Part 5

As to the _plebiscite_, I won't talk to you about that; those things did not worry us foresters much. One fine morning we received the order to go to the Petite Pierre, and all the brigade, after assembling at my house, left together in their holiday clothes to vote; yes, as we had been ordered to do. Then, stopping at the inn of the Three Pigeons, we drank a bumper to the Emperor's health, after which every one went home and never thought of it any more.

The people complained of but one thing at Graufthal, Dosenheim, and Echbourg, and that was the lack of rain. But in the depths of the valleys dry weather was always the most beautiful and the richest; we never lacked moisture; the grass grew in abundance, and all the birds in Alsace, blackbirds, thrushes, bullfinches, and wood pigeons, with their young nestlings, enjoyed themselves with us as if in an aviary.

It was also the best time one could wish for fishing, for when the waters were low all the trout ascended to the springs beneath the rocks, where one could take them out in one's hand.

You may well believe that there was no lack of fishermen. Marie-Rose had never before had as many omelettes and fried dishes to prepare. She superintended everything and answered the compliments made to her upon her approaching marriage without stopping her work. She looked as fresh as a rose; merely looking at her, Jean Merlin's eyes grew moist with tenderness.

Who would have imagined at that time that we were going to have a war with the Prussians? What interest had we in that? Beside, did not every one say that the _plebiscite_ had been voted to keep peace? Such an idea had never entered our heads, when, one July evening, the little Jew, David, who had been to Dosenheim to buy a calf, said to me as he passed:

"You have heard the great news, brigadier?"

"No; what is it?"

"Well, the Paris newspapers say that the Emperor is about to declare war upon the King of Prussia."

I could not believe it, because the wood-merchant Schatner, who had returned a few days before from Sarrebrueck, had told me that the country thereabouts was swarming with troops, cavalry, infantry, artillery, and that even the citizens had their knapsacks, their guns, and their complete outfits, ticketed and numbered, all arranged in good order on shelves in large barracks, and that at the first sign of the _hauptmann_ these people would have nothing to do but to dress themselves, receive cartridges, get into a railway car, and fall upon our backs _en masse_. As for us, we had nothing at all, either in our towns or our villages, so simple good sense made me think that they would not declare war on these Germans before having put us in a condition to defend ourselves.

So I shrugged my shoulders when the Jew told me such an absurd thing, and I said:

"Do you take the Emperor for a fool?"

But he went off, dragging his calf by the rope, and saying:

"Wait a bit, brigadier; you will see--this won't last long."

All that he could say on that score came to the same thing, and when Jean Merlin came that evening, as usual, it never occurred to me to tell him about it.

Unfortunately, eight or ten days later, the thing was certain; they were calling in all soldiers away on leave of absence. It was even stated that the Bavarians had cut the telegraph wires in Alsace--that innumerable troops were passing Saverne, and that others were encamped at Niederbronn.

*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 Frohmuehle 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 Dosenheim.

"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 Fromuehle, 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, Wuertemburgers, 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'armes_ in 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!"