The Invasion of France in 1814 by Erckmann-Chatrian

  CHAPTER III

  AT PHALSBOURG

  The next day at dawn, Hullin, wearing his blue cloth Sunday breeches,his large brown velvet jacket and red waistcoat with brass buttons, anda broad beaver mountaineer's hat turned up like a cockade above hisruddy face--started on his way to Phalsbourg, a stout stick in his hand.

  Phalsbourg is a small fortress, half-way on the imperial road fromStrasbourg to Paris; it dominates Saverne, the defiles of Haut-Barr,Roche-Platte, Bonne-Fontaine, and of the Graufthal. Its bastions,outposts, and demilunes are cut out in zig-zags on a rocky plain: fromafar, the walls look as though they might be cleared at a jump; but oncoming closer one perceives the moat, a hundred feet wide, thirty deep,and the dark ramparts hewn in the face of the rock. That makes onestop suddenly. Besides, with the exception of the church, thetown-hall, the two gateways of France and Germany, in shape of mitres,and the peaks of the two powder-magazines, all the rest is hiddenbehind the fortifications. Such is Phalsbourg, which is not without acertain imposing effect, especially when one crosses its bridges andpiers, under its thick gates, garnished with iron-spiked portcullis.In the interior, the houses are distributed in regular quarters; theyare low, in straight lines, built of freestone: everything bears amilitary aspect.

  Hullin, owing to his robust constitution and jovial disposition, neverhad any fears for the future, and considered all rumors of retreat,rout, and invasion, which circulated in the country, as so many liespropagated by dishonest individuals; so that one may judge of hisstupefaction when, on leaving the mountains and from the outskirts ofthe woods, he saw the whole surroundings of the town laid as bare as apontoon: not a garden, not an orchard, not a promenade, or a tree, oreven a shrub--all was destroyed within cannon-range. A few poorcreatures were picking up the last remnants of their little houses, andcarrying them into the town. Nothing was to be seen on the horizon butthe line of ramparts standing out clearly above the hidden roads. Ithad the effect of a thunder-bolt on Jean-Claude.

  For some moments he could neither articulate a word nor make a stepforward.

  "Oh, ho!" said he, at last, "this is bad--this is very bad. Theyexpect the enemy."

  Then his warlike instincts prevailed; a dark flush came over his browncheeks. "It is those rascally Austrians, Prussians, and Russians, andall the other wretches picked up out of the dregs of Europe, who arethe cause of this," cried he, waving his stick. "But beware! we willmake them pay for the damages!"

  He was possessed with one of those white rages such as honest peoplefeel when they are driven to extremities. Woe to him who annoyedHullin just then!

  Twenty minutes later he entered the town, at the rear of a long file ofcarriages, each harnessed to five or six horses, pulling, with muchtrouble, enormous trunks of trees, destined to construct block-houseson the _place-d'armes_. Among the conductors, the peasants, andneighing, stamping horses, marched gravely a mounted _gendarme_--FatherKels--who did not seem to hear anything, and said, in a rough voice,"Courage, courage, my friends! We will make two more journeys beforeevening. You will have deserved well of your country!"

  Jean-Claude crossed the bridge.

  A new spectacle opened before him in the town. There reigned the ardorof defence: all the doors were open; men, women, and children came andran, helping to transport the powder and projectiles. They stopped ingroups of three, four, six, to make themselves acquainted with the news.

  "He neighbor!"

  "What then?"

  "A courier has just arrived in great speed. He entered by the Frenchgate."

  "Then he has come to announce the National Guard from Nancy."

  "Or, perhaps, a convoy from Metz."

  "You are right. We want sixteen-pounders, and shot also. The stovesare to be broken up to make some."

  A few worthy tradespeople in their shirt-sleeves, standing on tablesalong the pavement, were busying themselves with barricading theirwindows with large pieces of wood and mattresses; others rolled up totheir doors tubs of water. This enthusiasm reanimated Hullin.

