Respecting my own feelings during that war, I may say that the paramount one was curiosity. To be a journalist, a man must be inquisitive. It is a _sine qua non_ of his profession. Moreover, I was very young; I had no responsibilities; I may have been in love, or have thought I was, but I was on my own, and my chief desire was to see as much as I could. I willingly admit that, when Gougeard"s column was abruptly attacked at Droue, I experienced some trepidation at finding myself under fire; but firmness may prove as contagious as fear, and when Gougeard rallied his men and went forward to repel the Germans, interest and a kind of excitement took possession of me. Moreover, as I was, at least nominally, attached to the ambulance service, there was duty to be done, and that left no opportunity for thought. The pictures of the ambulances in or near Sedan are among the most striking ones contained in "La Debacle," and, judging by what I saw elsewhere, Zola exaggerated nothing. The ambulance is the truly horrible side of warfare. To see men lying dead on the ground is, so to say, nothing. One gets used to it. But to see them amputated, and to see them lying in bed suffering, often acutely, from dreadful wounds, or horrible diseases--dysentery, typhus, small-pox--that is the thing which tries the nerves of all but the doctors and the trained nurses. On several occasions I helped to carry wounded men, and felt no emotion in doing so; but more than once I was almost overcome by the sight of all the suffering in some ambulance.
When, on the morning of January 12, I heard that a general retreat had been ordered, I hesitated as to what course I should pursue. I did not then antic.i.p.ate the street-fighting, and the consequent violence of the Germans. But journalistic instinct told me that if I remained in the town until after the German entry I might then find it very difficult to get away and communicate with my people. At the same time, I did not think the German entry so imminent as proved to be the case; and I spent a considerable time in the streets watching all the tumult which prevailed there. Now and again a sadly diminished battalion went by in fairly good order. But numbers of disbanded men hurried hither and thither in confusion. Here and there a street was blocked with army vans and waggons, whose drivers were awaiting orders, not knowing which direction to take.
Officers and estafettes galloped about on all sides. Then a number of wounded men were carried in carts, on stretchers, and on trucks towards the railway-station. Others, with their heads bandaged or their arms in slings, walked painfully in the same direction. Outside the station there was a strong cordon of Gendarmes striving to resist all the pressure of a great mob of disbanded men who wished to enter and get away in the trains.
At one moment, when, after quite a struggle, some of the wounded were conveyed through the mob and the cordon, the disbanded soldiers followed, and many of them fought their way into the station in spite of all the efforts of the Gendarmes. The _melee_ was so desperate that I did not attempt to follow, but, after watching it for some time, retraced my steps towards my lodging. All was hubbub and confusion at the little inn, and only with difficulty could I get anything to eat there. A little later, however, I managed to tell the landlord--his name was Dubuisson--that I meant to follow the army, and, if possible, secure a place in one of the trains which were frequently departing. After stowing a few necessaries away in my pockets, I begged him to take charge of my bag until some future day, and the worthy old man then gave me some tips as to how I might make my way into the station, by going a little beyond it, and climbing a palisade.
We condoled with one another and shook hands. I then went out. The cannonade, which had been going on for several hours, had now become more violent. Several sh.e.l.ls had fallen on or near the Caserne de la Mission during the morning. Now others were falling near the railway-station.
I went my way, however, turned to the right on quitting the Rue du Gue-de-Maulny, reached some palings, and got on to the railway-line.
Skirting it, I turned to the left, going back towards the station.
I pa.s.sed one or two trains, which were waiting. But they were composed of trucks and closed vans. I might perhaps have climbed on to one of the former, but it was a bitterly cold day; and as for the latter, of course I could not hope to enter one of them. So I kept on towards the station, and presently, without let or hindrance, I reached one of the platforms.
Le Mans being an important junction, its station was very large, in some respects quite monumental. The princ.i.p.al part was roofed with gla.s.s and suggested Charing Cross. I do not remember exactly the number of lines of metals running through it, but I think there must have been four or five.
