SHORTLY BEFORE NOON, OTTO ABETZ visited Édouard Herriot at the Hôtel de Ville to inform him that Germany’s decision to prevent Laval from forming a transitional government was final. Abetz then offered Herriot and his wife the choice between internment in Germany or exile in Switzerland.
“I love Switzerland, the country of freedom,” Herriot said indignantly to Abetz. “But I cannot go there due to lack of money. I am poor and I will go with the poor to Germany. Furthermore, if I go to Switzerland I would owe you something, and I don’t want to owe you anything. I have been made and will remain your prisoner. But I promise you that you will be cursed by all peoples as a nation without honour that does not keep its word.”23
Before lunch at the Matignon, Abetz told Laval that he and his ministers would be taken to Belfort in eastern France. Then, with their wives and Count and Countess de Chambrun, they entered the Matignon’s dining room for an excellent lunch served by liveried servants.24
Rain gave way to brilliant sunshine, and the dining room’s windows were open, looking across the beautiful garden. As they ate, Herriot reminisced about his appeasement efforts before the war, using the previous few days’ experience to illustrate how pointless appeasement was. He also declared his intention to dissociate himself from both Laval and Vichy, and insisted upon returning to Maréville separately.25
Madame Laval normally stood back from her husband’s business, but given the finality of these moments, she addressed Abetz. “Mr. Ambassador, this departure, under these conditions, is an outrage. See for yourself the painful situation it puts us all in.”
“Please listen to her, Mr. Ambassador, listen; this is France talking to you,” Herriot said morosely, after knocking back wine.
“These two men, of course, have not always been in agreement in the past,” continued Madame Laval. “That was politics. France was happy then. But in the face of a great danger, now they come together. You can not condone an action that would make it appear as if my husband had instigated unscrupulous tactics resulting in Monsieur Herriot being forced to undergo the same fate as ours under duress.”
Countess de Chambrun observed Abetz’s expression, almost dying of shame, then offering to make things as comfortable as possible for the Frenchmen. Briefly the talk turned to lightweight anecdotes about the Duke of Windsor and Anthony Eden, but not for long.26
Herriot started on Laval. “For you, Laval, it’s different. You will be able to explain. But, shake Pétain’s hand? Never! He is the enemy of the Republic. I have no more confidence in him than in de Gaulle. They are ambitious. I wanted them kept apart from one another, that was why I came to Paris. They brought me by force. I can’t do anything here other than submit.”
Outside, unknown to the diners, SS troops had surrounded the Matignon. As the awkward luncheon ended, Laval and Herriot morosely congratulated themselves for having tried.
THAT PARIS SHOULD SURVIVE UNDAMAGED was Pierre Taittinger’s most abiding concern as he presented himself at the Hôtel Meurice about the same time that Laval ate his final lunch at the Matignon. Although presumably, like most traditional German officers, General von Choltitz was well educated, Taittinger had with him the Hôtel de Ville interpreter, Madame Fontenille, to ensure he was understood.
Taittinger was sad to see the Meurice’s foyer looking so shabby compared to the 1930s when he entertained the Spanish Ambassador there. Feeling as though he had the fate of Paris on his shoulders, visibly nervous, Taittinger entered von Choltitz’s office. Von Choltitz sat in the centre of what would previously have been an important first floor bedroom, behind a large, flat-topped, ormolu-mounted bureau. On his right sat Doktor Eckelmann, while on his left stood various other officers, including Major von Gunther, whom Taittinger already knew. The windows were open to the balcony and a view of the Tuileries gardens on the far side of the Rue de Rivoli.
Von Choltitz began by reiterating to Taittinger in a carefully modulated tone the uncompromising content of the announcement that appeared in the press that morning, “… obliged to respect the Wehrmacht which controls Paris,” came the general’s words, now in Madame Fontenille’s French. “I have to tell you that I have decided to apply collective sanctions [which implied the shooting of hostages] for any acts committed against the representatives of the German Army.”
Von Choltitz then asked an ADC to lay an enormous multi-panelled, broadsheet map over the bureau.
