy.
It is still impossible to form a clear idea of the situation. Some allege that the German objectives are simply the Channel ports. Others, that they are marching on Paris. Here there is an atmosphere of panic. The situation is bad, but it was not unforeseen. The war is not lost.
Walter Lippmann, who dined here, is more optimistic. His intention (and that of many others just now) is to increase American help to the Allies immediately. A little late, people are discovering that we shall not win the war without the United States, and that we may lose it before America has time to reconsider its position.
I have no decided opinion, or at least my opinion has not changed. We may lose the war in a few weeks or a few months. That is all. We must take this possibility into account.
May 19. — Yesterday Reynaud announced a reform of his cabinet. He remains Prime Minister, but takes over War. Daladier goes to the Quai d’Orsay, Mandel to the Interior. Retain becomes Vice President of the Council and Minister of State.
The nomination of the hero of Verdun and Burgos is surprising. It is curious that France, in case of peril, has this desire to be surrounded by the decrepit and half-dead. Pétain is eighty-four. I imagine the reasons for this nomination are to do a Hindenburg act and to check Mandel, who will doubtless throw a lot of people into prison (but the Marshal will protect some people, Laval among others); and to cover up the imminent shelving of Gamelin and a few others.
When one thinks of the stories about the stupidity of the Germans, who gave us nine months’ respite in which to mobilize and prepare! How were these nine months used? Evidently to sleep and to complain of the boredom of such a dull war.
Pleven, whom I saw last night, and who is leaving on the Clipper this morning, is full of depressing stories about the lack of planes and the muddle of the High Command. He went so far as to say that it was a question whether there were not people on the General Staff who did not want to fight. That is possible, since there were so many of them in the government and elsewhere. One cannot make war when one has definitely decided in advance not to kill anybody.
May 20. — Gamelin has been shelved and replaced by Weygand. This was inevitable. You cannot have nine months of complete quiet in which to prepare, and finally be taken by surprise, as Gamelin was. Daladier and Gamelin represent the school of defensive and economic war. It was logical that they should be replaced. It is a pity that it was perhaps too late and that the war is lost. It is useless to blame Gamelin or Daladier. They both represented what the French wanted until last week: a reluctant war, prudent and unreal; a war which would not be war, in spite of everything. Today hundreds of thousands of men must be sacrificed, because nobody wanted anyone to be sacrificed.
May 24. — Later on it will be difficult to recapture one’s impressions of these days. They cannot, however, be analyzed. They consist of painful little shocks, superadded to a general feeling of indescribable uneasiness. The physical feeling that the world is collapsing beneath our feet is intense.
It is only a fortnight since the Germans attacked Holland and Belgium. Today they are in Boulogne, perhaps Calais. They are preparing for their big, final undertaking, the attack on England. This is still more formidable than the invasion of France and our recent defeats, more pregnant with consequences and more unthinkable. The Straits of Dover have become simply something a little wider than the Meuse, but if the Germans cross it, that will be the end of something too customary and too familiar for one to feel detached about it.
May 28. — The war appears to be lost. This morning Reynaud announced on the radio that the King of Belgium had decided to surrender, with his army. Reynaud says that this decision was made without consulting the Allies. This is nothing short of treason. The Belgian government, which had taken refuge in Paris, has refused to recognize the royal decision and continues the struggle with the Allies. But the majority of the Belgian Army, 250,000 or 400,000 men, have laid down their arms. The consequence is that the English and French armies in the northern pocket are probably doomed. It is only a question of a few hours.
Different reasons are circulating as to why Leopold surrendered. None is valid. The facts are that this king called to the Allies for help a fortnight ago, and today he is surrendering to the Germans alone.
The French are, therefore, alone on the Somme, facing the Germans, who are at least twice as numerous. The entrance of Italy into the war is now almost certain.
June 4, — Yesterday the Germans bombed Paris. Two hundred planes, they say, dropped a thousand bombs. At first they said only forty-five people were killed. Tonight they admit many more.
