by Lisa Chaney
“I’m doing my work.”
“And what is the nature of your work now?” Tatiana demanded.
“Same as it’s been for decades,” von Dincklage cheerfully responded, “I’m in army intelligence.”
Tatiana told him he was “a real bastard! . . . You posed as a down and out journalist, you won all our sympathy, you seduced my best friend [Hélène Dessoffy], and now you tell me you were spying on us all the time!”31
It transpired that von Dincklage knew everything about Tatiana’s recent movements and warned her not to stay long in Paris. He asked her to deliver a message to Conte Dessoffy, his lover Hélène’s husband. Hélène’s letters to von Dincklage had been intercepted by French intelligence, and she was now in prison. If her husband could get word to her, telling her to say that she knowingly collaborated with von Dincklage, he could get her out of prison. Tatiana did get the message to her friend, but Hélène Dessoffy refused to perjure herself. After the war, she was acquitted of the charge of collaboration.32 During this period, Gabrielle herself was to have her own (modest) experience of a collaboration charge.
One day, in the summer of 1942, the Ritz was suddenly “alive with German soldiers” deployed outside the entrance; inside, they had been ordered to search every room. Early that morning, two Resistance fighters had appeared and kidnapped Gabrielle from her suite. According to the management, their entry was a mystery (in fact, the manager’s wife was a Resistance sympathizer), and Gabrielle, who had been blindfolded, had no idea where she was taken. Three hours later, having been questioned about her relationship with Lifar and von Dincklage, she had been brought back to her room. The Resis-tants had told her that collaborators could face disfigurement or death, and instructed her to change her ways: “You are a French woman, and an important one. You are good for France, and France has been good to you.”33
Von Dincklage was furious at Gabrielle’s treatment and, with General Carl-Heinrich von Stülpnagel, demanded an explanation from the Ritz director. He said he could give none.
Meanwhile, a woman who worked in the Chanel boutique, and who had met von Dincklage on a number of occasions, recalled that she had never seen him in a uniform. Perhaps in Tatiana du Plessix’s anger she misremembered von Dincklage’s outfit. If, however, he did wear a uniform, he took care never to do so when he visited Gabrielle at her apartment on rue Cambon. The couple also spent time together outside Paris. Holidaying in Switzerland more than once, they traveled through to the occupied zone to stay at La Pausa. In the autumn of 1942, the architect Robert Streitz, a member of an important Resistance network, asked von Dincklage to intercede on behalf of a Jewish physicist, arrested by the Gestapo. Apparently, von Dincklage tried to help, but someone else would be more successful in bringing about the physicist’s release.34
Contrary to the impression that Gabrielle had nothing to do with any Germans except von Dincklage, the son of her previous lover Antoinette d’Harcourt remembers going several times to rue Cambon with his mother for entertainments given by Gabrielle. At these gatherings, there were a number of German officers present: “I don’t know exactly what their ranks were but they were very senior officers. Most people spoke in French, not German, but they had a German accent.”35 It appears that on these occasions, Antoinette d’Harcourt was intent on gathering information for a nationalist organization, the Synarchist Empire Movement (Mouvement Synarchique d’Empire), a secret right-wing anticommunist movement, launched in 1922.
In the following spring, 1943, we find that von Dincklage made the extraordinary offer—as a secret police document put it—of the “services of Coco Chanel (lesbian), from the famous perfume house” in order to exploit her Anglo-Saxon relations in aid of German intelligence services.36
We will almost certainly never know to what extent Gabrielle was aware of von Dincklage’s activities. In having an affair with a German, she had made all sorts of accommodations. And if, like her friends, she turned a blind eye to much that went on, it is most likely that Gabrielle conducted her liaison with her German in much the same way Arletty conducted hers. Hers was a collaboration of chosen “ignorance.”
Most important, one should bear in mind Gabrielle’s primary motivation during the war: like Colette—and millions of others in France—she was determined to survive. Whatever our thoughts about this, it does not follow that Gabrielle was prepared to spy for the Germans. Did von Dincklage ask her outright? One suspects that he knew she would have refused and, with his accustomed deviousness, was offering her services to his superior without her knowledge. (While in no way proof of her innocence, Gabrielle was always strongly pro-British and had wept when Germany occupied France.)
