XI
All at once it was rumoured that there had been fighting near Wissembourg, and that same evening the inhabitants of Neu Willer, fleeing with their furniture piled on carts to Lutzelstein, told us at the very door of the house, without daring to come in, that several of our battalions had been slaughtered; that the general of the vanguard had been left on the field; that Wissembourg was in flames, and that our troops were retiring towards Bitche.
These people seemed bewildered with terror; instead of continuing on their way to Petite Pierre, the idea struck them all at once that it was not strongly enough fortified, and in spite of the circuit of three leagues that they had just made, the whole band, men and women, began to climb the Falberg hill to fly to Strasbourg.
Then desolation reigned among us. Merlin and his mother came to our house to talk over the bad news. The grandmother lamented. As for me, I said there was no need to be cast down about it, that the Germans would never dare to risk themselves in our forests; that they did not know the roads, and other reasons like that, which did not prevent me from being very uneasy myself, for all that Captain Rondeau had said to us one year before came back to me; the wood-cutters that he had caused to be arrested at Lutzelstein rose before my eyes; and then I was humiliated to think that the soldiers of Baden and Bavaria had beaten the French at their first encounter. I knew that they were ten to one, but that did not lessen my grief.
It was our first bad night. I could not sleep, and I heard Marie-Rose, in her little side room, get up, open the window, and look out.
All outside was as silent as if nothing had happened; not a leaf was stirring, so calm was the air; some crickets were chirping on the ground, which was still warm six hours after sunset, and along the river the frogs were uttering their long, drawn-out cry.
My inward emotion prevented me from sleeping. About four o'clock Ragot began to bark down-stairs; some one was knocking at the door, I dressed myself, and two minutes after, went down to open the door.
A man, the younger Klein-Nickel, of Petite Pierre, brought me an order from Inspector Laroche to come without delay.
Marie-Rose had come down-stairs. I only waited long enough to snatch a morsel, and then I left with my gun slung over my shoulder. By seven o'clock I was at M. Laroche's door, and I went in. The inspector was seated at his desk writing.
"Ah! it is you, Frederick," he said, laying down his pen, "take a seat. We have had some pretty bad news; you know that our little body of men detached for observation has had a misfortune?" "Yes, sir."
"They allowed themselves to be surprised," said he; "but that is nothing; it will not occur again."
He appeared as tranquil as usual, and said that in every war there were ups and downs; that a first unfortunate engagement did not signify anything, but that it was always good to take precautions in view of more serious events impossible to foresee; consequently, that it was necessary to tell all the men of my brigade, and those that we were employing on the forest roads, to be ready to march with their pickaxes, hatchets, and shovels, at the first order, because it would perhaps be necessary to blow up the rocks and to cut the roads by means of ditches and the felling of trees.
"You understand," said he, seeing me rather uneasy, "that these things are simply measures of forethought, nothing is threatening; Marshal MacMahon is concentrating his troops near Hagenau; everything is in movement; there is nothing immediate to fear; but the chief thing is to be ready in case of need; when everything is ready, we will act rapidly and surely. I may receive an order from General de Failly to block the roads, and in such a case the order must be executed within a few hours."
"It will not take long, sir," I answered; "everywhere the rocks are leaning over the roads; in falling they would take everything with them to the bottom of the valley."
"Exactly," said he. "But, first, every one must be warned. We have no lack of blasting powder; if the order arrives, all my colleagues having taken the same measures, it will be a day's journey from Bitche to Dabo; not a cannon, not an ammunition wagon can pass from Alsace to Lorraine."
He said this as he accompanied me to the door, and shook hands with me.
As I was going thoughtfully home, I saw on the height of Altenberg some soldiers who were planting stockades along the hillside. The greatest confusion was reigning in the suburbs, people were running from house to house to get news, two or three companies of infantry were encamped in a potato-field.
All that day and the next I did nothing but carry the orders of the inspector from Frohmühle to Echbourg, from Echbourg to Hangsviller, to Graufthal, to Metting, etc., telling each of what he would have to do, the places where we were to meet, the rocks which we were to attack.
On the third day I came home, so worn out that I could not eat nor even sleep for several hours. However, towards morning I fell into a heavy sleep, from which I was roused by Marie-Rose coming into my room and opening the window towards Dôsenheim.
"Listen, father," said she, in a trembling voice; "listen to that noise. What is it? We hear nothing but that in the whole valley."