There were two trains waiting there, one of them, which was largely composed of pa.s.senger carriages, being crammed with soldiers. I tried to get into one carriage, but was fiercely repulsed. So, going to the rear of this train, I crossed to another platform, where the second train was.
This was made up of pa.s.senger coaches and vans. I scrambled into one of the latter, which was open. There were a number of packing-cases inside it, but there was at least standing room for several persons. Two railway men and two or three soldiers were already there. One of the former helped me to get in. I had, be it said, a semi-military appearance, for my grey frieze coat was frogged, and besides, what was more important, I wore the red-cross armlet given me at the time when I followed Gougeard"s column.
Almost immediately afterwards the train full of soldiers got away. The cannonade was now very loud, and the gla.s.s roof above us constantly vibrated. Some minutes elapsed whilst we exchanged impressions. Then, all at once, a railway official--it may have been M. Piquet himself--rushed along the platform in the direction of the engine, shouting as he went: "Depechez! Depechez! Sauvez-vous!" At the same moment a stray artilleryman was seen hastening towards us; but suddenly there came a terrific crash of gla.s.s, a sh.e.l.l burst through the roof and exploded, and the unlucky artilleryman fell on the platform, evidently severely wounded. We were already in motion, however, and the line being dear, we got fairly swiftly across the viaduct spanning the Sarthe. This placed us beyond the reach of the enemy, and we then slowed down.
One or two more trains were got away after ours, the last one, I believe, being vainly a.s.sailed by some Uhlans before it had crossed the viaduct.
The latter ought then to have been blown up, but an attempt to do so proved ineffectual. We went on very slowly on account of the many trains in front of us. Every now and again, too, there came a wearisome stop. It was bitterly cold, and it was in vain that we beat the tattoo with our feet in the hope of thereby warming them. The men with me were also desperately hungry, and complained of it so bitterly and so frequently, that, at last, I could not refrain from producing a little bread and meat which I had secured at Le Mans and sharing it with them. But it merely meant a bite for each of us. However, on stopping at last at Conlie station--some sixteen or seventeen miles from Le Mans--we all hastily scrambled out of the train, rushed into a little inn, and almost fought like wild beasts for sc.r.a.ps of food. Then on we went once more, still very slowly, still stopping again and again, sometimes for an hour at a stretch, until, half numbed by the cold, weary of stamping our feet, and still ravenous, we reached the little town of Sille-le-Guillaume, which is not more than eight or nine miles from Conlie.
At Sille I secured a tiny garret-like room at the crowded Hotel de la Croix d"Or, a third-rate hostelry, which was already invaded by officers, soldiers, railway officials, and others who had quitted Le Mans before I had managed to do so. My comparatively youthful appearance won for me, however, the good favour of the buxom landlady, who, after repeatedly declaring to other applicants that she had not a corner left in the whole house, took me aside and said in an undertone: "listen, I will put you in a little _cabinet_ upstairs. I will show you the way by and by. But don"t tell anybody." And she added compa.s.sionately: "_Mon pauvre garcon_, you look frozen. Go into the kitchen. There is a good fire there, and you will get something to eat."
Truth to tell, the larder was nearly empty, but I secured a little cheese and some bread and some very indifferent wine, which, however, in my then condition, seemed to me to be nectar. I helped myself to a bowl, I remember, and poured about a pint of wine into it, so as to soak my bread, which was stale and hard. Toasting my feet at the fire whilst I regaled myself with that improvised _soupe-au-vin_, I soon felt warm and inspirited once more. Hardship sits on one but lightly when one is only seventeen years of age and stirred by early ambition. All the world then lay before me, like mine oyster, to be opened by either sword or pen.