Here things continue to sizzle. On every hand there is talk of sending planes. The question is: Where are they to be found? The figures given to me by Colonel Jacquin, head of the Air Mission, are devastating. According to him, there are not more than three hundred and forty-four planes available. I have neither the time nor the energy to recount in detail all the projects which are springing up on every side and all the efforts that have been made. It is all being done in a haphazard way. Saint-Quentin told me this evening that there was some hope of our getting a few planes. How many I do not know.
June 9, 5.00 P.M. — Eve telephoned me [from Paris] at three o’clock to say that we must get a gesture of moral support at any cost. She told me they were thinking of leaving Paris. I suppose she means the government. She said that they did not want this to be regarded as a surrender, but as the continuation of resistance to the end.
Meanwhile the communiqué is several hours late, which occasions a certain uneasiness. The reason is not known, but it can easily be guessed from this appeal of Eve’s. Undoubtedly it will be announced that the government is leaving. I notified the Times, the Tribune, Dorothy, and Lippmann.
There was no emotion in Eve’s voice. In conclusion she said, “I don’t know where I shall be, but I’ll keep in touch with you.”
The only conclusion is that things are going badly, that they are retreating. How far? Are they going to fight before Paris? Can they hold out further south? Where? How?
June 11, 1940.—Yesterday Mussolini declared war on France and Great Britain. In a rather feeble speech he explained that the time had come for Italy to be true to her promises.
Last night at Charlottesville, Roosevelt finally made a speech which would give us courage if there were still time. He said that America was on the side of the Allies and would give them material support. He also said that Mussolini had stabbed his neighbor in the back.
In short, nothing better could be asked. This speech is almost a declaration of war. It certainly abandons all pretense of neutrality or isolationism. But it: is probably too late for the immediate future.
Leroy-Beaulieu said to me, “Don’t you think that fighting in Paris should be avoided?” I said that, like him, I hoped it wouldn’t be necessary, but if it is necessary, it can’t be helped. I wonder if one can conceive of Paris as destroyed. I cannot contemplate that idea in cold blood. It does not seem to make sense. Suddenly one realizes what this war really is, this war between Germany — where nothing is irreplaceable — and France and England—where almost every town, every village, represents something real in the life of the world. Our weakness lies in the possibility of losing Rheims, Notre Dame, the Sainte Chapelle. The possibility of losing the trees in the Champs Elysées. The entire world does not care a damn about Berlin, hence the strength of Germany.
June 14. — Tom Lamont, Lippmann, Geoffrey Parsons, Finletter, and Lew Douglas, who dined here last night, agree that everything will be different, according as France capitulates or simply confesses that she is crushed. If the government, whatever it may be, capitulates, there is nothing to be hoped for in the future, and they even believe that England will have to give up the struggle. On the contrary, if the government maintains the fiction of French independence (by moving to Africa, for example) we can hope for everything by continuing the struggle.
Jacques T. telephoned, begging me to ask SaintQuentin to go and see F.D.R. I tried, but without success. Saint-Quentin does not see why, on June 14, 1940, he should go to see the President of the United States. The fact is important.
The problem seems to me to be as follows: either France adopts the Belgian solution and that means the end, or she adopts the Dutch solution, and the struggle can go on for ten, twenty, or a hundred years.
June 15. — The news gives the impression that the end is very near. But when I write that, I do not know what it means — the end.
People here say to me: France must not make a separate peace. It may capitulate, give up its arms, but it must not make a separate peace. It cannot do less than Poland, which has remained a belligerent. People are astonished that I can think of the possibility of a separate peace. But I know the French in defeat: the enormous explosion of rancor against their leading classes, their allies, their friends, against the people who write beautiful editorials about Paris, and the people who make lovely speeches.
France entered this war tired, without enthusiasm, without real convictions (except for some “reasonable” people like Reynaud). She will come out of this war even more tired. She will come out of it almost dead. In his speech yesterday, Reynaud spoke of the resurrection of France. But necessary resurrection is much more profound than people think. It implies the disappearance of all members of my generation. We lived in such nostalgia and forlornness. Now our nostalgia will be unlimited. In all the movies and bad magazines of America, people wept over Vienna and its waltzes. They will weep the same way over Paris. Great defeats produce a lot of bad literature.