I listened. It was an endless booming that filled the mountain, and at times covered the noise of the wind in the trees. It did not take me long to understand what it meant, and I answered:
"It is cannon. They are fighting seven or eight leagues from here, near Woerth. It is a great battle."
Marie-Rose instantly ran down-stairs, and after having dressed myself I followed her into the lower room, where the grandmother was also; her chin trembled as she looked at me with wide-open eyes.
"It is nothing," I told them; "do not be afraid; whatever happens, the Germans will never come this far; we have too many good places to defend our passes."
But I was very far from feeling very confident myself.
The cannonading grew louder, sometimes like the distant rolling of a storm; then it died away, and we heard nothing more but the rustling of the leaves, the barking of Ragot before the door, and the quacking of a duck among the willows by the river. These voices of the solitude, when one thought of what was going on behind the curtain of the forest, had something strange about them.
I should have liked to climb the rocks to see at least what was going on on the other side, in the plain; but as the order to commence operations might arrive at any minute, I was forced to stay where I was.
This went on till three o'clock in the afternoon.
I walked about, trying to put a brave face on the matter, so as not to frighten the women. This day, the sixth of August, was very long; even today, when so many other griefs have overwhelmed us, I cannot think of it without a heavy heart.
The most terrible moment was, when all at once the dull sound that we had heard since morning ceased. We listened at the garden window, but not a breath, not a sound but those from the valley reached us. It was only after a few minutes that I said:
"It is over. The battle is ended. Now some are running away and the others are pursuing them. God grant that we have conquered."
And till night not a soul appeared in the neighbourhood. After supper we went to bed with heavy hearts.
XII
The next day was very gloomy; the sky was cloudy, and at length it began to rain, after the two months' drought; the rain fell heavily and continuously; the hours passed slowly away, the order to commence operations did not come, and I said to myself:
"That is a good sign! So much the better! If we had been defeated the order would have arrived early this morning."
But we had no news, and about three o'clock, losing patience, I said to Marie-Rose and the grandmother:
"See here, I cannot stand this any longer; I must go to Petite Pierre to find out what is going on."
I put on my water-proof cape and went out into the pouring rain. On our sandy soil the water flows off without soaking into the ground. I arrived at Petite Pierre, where every one was then shut up in the cottages, about six o'clock. At the point of the fort, high up in air a sentinel was on guard outside of his watch-box.
A few minutes later I entered the office of the chief inspector. He was there alone, walking up and down with a bowed back and a gloomy air, and when I raised my hood he stopped short and said to me:
"It is you, Father Frederick, is it? Have you come to hear the news and to get your orders?"
"Yes, sir," I replied.
"Well, the news is bad; the battle is lost; we are repulsed from Alsace, and one hundred and fifty thousand Germans are advancing to enter Lorraine."
A cold shiver ran down my back, and as he said no more I murmured:
"Everything is ready, sir; there is nothing to do but to distribute the powder for the mines and to commence felling the trees; we are all ready and waiting."
Then, smiling bitterly and running his hands through his thick brown hair, he cried:
"Yes, yes, we are all like that. Time presses; the retreat is continuing by Bitche and Saverne, the enemy is sending out scouts in all directions, and the orders do not come."
I answered nothing, and then, seating himself, he cried:
"After all, why should I hide the truth from you? General de Failly has sent me word that the abattis are useless, and that there is nothing for us to do."
I was as though rooted to the ground and a cold trembling shook my limbs. The inspector recommenced his walk with his hands crossed behind his back under the skirts of his coat, and as he paced to and fro, without saying another word, I added:
"And now, what are we to do, sir?"
"Remain at your posts like brave fellows," he said. "I have no other orders to give you."
Something choked me; he saw that, and, looking at me with moistened eyes, he held out his hand to me, saying:
"Come, Father Frederick, take courage. After all, it is pleasant to be able to say, a hand upon the heart, 'I am a brave man!' That is our recompense."
And I said, deeply moved:
"Yes, sir, yes, that is all which remains to us, and that will never be lacking."
He did me the honour to accompany me down the walk to the gate, and again pressing my hand, he cried:
"Courage! courage!"
Then I set off again, descending the great valley. The rain covered the pool of the Fromühle, which was quivering all gray among the willows and the parched herbage.
As to telling you about the ideas which chased each other through my head, and how often I passed my hand over my face to wipe away the tears and the rain which were flowing from it – as to relating to you that, George, it is not in my power; that would take a wiser man than I; I felt myself no longer, I did not know myself, and I repeated to myself in my trouble:
"No orders – it is useless. The general says that it is useless to cut down the trees and to block up the roads. Then he wants the enemy to advance and to come through the passes."