At a later hour, by the light of a solitary guttering candle, in the little _cabinet_ upstairs, I wrote, as best I could, an account of the recent fighting and the loss of Le Mans; and early on the following morning I prevailed on a railway-man who was going to Rennes to post my packet there, in order that it might be forwarded to England _via_ Saint Malo. The article appeared in the _Pall Mall Gazette_, filling a page of that journal, and whatever its imperfections may have been, it was undoubtedly the first detailed account of the battle of Le Mans, from the French side, to appear in the English Press. It so happened, indeed, that the other correspondents with the French forces, including my cousin Montague Vizetelly of _The Daily News_, lingered at Le Mans until it was too late for them to leave the town, the Germans having effected their entry.
German detachments soon started in pursuit of the retreating Army of the Loire. Chanzy, as previously mentioned, modified his plans, in accordance with Gambetta"s views, on the evening of January 12. The new orders were that the 16th Army Corps should retreat on Laval by way of Cha.s.sille and Saint Jean-sur-Erve, that the 17th, after pa.s.sing Conlie, should come down to Sainte Suzanne, and that the 21st should proceed from Conlie to Sille-le-Guillaume. There were several rear-guard engagements during, the retreat. Already on the 13th, before the 21st Corps could modify its original line of march, it had to fight at Ballon, north of Le Mans.
On the next day one of its detachments, composed of 9000 Mobilises of the Mayenne, was attacked at Beaumont-sur-Sarthe, and hastily fell back, leaving 1400 men in the hands of the Germans, who on their side lost only _nine_! Those French soldiers who retreated by way of Conlie partially pillaged the abandoned stores there. A battalion of Mobiles, on pa.s.sing that way, provided themselves with new trousers, coats, boots, and blankets, besides carrying off a quant.i.ty of bread, salt-pork, sugar, and other provisions. These things were at least saved from the Germans, who on reaching the abandoned camp found there a quant.i.ty of military _materiel_, five million cartridges, 1500 cases of biscuits and extract of meat, 180 barrels of salt-pork, a score of sacks of rice, and 140 puncheons of brandy.
On January 14 the 21st Corps under Jaures reached Sille-le-Guillaume, and was there attacked by the advanced guard of the 13th German Corps under the Grand Duke of Mecklenburg. The French offered a good resistance, however, and the Germans retreated on Conlie. I myself had managed to leave Sille the previous afternoon, but such was the block on the line that our train could get no farther than Voutre, a village of about a thousand souls. Railway travelling seeming an impossibility, I prevailed on a farmer to give me a lift as far as Sainte Suzanne, whence I hoped to cut across country in the direction of Laval. Sainte Suzanne is an ancient and picturesque little town which in those days still had a rampart and the ruins of an early feudal castle. I supped and slept at an inn there, and was told in the morning (January 14) that it would be best for me to go southward towards Saint Jean-sur-Erve, where I should strike the direct highway to Laval, and might also be able to procure a conveyance. I did not then know the exact retreating orders. I hoped to get out of the way of all the troops and waggons enc.u.mbering the roads, but in this I was doomed to disappointment, for at Saint Jean I fell in with them again.
That day a part of the rear-guard of the 16th Corps (Jaureguiberry)--that is, a detachment of 1100 men with a squadron of cavalry under General Le Bouedec--had been driven out of Cha.s.sille by the German cavalry under General von Schmidt. This had accelerated the French retreat, which continued in the greatest confusion, all the men hastening precipitately towards Saint Jean, where, after getting the bulk of his force on to the heights across the river Erve, which here intersects the highway, Jaureguiberry resolved on attempting to check the enemy"s pursuit. Though the condition of most of the men was lamentable, vigorous defensive preparations were made on the night of the 14th and the early morning of the following day. On the low ground, near the village and the river, trees were felled and roads were barricaded; while on the slopes batteries were disposed behind hedges, in which embrasures were cut. The enemy"s force was, I believe, chiefly composed of cavalry and artillery. The latter was already firing at us when Jaureguiberry rode along our lines.