When she and von Dincklage returned from La Pausa at the end of that summer, 1943, the Maquis (the rural French Resistance) sent word that von Dincklage was now on their death list. Busily consorting with the enemy, the dancer Serge Lifar was also back on the Resistance list. At this point he and von Dincklage secretly moved into the Ritz, where they now lived intermittently with Gabrielle. Although, in the liberal view of Ritz personnel, it was hardly worth more than passing notice that Coco Chanel was living with two men, what gave added spice was that both her men were known to be actively pro-German. The wife of the manager said that Gabrielle. . . never appeared anywhere in the hotel with either of them. Nobody gave a damn, but she really worked hard to keep them secret. I knew about them because I had a direct pipeline through the floor maid. She kept me up to the minute. She was envious, not because the Madame was a great couturier—that didn’t mean a thing to her—but living with two impressive guys was her idea of paradise. What luxury!37
In early 1944, Antoinette d’Harcourt was arrested by the Gestapo. She had begun the war as an ambulance driver on the battlefields, but then used the ambulance to ferry people to the border between France and Switzerland, for example. Her son, Jean, says: “After a year she was “burned,” so she had to stop—those activities are probably the reason why she was arrested.”38 The young duchess was treated harshly and placed in solitary confinement for six months in the notorious Fresnes prison, then moved to another one, Romain-ville, also outside Paris. From there she narrowly avoided deportation to Buchenwald concentration camp.
Arletty’s biographer describes Synarchy’s (or Synarchism’s) work as “fairly pro-Mussolini . . . [it] had as members some of the most powerful figures in the French establishment intent on maintaining national French unity.”39 Preferring, as Jean d’Harcourt says, the idea of “revolution by the elite rather than revolution from the street . . . Synarchy’s aim was to serve as a link between Pétain and Laval on the one side, and on the other, de Gaulle and Massigly [one of de Gaulle’s senior diplomats] and therefore avoid a bloodbath” when France was liberated.40
When Antoinette’s son, Jean, then only a boy, was permitted to visit his mother, they were both so overcome that for the permitted fifteen-minute visit, they could do no more than remain clasped in each other’s arms. Jean d’Harcourt recalled how “after the war, my mother refused to speak with Chanel and never set foot in her shop again.”41 Before the war, the duchess had been dressed by Gabrielle. Jean also said:My mother greatly admired Arletty. She considered that her affair with the German was just a sentimental matter . . . There was never a betrayal on her part . . . My mother was faithful in her friendships. The only person with whom she broke up because of the war was Chanel, who played a double or triple game.42
While one appreciates Antoinette d’Harcourt’s suspicions about Gabrielle, unfortunately proof will almost certainly never be possible—especially as Antoinette d’Harcourt’s papers were all burned in a fire.
In 1943, Gabrielle was to take part in a bizarre episode. Possibly at von Dincklage’s suggestion, she apparently decided she should help negotiate a peace settlement. Gabrielle was by no means alone in believing that this would be the speediest end to the war. (Her friendship with men of standing, such as Westminster and Churchill, may have encouraged her.)
Her first step was to summon Captain Momm to the rue Cambon to lay out her plan. Momm, we remember, was von Dincklage’s friend and the person who had interceded on André Palasse’s behalf to get him out of prison.
Gabrielle’s plan had her act as messenger to initiate peace talks between Churchill and the German High Command. Churchill was due to visit Madrid after the Tehran Conference, and Gabrielle said that he had agreed to see her on his way back. At first stupefied, Theodor Momm was eventually won over and took her “peace proposal” to Berlin. With Momm as her emissary, Gabrielle’s scheme was at first brushed aside. But then the new director of German foreign intelligence, the ambitious young colonel Walter Schellenberg, became interested. Risking execution if discovered, he was himself looking for a way to negotiate with the Allies, and agreed, naming Gabrielle’s mission Operation Modelhut (model hat). Even more extraordinary than that, in early 1944, Gabrielle apparently visited Berlin to meet Walter Schellenberg, with von Dincklage as her escort. (Our one piece of evidence for this is Schellenberg’s testimony in his subsequent trial.)43
Schellenberg decided Gabrielle should travel to Madrid to set up her meeting with Churchill via Sir Samuel Hoare, the British ambassador. As her safety net with the British, however, Gabrielle wanted the Germans to bring along Vera Bate-Lombardi—from internment in Italy—an acquaintance of Winston Churchill’s. At this point, the two women’s stories diverge. Vera afterward claimed that Gabrielle sent a German officer to Italy with a letter asking her to return to Paris and help Gabrielle reopen Chanel.44 Having refused, Vera was subsequently arrested as a British spy. (Vera believed Gabrielle had caused this.) According to Gabrielle, she waded in on Vera’s behalf and got her out of a Roman prison.