And I marched on.
It was dark night when I reached the house. Marie-Rose was waiting for me, seated by the table; she observed me with an anxious eye, and she seemed to ask, "What has happened – what orders have we."
But I said nothing, and, throwing my cape, all streaming with rain, on the back of a chair, and shaking my cap, I cried:
"Go to bed, Marie-Rose, we will not be disturbed to-night; go and sleep tranquilly; the general at Bitche does not want us to stir. The battle is lost, but we will have another in Alsace, at Saverne, or farther off, and the roads are to remain open. We have no need to do anything, the roads will be well guarded."
I do not know what she thought about it, but at the end of a minute, seeing that I did not sit down, she said:
"I have kept your soup near the fire, and it is still hot if you would like something to eat, father."
"Bah! I am not hungry," I answered; "let us go to bed: it is late, and that is the best thing to do."
I could no longer restrain myself; anger was gaining upon me. I went out and bolted the door, and then taking the lamp I went up-stairs. Marie-Rose followed me, and we each went to our own room.
I heard my daughter go to bed, but I remained thinking for a long time, leaning my elbows on the table and watching the little yellow light before the black panes where the ivy leaves were shivering in the rain, winking my eyes and saying to myself:
"Frederick, there are, nevertheless, many asses in the world, and they do not walk in the rear; they march in front and lead the others."
At last, as the night advanced towards two o'clock, thinking that it was useless to burn oil for nothing, I undressed and went to bed, blowing out my lamp.
On that very night of the seventh to the eighth of August, the Germans, having reconnoitred to a great distance and finding that all the roads were free, advanced in a body and took possession of the passes, not only of La Zingel but also of La Zorn, thus investing Phalsbourg, the bombardment of which was begun two days later.
They passed also into Lorraine by the great tunnel of Homartin, while our army fell back, by forced marches, upon Nancy, and finally upon Chalons.
Thus the two great German armies of Woerth and Forbach found themselves united, and all others were as if swallowed up, cut off from all help and even from all hope.
You can easily picture to yourself that immense army of Prince Frederick; Bavarians, Würtemburgers, Badeners, cavalry, artillery, infantry, which defied by squadrons and by regiments through our lovely valley; that torrent of human beings which goes on and on, ever forward, without interruption during a whole week, and the cannon which thunders around the place, and the old rocks of the Graufthal which resound with echoes upon echoes, and then the smoke of the conflagration which arises to Heaven forming a sombre dome above our valleys.
XIII
After the grand passage of the German army and the bombardment of the city, thousands of landwehr came to occupy the country. These people filled up all the villages and hamlets; here one company, there two; further on three or four, commanded by Prussian officers. They guarded all the roads and paths, they made requisitions of all kinds: bread, wheat, flour, hay, straw, cattle, nothing came amiss to them; they amused themselves at the corner of the fire, talked of their wives and children with an air of tender emotion, pitied the fate of their poor brothers of Alsace and Lorraine, and sighed over our misery. But all that did not prevent them from eating and drinking heartily at our expense, and from stretching themselves out in the old arm-chair of the grandmother or grandfather, smoking with satisfaction the cigars that we were obliged to furnish for them! Yes, fine words did not cost them much. This is what I have often seen at Graufthal, at Echbourg, Berlinger, Flangeviller, where the desire to learn the news made me go from time to time, wearing a blouse and carrying a stick.
From the first days of September their governor-general, Bismark Bohlen, came to establish himself at Hagenau, declaring that Alsace had always been a German province, and that his Majesty the King of Prussia was taking possession of his own; that Strasbourg, Bitche, Phalsbourg, Nevy Brisach were to be considered as cities rebelling against the legitimate authority of King William, but that they would soon be brought to their senses by the new bombshells weighing a hundred and fifty pounds.
This, George, was what they said openly with us, and that shows that these Germans took us for fools, to whom they could tell the most silly jokes without fear of being laughed at.
Our only consolation was that we lived in the midst of the forest, in which these brave people did not like to risk themselves; I thanked Heaven for it every evening. But scarcely was Bismark Bohlen installed than we saw passing every morning and evening regularly mounted gens-d'armesin the valley, with their helmets and their great cloaks, with packets of proclamations, which the mayors were obliged to post up on the doors of their offices and the churches.