“If there are shootings,” explained von Choltitz. “The reaction will be immediate in coming. My position is clear. Look, come and see for yourself. Imagine there’s a shot at one of my soldiers from a building, situated for example on the uneven numbered side of the Rue de l’Opéra, between the Rue Gomboust and the Rue des Pyramides. I would burn down all these buildings and shoot everyone who lives there.” The general glared at Taittinger as his fingers drummed purposefully on the map. “I have available to me twenty-two thousand troops, of which some are Waffen SS, a hundred heavy tanks and ninety pieces of artillery.”
As Madame Fontenille finished repeating back von Choltitz’s words, Taittinger, chilled to his spine, was trying not to choke. Von Choltitz’s staff stood utterly motionless. For a moment there was silence, broken only when von Choltitz rescrewed his monocle into his eye socket and retook his chair.
“If it should happen that there are more serious actions than an isolated sniper shot,” elaborated von Choltitz, toying with a pencil, “I will enlarge the punishment zone. In the event of an uprising or a riot, I will call in the Luftwaffe and suppress the area with incendiary bombs. You see, it’s simple.”
As Taittinger’s face whitened, von Choltitz rose from his bureau again and took a few steps towards him.
“You are the representative of this capital city,” said von Choltitz, looking into Taittinger’s moistening eyes. “You have the authority. Use it. If the population won’t move, I won’t move them and we will both see how things turn out without too much misery.” Von Choltitz turned to the map and made a crayon line along the bank of the Seine. “You are an officer, Monsieur Taittinger, and you can not be insensible to the security measures that I have to take regarding the troops I am responsible for. I am speaking to you as a soldier, do you understand?” Then muttering, “The bridges, the power stations, the railways …”
After the blasé way von Choltitz handled the sapper officer sent to blow the Seine bridges, it may be that he was testing Taittinger’s reaction. But from Taittinger’s viewpoint, von Choltitz seemed to have already decided what he was going to do. “And, what then?” thought Taittinger, his imagination racing. With whole blocks wrecked, there would be broken water mains. Communications would break down even more than they had already. Parisians would not just be hungry but starving. They would try to drink any water they could find, which would then set off a cholera outbreak. And all this would happen just as the war in France was coming to an end. How could Germany gain from such a thing? What on earth was the point?
“In the matter of food supplies,” said von Choltitz, “I can make things easier for you. I will help you, as has Doktor Eckelmann already on several occasions, busying ourselves with your transport problems and lending you, if it helps, some Wehrmacht lorries.”
Taittinger felt the interview drawing to a close and his chance to plead for Paris slipping away. If he spoke frankly to the German, might he make things worse? Or could he make a difference? Clearing his throat, he was determined to have his say.
“We have at the present time,” began Taittinger, “in the Paris region, half a million nervous and worried people. That’s three hundred and fifty thousand in the districts and a hundred and fifty thousand in the city itself, who are waiting for nothing else but an uprising. If a fire breaks out somewhere in Paris, or there is gunfire, does it therefore follow automatically that the German Army will inflict a ‘Paris Vespers’, to rival the Sicilian Vespers in the history books? It’s possible, General, even certain. And every German soldier would be marked down and killed
as soon as the opportunity presented itself to a revolutionary or patriot, of which this city has plenty. Do you really want to run such an enormous risk, which could so easily become inevitable?”
This time it was von Choltitz who looked uncomfortable as Taittinger painted a tableau of what happened during the Paris Commune, including the final bloody showdown among the tombstones of Père Lachaise. “So,” continued Taittinger, “in the purely military sense, if it turned out that there was a furious street fight in the capital, a real struggle between two bodies of men, then one could only persevere in the way that you suggest. If, on the other hand, one wanted to avoid such extreme situations, prevent needless killings and criminal destruction, then one should retain one’s calm and sang-froid, and that goes for your side as well as ours.”
Taittinger claims to have told von Choltitz at this stage that Parisians were valuable as historic witnesses. “My country,” he continued, “due to the fact of this war and occupation, has suffered a lot, in its spirit and in its heart. If you want a flood of hate to worsen the river of tears and blood that already separates our two countries, go ahead. On the other hand, if you wish to prepare for better times, allow Paris to remember the better man inside you.”