Vera next came to Paris, and later said that instead of reopening her salon there, Gabrielle told her that it was in Madrid she wanted help with a salon. Vera went along with this, although, as it turned out, neither she nor Gabrielle trusted each other. When they arrived in Spain, Gabrielle apparently went to see the British ambassador to present him with her plan. He informed her that Churchill was not now visiting Spain; he was unwell and returning to England via Cairo and Tunisia. (It is highly unlikely that Churchill had ever agreed to meet Gabrielle in these times.) Meanwhile, in Gabrielle’s discussion with the ambassador, she omitted telling him that Vera was also in Madrid. This was a mistake because Vera, meanwhile, had arrived at the embassy and was in another room denouncing Gabrielle as a German agent.45
Vera’s request to be returned to Italy was refused, and she duly wrote to Churchill. Telling him she wasn’t a spy but a loyal British subject, she begged for his assistance. Gabrielle also wrote to Churchill, explaining that she had been “obliged to address someone rather important to get her [Vera] freed and be allowed to bring her down here [Madrid] with me.” She went on to tell Churchill that she realized that this had put Vera in a compromising position; her Italian passport had a German visa on it and Gabrielle understood “quite well that it looks a bit suspect.” She suggested that a nod from Churchill would facilitate Vera’s return to Italy, where she wanted to find her husband. Gabrielle signed herself affectionately, and asked about his health and that of his son, Randolph.46
Information on Gabrielle’s bungled mission is somewhat muddled. She appears now to have returned to Paris. But Vera was kept in Madrid, from where she sent various missives to Churchill begging him to help her. The British had, however, already been suspicious of Vera Bate-Lombardi. She had remarried in the twenties; Colonel Lombardi was an Italian, and for some time before the war the couple had been suspected of spying by the French Interior Ministry. As one of their associates, from 1929 Gabrielle had also come under investigation. While much of the information in the final dossier on Gabrielle was ludicrously inaccurate,47 the French suspected the Lombardis of being double agents.48 While another investigation was ordered in 1931, in the end, the French didn’t have enough concrete evidence against the Lombardis, and nothing against Gabrielle.49
The British Foreign Office, Allied Force Headquarters and the prime minister’s office conducted an investigation. After several months, in December 1944, they concluded that while there was no indication that Vera was “sent to Madrid by the German Intelligence Service, it is equally clear that Mme Chanel . . . exaggerated Mme Lombardi’s . . . position in order to give the Germans the impression that if she were allowed to go to Madrid she might be useful to them. Mme Lombardi seems to have had some curious notion of trying to arrange peace terms.” While the prime minister’s office concluded that Vera should be allowed to return to Italy, she was, nonetheless, “by no means anti-Fascist,” had not been “completely cleared of all suspicion,” and was “still under a cloud.”50 Whatever the lost details of this murky episode actually were, and whether the megalomaniac scheme to be involved in ending the war was really Vera’s or Gabrielle’s, it had come to naught.
While fashionable Paris persevered in its refusal to face the tide of events, there was no longer any pretense by the authorities of Franco-German cultural exchange. Meanwhile, the theaters were full, and Cocteau and Gabrielle set to work on the restaging of his Antigone. Gabrielle also moved herself back to her apartment in the rue Cambon. Was she taking care to separate herself from any connection to the German command?