A sh.e.l.l exploded near him, and some splinters of the projectile struck his horse in the neck, inflicting a ghastly, gaping wound. The poor beast, however, did not fall immediately, but galloped on frantically for more than a score of yards, then suddenly reared, and after doing so came down, all of a heap, upon the snow. However, the Admiral, who was a good horseman, speedily disengaged himself, and turned to secure another mount--when he perceived that Colonel Beraud, his chief of staff, who had been riding behind him, had been wounded by the same sh.e.l.l, and had fallen from his horse. I saw the Colonel being carried to a neighbouring farmhouse, and was afterwards told that he had died there.
The engagement had no very decisive result, but Schmidt fell back to the road connecting Sainte Suzanne with Thorigne-en-Charnie, whilst we withdrew towards Soulge-le-Bruant, about halfway between Saint Jean and Laval. During the fight, however, whilst the artillery duel was in progress, quite half of Jaureguiberry"s men had taken themselves off without waiting for orders. I believe that on the night of January 15 he could not have mustered more than 7000 men for action. Yet only two days previously he had had nearly three times that number with him.
Nevertheless, much might be pleaded for the men. The weather was still bitterly cold, snow lay everywhere, little or no food could be obtained, the commissariat refraining from requisitioning cattle at the farms, for all through the departments for Mayenne and Ille-et-Vilaine cattle-plague was raging. Hungry, emaciated, faint, coughing incessantly, at times affected with small-pox, the men limped or trudged on despairingly. Their boots were often in a most wretched condition; some wore sabots, others, as I said once before, merely had rags around their poor frost-bitten feet. And the roads were obstructed by guns, vans, waggons, vehicles of all kinds. Sometimes an axle had broken, sometimes a horse had fallen dead on the snow, in any case one or another conveyance had come to a standstill, and prevented others from pursuing their route. I recollect seeing hungry men cutting steaks from the flanks of the dead beasts, sometimes devouring the horseflesh raw, at others taking it to some cottage, where the avaricious peasants, who refused to part with a sc.r.a.p of food, at least had to let these cold and hungry men warm themselves at a fire, and toast their horseflesh before it. At one halt three soldiers knocked a peasant down because he vowed that he could not even give them a pinch of salt. That done, they rifled his cupboards and ate all they could find.
Experience had taught me a lesson. I had filled my pockets with ham, bread, hard-boiled eggs, and other things, before leaving Sainte Suzanne.
I had also obtained a meal at Saint Jean, and secured some brandy there, and I ate and drank sparingly and surrept.i.tiously whilst I went on, overtaking one after another batch of weary soldiers. However, the distance between Saint Jean and Laval is not very great. Judging by the map, it is a matter of some twenty-five miles at the utmost. Moreover, I walked only half the distance. The troops moved so slowly that I reached Soulge-le-Bruant long before them, and there induced a man to drive me to Laval. I was there on the afternoon of January 16, and as from this point trains were still running westward, I reached Saint Servan on the following day. Thus I slipped through to my goal, thereby justifying the nickname of L"Anguille--the Eel--which some of my young French friends had bestowed on me.
A day or two previously my father had returned from England, and I found him with my stepmother. He became very much interested in my story, and talked of going to Laval himself. Further important developments might soon occur, the Germans might push on to Chanzy"s new base, and I felt that I also ought to go back. The life I had been leading either makes or mars a man physically. Personally, I believe that it did me a world of good. At all events, it was settled that my father and myself should go to Laval together. We started a couple of days later, and managed to travel by rail as far as Rennes. But from that point to Laval the line was now very badly blocked, and so we hired a closed vehicle, a ramshackle affair, drawn by two scraggy Breton nags. The main roads, being still crowded with troops, artillery, and baggage waggons, and other impedimenta, were often impa.s.sable, and so we proceeded by devious ways, amidst which our driver lost himself, in such wise that at night we had to seek a shelter at the famous Chateau des Bochers, immortalized by Mme. de Sevigne, and replete with precious portraits of herself, her own and her husband"s families, in addition to a quant.i.ty of beautiful furniture dating from her time.