Von Choltitz’s expression became less dour as Taittinger reminded him of the thousands of children, elderly and refugees in Paris, before expressing his love of beautiful architecture irrespective of nationality. “For my part,” said Taittinger, “I felt it deeply that Westminster Cathedral27 was savagely bombarded, and I deplored that Cologne Cathedral should have been engulfed by flames. Paris is one of those rare great cities in Europe that remains intact. You should help save it.”
Von Choltitz approached the balcony and surveyed the summer afternoon scene of young families enjoying the Tuileries gardens. “I like the view from this window, watching the world go by.”
At this point in his memoirs Taittinger remarks on the mystery of the German character, on the one hand intelligent and romantic, yet also the incarnation of barbarism, destroying without mercy. Suddenly von Choltitz asked a surprise question.
“How would you get on with General de Gaulle? What would he do with you?”
To this Taittinger says he replied that saving Paris was his sole aim, and for that purpose he needed General von Choltitz more than General de Gaulle.
“Well, the Allies,” said von Choltitz, “are prepared to keep existing authorities in place, but only where there aren’t any ‘Free French’. That lot fully intend to take their places as soon as possible.”
Next von Choltitz asked Taittinger for his thoughts on Amedée Bussière and the striking Paris police.
“I expect that the Gardiens de la Paix are hampered by the means left at their disposal, and that Amedée Bussière, like a good Frenchman, is doing what he can to prevent the worst,” Taittinger assured von Choltitz.
Taittinger explained the difficulties of keeping Paris fed during the Occupation, emphasising that small children needed milk every day, piling on emotive issues in the expectation that his words, helped by the view of the Tuileries gardens, would soften von Choltitz.
“You see,” said Taittinger, giving the speech of his life, translated in phrases by Madame Fontenille, “generals are rarely given the power to build, so much more often it is to destroy. Supposing you had, just once at the tip of your fingers, the power of God allowing you to preserve and protect—or to destroy—all of this. Imagine that one day, because I reckon the dice are already thrown, and the war is ending anyway, you came back to the Hôtel Meurice as a tourist, and that you came once again to this balcony. You look out at Perraud’s colonade on the left, with our magnificent Louvre Palace; on the right the Palais de Gabriel and our Place de la Concorde and between these monuments so many houses full of history. See above all their witness to our joys, our sufferings and our anger, and your power to be able to say, ‘It was me, General von Choltitz who could have, for one day, destroyed all this, but I protected it as a gift to humanity.’ There, General, isn’t that worth the glory of a conqueror? To preserve what centuries of civilisation and art have built, isn’t that more, isn’t that nobility?”
Seeing von Choltitz becoming quite emotional as he listened to Madame Fontenille’s German translation of his words, Taittinger believed he was gaining ground.
“There is one thing that is of utmost importance to me,” replied von Choltitz. “That is what happens, regardless of attacks, to five places that I have to hold militarily—my command post at the Hôtel Meurice, the Avenue Foch, the Place de l’Opéra, the Palais du Luxembourg and the barracks in the Place de la République. Otherwise I am prepared to shut my eyes to individual acts, I say individual and I will rely on the good sense of the Parisian population.”
Taittinger realised that he had won an enormous concession. However, this was not enough. Even limited damage could trigger problems with food distribution; broken drains might cause epidemics. At last von Choltitz agreed that there would be no destruction or shooting of hostages, and he ratified these undertakings through his staff. He was prepared to shut his eyes to the settling of accounts among the French but the five places held by his troops were off limits.
Finally Taittinger pleaded that von Choltitz avoid violence, saying that it was entirely in his hands, which was not true.
“Sehr schön,” replied von Choltitz. Returning behind his desk, he removed his monocle and briefly closed his eyes. After a short silence that seemed to last a century, he said, “You are a good ambassador for Paris, Monsieur Taittinger. You do your duty very well. I do my duty as a German general. In those areas where I am able, I will respond to your appeal where it concerns the historic fabric of Paris and the hostages. We will arrange to live with each other as well as we can for the last few days that we are together. We are going to evacuate Paris anyway. In a few days there will only be three or four thousand men remaining in place until the arrival of the Allies.”