For some days, especially since yesterday, since the Germans have been in Paris, I have felt shrunk, diminished. Certain stupid readjustments make one suffer so much. For example, ten times a day someone says (or I do myself), “A cable should be sent to Paris,” or “Paris should be told.” Then you have to correct yourself, because Paris is now nothing but the name of a place, as Proust said.
June 18. — Spent yesterday in Washington. Lunched at the Embassy with Saint-Quentin, Truelle, Benech, Lusset, Baubé, and Dumaine, Chambrun, and Leroy-Beaulieu. The telephone rang incessantly.
We know absolutely nothing. Yesterday morning Pétain made a speech on the radio, saying that we must cease fire and that negotiations with the enemy had begun. Later a cable from Beaudoin arrived, saying the conditions were intolerable, that France will continue to fight.
Leroy-Beaulieu announced to us that the Treasury has blocked French credits in America to prevent the Germans from getting their hands on them. Saint-Quentin went to see Sumner Welles this afternoon. The latter told him that American opinion would look unfavorably on a separate French peace. Sumner Welles is acting under British pressure. Saint-Quentin saw Lothian, who was vague and rather contemptuous as usual.
At the Embassy, where I spent the afternoon, Truelle’s office is pandemonium. Everything is discussed at the same time in an atmosphere of incredible confusion. I suggested sending a cable authorizing Havas in New York to become a center for the distribution of news, should necessity arise. SaintQuentin accepted the cable.
The Embassy staff in general is incapable of taking into account the realities of the situation. They have a tendency to act as punctual officials, without realizing that they are cut off, perhaps forever, from France. And they have no money.
France has fallen from the height of ten centuries of history in thirty-eight days. The fact is inescapable, but it is so enormous that nobody can understand it. The reaction of some people is dejection, insomnia; of others, unjustified bursts of hope. Still others undergo a kind of hardening which leaves the mind rather free, the emotions dead. People refuse really to think of what they know to be true. One cannot overcome a kind of physical gratitude because fate has so willed it that one is here, out of danger, with a bed, food, and practical safety — not on some French road amidst suffering, blood, and tears.
There is imagination, but imagination makes no noise; it does not shout or cry. Imagination is a thing that can be stopped. One can think of something else. Coming back on the night plane from Washington, I said to myself: I am all right, the night is beautiful, the engines are throbbing quietly, everything is peaceful.
Today the chaos continues. There is still fighting in France. Hitler and Mussolini have met in Munich — symbolically — to decide on the terms to be presented to France. We do not know what they are. Pétain (84 years of age) has used Franco and the Pope as intermediaries. Already France is in the hands of the Fascists. It is dreadful to think how politicians and traitors like Laval and Bonnet have exploited this decrepit national hero. Let him do the dirty work. If he succeeds, the politicians will join in the sport.
It is impossible to imagine the state of mind of France. It must be one of despair and fury against everyone. Fury against the leaders and fury against allies and friends; fury against the English and the Americans. All this encouraged by German propaganda, which wants to isolate us, the better to destroy us.
General de Gaulle (a Reynaud man) is in London, whence he has made an appeal to the French to join him in order to continue the fight. His appeal contains an implicit attack on the generals who remained in Bordeaux.
Some French people here are beginning to say: we are soon going to return to France. Incredible folly. Poor people or sad people. They believe that France will always be the same, that the Germans will depart, leaving them to resume their humble life very quietly and nicely. They see themselves reinstalled “after the war” in their homes, with their little jobs, their pensions, surrounded by their families, happy, still French, as if nothing had happened, as if everything were not at an end.
June 19.—It appears that Pétain has named the plenipotentiaries who are to meet the Germans and sign the armistice.
Thus this great crime is consummated: the betrayal of England by France. All the explanations, all the rancor, and all the suffering of these recent weeks will not be sufficient to disguise this overpowering fact. Having betrayed Czechoslovakia, France betrays England. That a country and its leaders could fall so low is incomprehensible — or rather, too natural. It was doubtless necessary for France to undergo this humiliation in order to understand that one cannot pretend to defend the right, honor, and other noble ideas, while lying to everyone and lying to oneself.
(To be continued)