It took us, I think, altogether two days to reach Laval, where, after securing accommodation at one of the hotels, we went out in search of news, having heard none since we had started on our journey. Perceiving a newspaper shop, we entered it, and my father insisted on purchasing a copy of virtually every journal which was on sale there. Unfortunately for us, this seemed highly suspicious to a local National Guard who was in the shop, and when we left it he followed us. My father had just then begun to speak to me in English, and at the sound of a foreign tongue the man"s suspicions increased. So he drew nearer, and demanded to know who and what we were. I replied that we were English and that I had previously been authorised to accompany the army as a newspaper correspondent. My statements, however, were received with incredulity by this suspicious individual, who, after one or two further inquiries, requested us to accompany him to a guard-house standing near one of the bridges thrown over the river Mayenne.
Thither we went, followed by several people who had a.s.sembled during our parley, and found ourselves before a Lieutenant of Gendarmes, on the charge of being German spies. Our denouncer was most positive on the point. Had we not bought at least a dozen newspapers? Why a dozen, when sensible people would have been satisfied with one? Such extensive purchases must surely have been prompted by some sinister motive. Besides, he had heard us conversing in German. English, indeed! No, no! He was certain that we had spoken German, and was equally certain of our guilt.
The Lieutenant looked grave, and my explanations did not quite satisfy him. The predicament was the more awkward as, although my father was provided with a British pa.s.sport, I had somehow left my precious military permit at Saint Servan, Further, my father carried with him some doc.u.ments which might have been deemed incriminating, They were, indeed, safe-conducts signed by various German generals, which had been used by us conjointly while pa.s.sing, through the German lines after making our way out of Paris in November. As for my correspondent"s permit, signed some time previously by the Chief of the Staff, I had been unable to find it when examining my papers on our way to Laval, but had consoled myself with the thought that I might get it replaced at headquarters. [The red-cross armlet which had repeatedly proved so useful to me, enabling me to come and go without much interference, was at our hotel, in a bag we had brought with us.] Could I have shown it to the Lieutenant, he might have ordered our release. As it happened, he decided to send us to the Provost Marshal. I was not greatly put out by that command, for I remembered the officer in question, or thought I did, and felt convinced that everything would speedily be set right.
We started off in the charge of a brigadier-otherwise a corporal--of Gendarmes, and four men, our denouncer following closely at our heels. My father at once pointed out to me that the brigadier and one of the men wore silver medals bearing the effigy of Queen Victoria, so I said to the former, "You were in the Crimea. You are wearing our Queen"s medal."
"Yes," he replied, "I gained that at the Alma."
"And your comrade?"
"He won his at the Tohernaya."
"I dare say you would have been glad if French and English had fought side by side in this war?" I added. "Perhaps they ought to have done so."
"_Parbleu!_ The English certainly owed us a _bon coup de main_, instead of which they have only sold us broken-down horses and bad boots."
I agreed that there had been some instances of the kind. A few more words pa.s.sed, and I believe that the brigadier became convinced of our English nationality. But as his orders were to take us to the Provost"s, thither we were bound to go. An ever increasing crowd followed. Shopkeepers and other folk came to their doors and windows, and the words, "They are spies, German spies!" rang out repeatedly, exciting the crowd and rendering it more and more hostile. For a while we followed a quay with granite parapets, below which flowed the Mayenne, laden with drifting ice.
All at once, however, I perceived on our left a large square, where about a hundred men of the Laval National Guard were being exercised. They saw us appear with our escort, they saw the crowd which followed us, and they heard the cries, "Spies! German spies!" Forthwith, with that disregard for discipline which among the French was so characteristic of the period, they broke their ranks and ran towards us.
