504 



THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE 



Prefet of the Department of Meurthe 

 and Moselle, and an hour later M. Mir- 

 man called — a splendid man, bearded and 

 in unform. All town officials wear uni- 

 form in the military zone. At the be- 

 ginning of the war M. Mirman was 

 Minister of Public Health in Paris. Be- 

 ing past military age, he volunteered for 

 any service, and was sent to Nancy, then 

 in great peril. He was the first to reach 

 the murdered villages in the foothills of 

 the Vosges, where he buried the dead and 

 comforted and sustained the frantic sur- 

 vivors. On his breast is the decoration 

 which France gives to her bravest. 



NANCY WORKS ON IN SPITE OF 

 BOMBARDMENTS 



Nancy, he told us, is a little over five 

 miles from the front, and is bombarded 

 by the Boches' most powerful guns, the 

 380 millimeter, which have a twenty-mile 

 range. The shells come mainly at night, 

 when there can be no warning. In day- 

 light French aeroplanes hover guard over 

 the city to watch for the distant white 

 cloud which heralds the oncoming shell. 

 The tocsin sounds the alarm and the 100, 

 000 inhabitants scurry to the cellars. On 

 every house with a cellar a great cross is 

 painted, the double cross of ancient Lor- 

 raine. 



Few people have left town. Trams 

 are running ; shops are open. Nancy has 

 her work to do and keeps at it doggedly. 

 Also, she houses and feeds 3,000 ref- 

 ugees, mostly old women and little chil- 

 dren, who have crept over the fields in 

 terror from their cannonaded homes still 

 nearer the German line. The number in- 

 creases. 



"Tomorrow Madame Mirman will take 

 you to see the refugees," the Prefet told 

 us, "and we hope you will dine at the 

 prefecture in the evening." 



In pitch darkness we two, strangers to 

 the 380's, groped our way across the 

 Place and felt for the door of the restau- 

 rant. AYe entered a well-lighted room, 

 all warmth and cheer. The windows 

 were heavily curtained that no gleam of 

 light might be detected by prowling 

 enemy air-craft. Many officers were 

 dining ; the food was excellent, the prices 

 reasonable. This condition I found 



throughout France, the marvel of every 

 American who has been over during the 

 war. A tall, straight man, with iron-gray 

 mustache, rose to leave the room; all the 

 others stood up and saluted. 



At midnight I opened my window and 

 peered into inky gloom. The air was 

 heavy with danger ; the arc of a search- 

 light pierced the sky, for an instant illu- 

 minating the shrouded scaffolding pro- 

 tecting a statue in the center of the Place, 

 that of Duke Stanislas Leczyski, father- 

 in-law of Louis XV. . . . Not a foot- 

 step on the street below. I heard a dis- 

 tant cannon boom. 



Next morning we went for a walk. 

 Few cities in Europe are as architectur- 

 ally beautiful as this ancient capital of 

 the Duchy of Lorraine, the Land of 

 Lothair, named after a grandson of 

 Charlemagne, united with France in 1766. 

 Each of a hundred gates and facades is 

 worthy a pilgrimage to Nancy. In the 

 cathedral many women in black were 

 praying before lighted candles. The 

 stained glass windows were broken and 

 mended with paper. Three houses across 

 the street were in ruins. Yet the park 

 near-by was the picture of peace. Shafts 

 of sunlight slanted through the chestnut 

 trees and a black-robed priest sat on a 

 bench in the shadow telling his beads. 



AMONG THE REFUGEES FROM HUN- 

 DESTROYED VILEAGES 



We went to the narrow old chapel 

 where 84 Dukes of Lorraine are buried. 

 It was closed, but we rang a bell and a 

 woman in black let us in. There is a fine 

 Rubens over the altar. The tombs are 

 protected by sandbags. The glass of 

 windows and dome is shattered and any 

 moment the maniacal Hun may send a 

 shell to demolish the whole. On a marble 

 slab near the altar we read : 



"Here Marie Therese Charlotte of 

 Austria, September 11, 1628, came to 



"Here Francois II said, 'By blood in 

 heart I belong to Lorraine.' 



"Here Marie Antoinette, May 17,1770,. 

 came on her way to Paris to marry Louis 

 XYI and knelt at this altar." 



The shrine of Austrian royalty ! Here 

 Elizabeth, wife of the late Emperor 