Taittinger sensed victory. Von Choltitz smiled sadly. Catching sight of a clock, Taittinger realised that they had been speaking for two whole hours. An hour later von Choltitz’s undertakings were backed by written confirmation. He had won. How was it, he wondered, that this German general could feel compassion for Paris while so many other cities, towns and villages across Europe were obliterated? Had it only been his own eloquence? Or had the charm of Paris weaved its magic? Taittinger left the Hôtel Meurice radiant with joy. Looking at his fellow Parisians, he wondered if they knew what he had just done for them. And von Choltitz—had he done it for them or for his own soul? He feared for von Choltitz’s family. Later that evening the German Ambassador, Otto Abetz, telephoned Taittinger to confirm General von Choltitz’s decision.28
AFTER LAVAL’S LUNCH GUESTS LEFT THE MATIGNON, his family thronged around him. Madame Laval promised to accompany him to Belfort, though obviously this was just a stop on the way to Germany. His daughter, Josée de Chambrun, offered to accompany them, along with her husband, but one of Laval’s withering looks squelched this idea. “Alors,” she said. “I’ll stay in Paris.”
Countess Clara de Chambrun, who visited despite the SS cordon, thought Madame Laval seemed remarkably self-possessed in the circumstances. They knew there would be Resistance retribution when the opportunity arose; yet Madame Laval still dreamt of fleeing to la France Profonde to live a simple peasant life unrecognised by anyone. Instinctively the older countess knew she would never see Laval again.29
After emptying his bureau by candlelight, Laval took his last bath in the superb marble tub. Then he dressed in his usual white shirt and white tie to receive the farewells of those Vichy minsters still in Paris: Bichelonne, Bonnard and Gabolde. At 9pm, Abetz returned to confirm that his government insisted that all of Laval’s cabinet depart for Belfort, under force if necessary.30
Finally Laval left orders for René Bouffet and Amedée Bussière to keep Paris in good order ready to receive the Allies. When Pierre Taittinger arrived at 10pm, Laval asked hi
m to withdraw the guards and liberate any political prisoners held in prisons under French authority: the Santé, La Roquette and Les Tournelles. Bussière immediately put a call through to Hennequin. In the courtyard outside Abetz muttered defiantly to Taittinger, “Don’t rejoice too soon or too quickly. In three months we’ll be back in Paris. It’s impossible for us to lose this war. We’ve discovered unbeatable weapons, understand; unbeatable. The Führer hesitates to use them in case it’s the beginning of the end of the world.”31
Shortly afterwards, with SS watching, cane in hand, Laval walked down the steps of the Matignon saying his adieux to those who had served him. Turning to Lieutenant Henri Chevalier, commanding the Groupe Spécial de Protection, who had Resistance connections, Laval said quietly, “You are free. I know what you’re going to do and I envy you.” After seating himself in the black ministerial Hotchkiss, Laval saw Josée breaking down. Suddenly Laval was out of the car. “Toi, encore une fois,” he said, embracing his daughter one last time before returning to the Hotchkiss. The SS opened the high, arched gates and Laval departed into darkness and the road eastwards.32
Back at the Hôtel de Ville, as Herriot prepared for his journey, Count de Chambrun arrived bringing books and cigars. Then, with René Bouffet’s agreement, Chambrun offered to put Édouard and Madame Herriot in touch with the Army Resistance Organisation so that they could escape via the Hôtel de Ville’s subterranean passages to an apartment owned by American friends of his. Knowing that dignified suffering was more his style, Herriot told Chambrun, “I must follow my fate.” That evening the Germans returned him to Maréville.33
SEEING THE GERMANS BEGINNING TO LEAVE gave new impetus to résistants planning insurrection. Laval’s final acts of political chicanery merely aroused their contempt, and seeing widespread strikes bring Paris to her knees with public workers gathering on the Place Hôtel de la Ville screaming “Bread!” and singing the Marseillaise, they saw their opportunities ripening. In such an atmosphere rebellious incidents proliferated; a Tricolore appeared over the mairie at Saint-Mandé, while, on the corner of the Rue Saint-Denis and the Rue de la Lune, a café was set alight along with a disused tyre shop.34
Paris '44: The City of Light Redeemed Page 25