These proclamations promised the kindest of treatment to the faithful subjects of King William, and threatened with death all those who assisted the French, whom they called "our enemies!" It was forbidden to give them bread or even a glass of water in their misfortune, to serve them as guides, or to hide them in one's house; one must give them up to be an honest man; you were to be judged by a council of war in case of disobedience, and the smallest penalty for such an offence was twenty years of the galleys and thirty-seven thousand francs fine.
By such means Bismark Bohlen could dispense with all other explanations touching the races, the German fatherland, and the rights of his Majesty.
Picture to yourself now our solitude, the fear of marauders, whom we could not have dared to repulse, because they would have presented themselves in the name of the king. Fortunately that kind of people are not very courageous; it was rumoured that sharp-shooters, and even soldiers escaped from Woerth, were prowling round in the neighbourhood, and that preserved us from visits from that good race which wished us so much good.
It was also said that the members of the forest guard would be kept, that the salary of the old guards would even be augmented, and that several would obtain promotion.
You can understand my indignation when I heard such things said; I had not forgotten the advice of our good Chief Inspector; I reminded our men of it at every opportunity:
"We must stay at our posts! Perhaps the luck will not always be against us. Let every one do his duty till the end. I have no other orders to give you."
He observed this order himself, staying at Petite Pierre and continuing to fulfil the duties of his office.
Strasbourg was defending itself; there was fighting going on round Metz. From time to time I sent Merlin to get the orders from our superiors, and the answer was always: "Nothing is hopeless. We may be called upon at any minute. Let every one stay where he is!"
We waited then, and the autumn, always so beautiful in our mountains, with its russet leaves, its silent forests, where the song of birds was no longer heard; its meadows newly mown and smooth as a carpet as far as the eye could reach; the river covered with gladiols and dead leaves, this great spectacle so calm at all times, was still grander and sadder than ever in the midst of the terrible events through which we were passing.
How often then, listening to the endless murmur of the forest, over which was passing the first cold shiver of the winter, how often have I said to myself:
"While you are looking, Frederick, at those old woods wherein everything is sleeping, what is happening down yonder in Champagne? What has become of that immense army, the cavalry, the infantry, the cannons, all those thousands of beings going eagerly to destruction for the glory and interest of a few? Shall we see them driven back in disorder? Will they remain lying amid the mists of the Meuse, or will they return to place their heel upon our necks?"
I imagined great battles. The grandmother also was very uneasy; she sat by the window and said:
"Listen, Frederick, do you hear nothing?"
And I listened; it was only the wind among the dry leaves.
Sometimes, but rarely, the city seemed to awake; so a few cannon shots thundered amid the echoes from Quatre Vents to Mittelbroun and then all was silent again. The idea of Metz sustained us; it was from there, above all, that we hoped to obtain succour.
I have nothing more to tell you about this autumn of 1870; no news, no visits, and towards the last but little hope.
But I must tell you now about a thing that surprised us a good deal, that we could not understand, and which unhappily has now become too clear for us, like many other things.
XIV
About two weeks after the establishment of Bismark Bohlen at Hagenau, we saw arrive one morning in the valley a vehicle similar to those used by the Germans who were starting for America before the invention of railroads – a long wagon, loaded with hundreds of old traps, straw beds, bedsteads, frying-pans, lanterns, etc., with a muddy dog and an unkempt wife and a horde of scabby children, and the master himself leading his sorry jade by the bridle.
We looked at them in amazement, thinking, "What does all this mean? What are these people coming to do among us?"
Under the cover near the pole the woman, already old, yellow, and wrinkled, her cap put on awry, was picking the heads of the children, who were swarming in the straw, boys and girls, all light-haired and chubby and pussy, as potato-eaters always are.
"Wilhelm, will you be quiet?" she said. "Wait till I take a look – wait, I see something. Good, I have it; you can tumble about now. Wilhelmina, come put your head upon my knees; each must take their turn; you can look at the pine trees later."
And the father, a big man, in a bottle-green coat, that had a thousand wrinkles in the back; his cheeks hanging, his little nose adorned with a pair of spectacles, his pantaloons tucked into his boots, and a big porcelain pipe in his mouth, pulled on his miserable horse by the bridle and said to his wife:
"Herminia, look at those forests, those meadows, this rich Alsace. We are in the terrestrial paradise."
It was a group resembling the gipsies, and, as Merlin came to see us that day, we talked of nothing but that the whole evening.
