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My Days of Adventure

E >> Ernest Alfred Vizetelly >> My Days of Adventure




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 Chassillé and
Saint Jean-sur-Erve, that the 17th, after passing Conlie, should come
down to Sainte Suzanne, and that the 21st should proceed from Conlie to
Sillé-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 Mobilisés 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 passing
that way, provided themselves with new trousers, coats, boots, and
blankets, besides carrying off a quantity 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 quantity of military
_matériel_, 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 Jaurès reached Sillé-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 Sillé the previous afternoon, but such was the block on the line
that our train could get no farther than Voutré, 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 encumbering 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 (Jauréguiberry)--that
is, a detachment of 1100 men with a squadron of cavalry under General
Le Bouëdec--had been driven out of Chassillé 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,
Jauréguiberry 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 Jauréguiberry rode along our lines.
A shell 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 shell, 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 Thorigné-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 Jauréguiberry'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 scrap
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 surreptitiously 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
impassable, 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 Sévigné, and replete
with precious portraits of herself, her own and her husband's families, in
addition to a quantity 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 assembled 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 passport, I had somehow left my precious military
permit at Saint Servan, Further, my father carried with him some documents
which might have been deemed incriminating, They were, indeed,
safe-conducts signed by various German generals, which had been used by us
conjointly while passing, 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
passed, 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, passed 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
passed 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 passions 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."

"I think that might be done," I answered, "by Major-General Feilding,
who--as you must know--accompanies the army on behalf of the British
Government. Personally, I am known to several officers of the 21st Corps--
General Gougeard and his Chief of Staff, for instance--and also to some of
the aides-de-camp at headquarters."

"Well, get yourselves identified, and obtain a proper safe-conduct," said
the Provost. "Brigadier, you are to take these men to headquarters. If
they are identified there, you will let them go. If not, take them to the
château (the prison), and report to me."

Again we all set out, this time climbing the hilly ill-paved streets of
old Laval, above which the town's great feudal castle reared its dark,
round keep; and presently we came to the local college, formerly an
Ursuline convent, where Chanzy had fixed his headquarters.

In one of the large class-rooms were several officers, one of whom
immediately recognized me. He laughed when he heard our story. "I was
arrested myself, the other day," he said, "because I was heard speaking in
English to your General Feilding. And yet I was in uniform, as I am now."

The Gendarmes were promptly dismissed, though not before my father had
slipped something into the hand of the old brigadier for himself and his
comrades. Their firmness had saved us, for when a mob's passions are
inflamed by patriotic zeal, the worst may happen to the objects of its
wrath.

A proper safe-conduct (which I still possess) was prepared by an
aide-de-camp on duty, and whilst he was drafting it, an elderly but
bright-eyed officer entered, and went up to a large circular stove to warm
himself. Three small stars still glittered faintly on his faded cap,
and six rows of narrow tarnished gold braid ornamented the sleeves of his
somewhat shabby dolman. It was Chanzy himself.

He noticed our presence, and our case was explained to him. Looking at me
keenly, he said, "I think I have seen you before. You are the young
English correspondent who was allowed to make some sketches at
Yvré-l'Evêque, are you not?"

"Yes, _mon genéral_," I answered, saluting. "You gave me permission
through, I think, Monsieur le Commandant de Boisdeffre."

He nodded pleasantly as we withdrew, then lapsed into a thoughtful
attitude.

Out we went, down through old Laval and towards the new town, my father
carrying the safe-conduct in his hand. The Gendarmes must have already
told people that we were "all right," for we now encountered only pleasant
faces. Nevertheless, we handed the safe-conduct to one party of National
Guards for their inspection, in order that their minds might be quite at
rest. That occurred outside the hospital, where at that moment I little
imagined that a young Englishman--a volunteer in the Sixth Battalion of
the Côtes-du-Nord Mobile Guards (21st Army Corps)--was lying invalided by
a chill, which he had caught during an ascent in our army balloon with
Gaston Tissandier. Since then that young Englishman has become famous as
Field-Marshal Viscount Kitchener of Khartoum.

But the National Guards insisted on carrying my father and myself to the
chief café of Laval. They would take no refusal. In genuine French
fashion, they were all anxiety to offer some amends for their misplaced
patriotic impulsiveness that afternoon, when they had threatened, first,
to shoot, and, next, to drown us. In lieu thereof they now deluged us with
punch _à la française_, and as the café soon became crowded with other
folk who all joined our party, there ensued a scene which almost suggested
that some glorious victory had been gained at last by invaded and
unfortunate France.



XIII

THE BITTER END

Battues for Deserters--End of the Operations against Chanzy--Faidherbe's
Battles--Bourbaki's alleged Victories and Retreat--The Position in Paris--
The terrible Death Rate--State of the Paris Army--The Sanguinary Buzenval
Sortie--Towards Capitulation--The German Conditions--The Armistice
Provisions--Bourbaki's Disaster--Could the War have been prolonged?--The
Resources of France--The general Weariness--I return to Paris--The
Elections for a National Assembly--The Negotiations--The State of Paris--
The Preliminaries of Peace--The Triumphal Entry of the Germans--The War's
Aftermath.


We remained for a few days longer at Laval, and were not again interfered
with there. A painful interest attached to one sight which we witnessed
more than once. It was that of the many processions of deserters whom the
horse Gendarmerie of the headquarters staff frequently brought into the
town. The whole region was scoured for runaways, many of whom were found
in the villages and at lonely farms. They had generally cast off their
uniform and put on blouses, but the peasantry frequently betrayed them,
particularly as they seldom, if ever, had any money to spend in bribes.
Apart from those _battues_ and the measures of all kinds which Chanzy took
to reorganise his army, little of immediate import occurred at Laval.
Gambetta had been there, and had then departed for Lille in order to
ascertain the condition of Faidherbe's Army of the North. The German
pursuit of Chanzy's forces ceased virtually at Saint Jean-sur-Erve. There
was just another little skirmish at Sainte Mélaine, but that was all.
[I should add that on January 17 the Germans under Mecklenburg secured
possession of Alengon (Chanty's original objective) alter an ineffectual
resistance offered by the troops under Commandant Lipowski, who was
seconded in his endeavours by young M. Antonin Dubost, then Prefect of the
Orne, and recently President of the French Senate.] Accordingly my father
and I returned to Saint Servan, and, having conjointly prepared some
articles on Chanzy's retreat and present circumstances, forwarded them to
London for the _Pall Mall Gazette_.

The war was now fast drawing to an end. I have hitherto left several
important occurrences unmentioned, being unwilling to interrupt my
narrative of the fighting at Le Mans and the subsequent retreat. I feel,
however, that I now ought to glance at the state of affairs in other parts
of France. I have just mentioned that after visiting Chanzy at Laval
(January 19), Gambetta repaired to Lille to confer with Faidherbe. Let us
see, then, what the latter general had been doing. He was no longer
opposed by Manteuffel, who had been sent to the east of France in the hope
that he would deal more effectually than Werder with Bourbaki's army,
which was still in the field there. Manteuffel's successor in the north
was General von Goeben, with whom, on January 18, Faidherbe fought an
engagement at Vermand, followed on the morrow by the battle of Saint
Quentin, which was waged for seven hours amidst thaw and fog. Though it
was claimed as a French victory, it was not one. The Germans, it is true,
lost 2500 men, but the French killed and wounded amounted to 3500, and
there were thousands of men missing, the Germans taking some 5000
prisoners, whilst other troops disbanded much as Chanzy's men disbanded
during his retreat. From a strategical point of view the action at Saint
Quentin was indecisive.

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