On the morning of June 6, 1944, D-day, the Americans, the Canadians, British and the Free French began the phenomenal Normandy landings. Over a stretch of fifty miles of beaches, this was the launch of the Allied invasion of France. More than 150,000 men were landed in what was to be the most complex and largest amphibious invasion ever undertaken. Brigadier Simon Fraser, Lord Lovat, the son of Arthur Capel’s sister-in-law, Laura—in other words, Arthur’s nephew—was among those on the Normandy beaches. In defiance of recent orders not to permit such foolhardy action in battle, Lord Lovat, wearing the kilt his father had donned in the First World War, famously ordered his personal piper, young Bill Millin, to pipe the men ashore. Lovat then led his commando brigade in what became one of the most iconic images of these famed landings. The Germans later said the only reason they hadn’t shot Billy was because they thought he was mad. This piece of bravado would have appealed to Arthur Capel.
While Parisians anticipated the arrival of their liberators, a fierce battle was taking place in Normandy. But in Vichy, as Pétain proclaimed that “the battle which is taking place on our soil does not concern us,” the Allies moved slowly toward Paris, fighting all the way. By June 26, de Gaulle had landed and proclaimed a new government, and by early July, the Americans were on the outskirts of Chartres, fifty-six miles southwest of Paris. With de Gaulle’s master plan, the notoriously divided Resistance agreed that there was no question: Paris must be seen to liberate itself.
Yet while German troops had begun a sporadic retreat, they had also continued arresting and deporting people to the camps, and the swastika still flew over the senate in the Luxembourg Gardens. Within a day or so, the major institutions were in the hands of the liberators, but a week later there were still some Germans in Paris.
As von Dincklage left with his compatriots in retreat, apparently he asked Gabrielle to come with him. He told her they could quietly slip away to neutral Switzerland, but Gabrielle refused. She was defiant, and would face whatever happened. By August 17, the most senior collaborators were being evacuated by the German army: more than twenty thousand French militia and fascists fought their way onto the retreating trains and trucks. At intervals, these were bombed by the Allies and sabotaged by the Free French, who were staging an uprising against the Germans in Paris. The Resistance and de Gaulle were determined that it would be the French who liberated their own capital, and not the advancing Allies. Serge Lifar heard that he was to be evacuated with the Germans, and sought refuge with Gabrielle in the rue Cambon. With the remnants of the Vichy government, Pétain, who claimed he was a prisoner, was taken by the Germans to the Hohenzollern castle of Sig-maringen, near Stuttgart. Paul Morand was already there.
Gabrielle and Lifar saw the last German tank roll away down the rue de Rivoli, heard the last street fighting between the Germans and the Free French, and saw firefighters hoist the first French flags up over the Théâtre de l’Opéra. The supreme allied commander in Europe, General Eisenhower, hadn’t regarded Paris as a primary objective. The German forces were retreating toward the Rhine; the aim was to reach Berlin before the Red Army, and there put an end to the conflict. And while Eisenhower had thought it was premature for any battle for Paris, de Gaulle would now force his hand. In de Gaulle’s determination to be seen to “free” Paris, he threatened the Allies that he would order the French 2nd Armored Division into the capital.
As the seat of government, Paris was the prize sought by the numerous Resistance factions, and despite a large anti-Gaullist Resistance wing, expelling the Germans united them. To this day, opinion is divided over the military governor General Dietrich von Choltitz’s claim that he was “the savior of Paris.” Despite repeated orders from Hitler that the city “must not fall into the enemy’s hand except lying in complete ruins,” von Choltitz disobeyed, and on August 25, he surrendered at the Meurice hotel, the newly established headquarters of the Free French.51 On the following day, when de Gaulle marched his troops through the place de la Concorde to the Arc de Triomphe, and half of Paris turned out to welcome them, José Maria Sert gave a party for fifty to watch the triumphant parade from his balcony. Gabrielle, Lifar and Etienne de Beaumont were there, alongside many of their fellow “collaborator” friends. As de Gaulle was getting into his car, a shower of sniper’s bullets shattered Sert’s windows, and his guests leaped for cover under tables and behind doors. When they finally dared to emerge, they hear Sert apologizing for the “inconvenience.” As a typical mark of his bravura, he had remained on the balcony.