But we were destined to see many more of them, for these strangers, in old cabriolets, basket wagons, chars-a-banc, and two or four wheeled carriages, put into requisition along the road, continued to pass for a long time. From the first of them, the remembrance of whom has remained in my mind, the train was never ending; there passed daily three, four, or five vehicles, loaded with children, old men, young women, and young girls – the last gotten up in an odd style, with dresses which, it seemed to me, I remembered having seen some fifteen or twenty years before upon the ladies of Saverne, and with wide hats, trimmed with paper roses, set upon their plaits, just three hairs thick, like the queues of our grandfathers.
These people talked all kinds of German and were hard to understand. They had also all kinds of faces: some broad and fat, with venerable beards; others sharp as a knife-blade, and with their old overcoats buttoned to the throat, to hide their shirts; some with light gray eyes and stiff, shaggy, red whiskers; others little, round, lively, going, running, and wriggling about; but all, at the sight of our beautiful valley, uttering cries of admiration and lifting up their hands, men, women, and children, as we are told the Jews did on entering into the Promised Land.
Thus came these people from all parts of Germany; they had taken the railroads to our frontiers, but all our lines being then occupied by their troops and their provision and ammunition trains starting from Wissembourg or from Soreltz, they were forced to travel in wagons, after the Alsatian fashion.
Sometimes one and sometimes another would ask us the way to Saverne, Metting, or Lutzelstein; they got down at the spring below the bridge and drank from one of their pans or from the hollow of their hands.
Every day these passages were repeated, and I cudgelled my brain to find out what these foreigners were coming to do among us at so troubled a time, when provisions were so scarce and when we did not know to-day what we should have to eat the morrow. They never said a word, but went upon their way, under the protection of the landwehr which filled the country. We have since learned that they shared in the requisitions – a fact which permitted them to save money and even to get themselves into good condition on the road.
George, all these Bohemians of a new species, whose miserable air filled our hearts with pity, even in the midst of our troubles, were the functionaries which Germany sent to be our administrators and our rulers, preceptors, controllers, notaries, schoolmasters, foresters, etc. They were persons who, from the months of September and October, long before the treaty of peace was signed, arrived tranquilly to take the place of our own people, saying to them, without ceremony, "Get out of there, so that I may get in."
One would have said that it was all agreed upon beforehand, for it happened so even before the capitulation of Strasburg.
How many poor devils, beer barrels or schnaps drinkers, who had been whipping the devil around the stump for years and years in all the little cities of Pomerania, of Brandenburg, and further still, who never would have become anything at home, and who did not know from whom to ask for credit at home for rye bread and potatoes – how many such men fell then upon rich Alsace, that terrestrial paradise, promised to the Germans by their kings, their professors, and their schoolmasters!
At the time of which I speak they were still modest, notwithstanding the wonderful victories of their armies; they were not yet sure of preserving that extraordinary good-fortune to the end, and, comparing their old tattered coats and their miserable appearance with the easy fortune of the least of the functionaries of Alsace and of Lorraine, they doubtless said to themselves:
"It cannot be possible that the Lord should have chosen scamps like us to fill such good places. What extraordinary merit have we, then, to play first fiddle in a country such as this, which the French have occupied for two hundred years, which they have cultivated, planted, and enriched with workshops and factories and improvements of all kinds? Provided that they do not return to retake it, and to force us to return to our schnaps and our potatoes."
Yes, George, with a little common sense and justice, these intruders must have reasoned thus to themselves; a sort of uneasiness could be recognised in their eyes and in their smile. But once Strasburg was taken and Metz given up, and they comfortably installed in large and fine houses, which they had not built, sleeping in the good beds of prefects, under-prefects, judges, and other personages, of whom they had never even had an idea; after having imposed taxes upon the good lands which they had not sowed, and laid hands upon the registers of all the administrations, which they had not established, seeing the money, the good money of rich Alsace, flowing into their coffers – then, George, they believed themselves to be really presidents of something, inspectors, controllers, receivers, and the German pride, which they know so well how to hide with cringing when they are not the stronger – that brutal pride puffed out their cheeks.
There always remained to them during the time that I was still down yonder an old remembrance of the Lorempé Strasse and of the Speingler Volk, where they had formerly lived. That remembrance made them very economical; two of them would order a mug of beer and pay for it between them; they disputed about farthings with the shoemaker and the tailor; they found something to find fault with in every bill, crying out that we wanted to cheat them; and the poorest cobbler among us would have been ashamed to display the meanness of these new functionaries, who promised us so many benefits in the name of the German fatherland, and who showed us so much avarice and even abominable meanness. But that only showed us with what race we had now to do.