We were only able to take a few more steps. In vain did the Gendarmes try to force a way through the excited mob. We were surrounded by angry, scowling, vociferating men. Imprecations burst forth, fists were clenched, arms were waved, rifles were shaken, the unruly National Guards being the most eager of all to denounce and threaten us. "Down with the spies!" they shouted. "Down with the German pigs! Give them to us! Let us shoot them!"
A very threatening rush ensued, and I was almost carried off my feet. But in another moment I found myself against the parapet of the quay, with my father beside me, and the icy river in the rear. In front of us stood the brigadier and his four men guarding us from the angry citizens of Laval.
"Hand them over to us! We will settle their affair," shouted an excited National Guard. "You know that they are spies, brigadier."
"I know that I have my orders," growled the veteran. "I am taking them to the Provost. It is for him to decide."
"That is too much ceremony," was the retort. "Let us shoot them!"
"But they are not worth a cartridge!" shouted another man. "Throw them into the river!"
That ominous cry was taken up. "Yes, yes, to the river with them!" Then came another rush, one so extremely violent that our case seemed desperate.
But the brigadier and his men had managed to fix bayonets during the brief parley, and on the mob being confronted by five blades of glistening steel, its savage eagerness abated. Moreover, the old brigadier behaved magnificently. "Keep back!" cried he. "I have my orders. You will have to settle me before you take my prisoners!"
Just then I caught the eye of one of the National Guards, who was shaking his fist at us, and I said to him, "You are quite mistaken. We are not Germans, but English!"
"Yes, yes, _Anglais, Anglais_!" my father exclaimed.
While some of the men in the crowd were more or less incredulously repeating that statement, a black-bearded individual--whom I can, at this very moment, still picture with my mind"s eye, so vividly did the affair impress me--climbed on to the parapet near us, and called out, "You say you are English? Do you know London? Do you know Regent Street? Do you know the Soho?"
"Yes, yes!" we answered quickly.
"You know the Lei-ces-terre Square? What name is the music-hall there?"
"Why, the Alhambra!" The "Empire," let me add, did not exist in those days.
The man seemed satisfied. "I think they are English," he said to his friends. But somebody else exclaimed, "I don"t believe it. One of them is wearing a German hat."
Now, it happened that my father had returned from London wearing a felt hat of a shape which was then somewhat fashionable there, and which, curiously enough, was called the "Crown Prince," after the heir to the Prussian throne--that is, our Princess Royal"s husband, subsequently the Emperor Frederick. The National Guard, who spoke a little English, wished to inspect this incriminating hat, so my father took it off, and one of the Gendarmes, having placed it on his bayonet, pa.s.sed it to the man on the parapet. When the latter had read "Christy, London," on the lining, he once more testified in our favour.
But other fellows also wished to examine the suspicious headgear, and it pa.s.sed from hand to hand before it was returned to my father in a more or less damaged condition, Even then a good many men were not satisfied respecting our nationality, but during that incident of the hat--a laughable one to me nowadays, though everything looked very ugly when it occurred--there had been time for the men"s angry pa.s.sions to cool, to a considerable extent at all events; and after that serio-comical interlude, they were much less eager to inflict on us the summary law of Lynch. A further parley ensued, and eventually the Gendarmes, who still stood with bayonets crossed in front of us, were authorized, by decision of the Sovereign People, to take us to the Provost"s. Thither we went, then, amidst a perfect procession of watchful guards and civilians.
Directly we appeared before the Provost, I realized that our troubles were not yet over. Some changes had taken place during the retreat, and either the officer whom I remembered having seen at Le Mans (that is, Colonel Mora) had been replaced by another, or else the one before whom we now appeared was not the Provost-General, but only the Provost of the 18th Corps. At all events, he was a complete stranger to me. After hearing, first, the statements of the brigadier and the National Guard who had denounced us, and who had kept close to us all the time, and, secondly, the explanations supplied by my father and myself, he said to me, "If you had a staff permit to follow the army, somebody at headquarters must be able to identify you."