  "Excellent!" said he; "everybody is making holiday here. The allieswill be well received."

  In front of the College, the squeaky voice of the Sergeant-de-villeHarmentier was proclaiming:--

  "Let it be known that the casemates are to be opened: thereforeeverybody may take a mattress there, and two blankets each. And thecommissaries of this place are going to commence their rounds ofinspection, to ascertain that each inhabitant possesses food for threemonths in advance, which he must certify.--This day, 20th December,1813.--JEAN PIERRE MEUNIER, _Governor_."

  All this Hullin saw and heard in less than a minute, for the whole townwas in the greatest excitement. Strange, serious, and comic scenessucceeded each other without interruption.

  Near the narrow street leading to the Arsenal, a few National Guardswere drawing a twenty-four pounder. These honest fellows had a verysteep ascent to climb; they could do no more. "Ho! all together!Mille tonnerres! Once again! Forward!" They all shouted at once,pushing the wheels, and the great cannon, stretching out its long neckover its immense carriage, above their heads, rolled slowly along,making the pavement tremble.

  Hullin, quite rejoiced, was no longer the same man. His soldier-likeinstincts, the remembrance of the bivouac, of the marches, of thefiring, and of the battles--all returned. His eyes sparkled, his heartbeat faster, and already thoughts of defence, of entrenchments, ofdeath-struggles came and went in his head.

  "Faith!" said he, "all goes well! I have made enough shoes in my life,and since the occasion to take up the musket presents itself, well, somuch the better: we will show the Prussians and Austrians that we havenot forgotten to charge at the double."

  Thus reasoned the good man, carried away by his warlike instincts; buthis joy did not last long.

  Before the church, on the _place-d'armes_, were standing fifteen ortwenty carts, full of wounded, arrived from Leipzig and Hanau. Theseunhappy creatures, pale, ghastly, heavy-eyed, some whose limbs werealready amputated, others with their wounds still untouched, tranquillyawaited death. Near them, a few worn-out jades were eating theirmeagre allowance, while the conductors, poor wretches, who had beenbrought into requisition in Alsace, wrapped in their old mantles, sleptnotwithstanding the cold--their great hats turned down over their facesand their arms folded--on the steps of the church. One shuddered tosee these sad groups of men, with their gray hoods, heaped up on thebloody straw--one carrying his broken arm on his knees; another withhis head bandaged in an old handkerchief; a third, already dead, beingused as a seat for the living, his black hands hanging down the ladder.Hullin, in front of this mournful spectacle, stopped rooted to theground. He could not lift his eyes from it. Great human suffering hasthis strange power of fascination over us: we look to see men perish,how they regard death: the best among us are not exempt from thisfrightful curiosity. It seems as though eternity is going to deliverup its secret!

  There, then, near the shafts of the first cart, to the right of thefile, were crouched two carbineers in little sky-blue vests, veritablegiants, whose powerful natures gave way under the clutch of pain: liketwo caryatides crushed by the weight of some heavy mass. One, withgreat red mustaches and ashy cheeks, looked at you out of his sunkeneyes, as though from the depths of some fearful nightmare; the other,bent double, with blue hands, and shoulder torn by shot, sank more andmore; then would raise himself with a jerk, talking softly as thoughdreaming. Behind lay stretched, two and two, some infantry soldiers,the greater number struck by ball, with a leg or an arm broken. Theyseemed to support their fate with more firmness than the giants. Thesepoor creatures said nothing: a few only, the youngest, furiouslydemanded water and bread; and in the next cart, a plaintive voice--thevoice of a conscript--called, "My mother! my mother!" while the oldermen smiled gloomily, as though to say: "Yes, yes, she will come, thymother!" Perhaps they did not think of anything all the time.

  Now and then a shudder would pass along the whole of them. Thenseve
ral wounded could be seen half lifting themselves, with deepgroans, and falling back as if death had gone its rounds at that moment.

  And again everything relapsed into silence. While Hullin was watching,and feeling sick to his heart's core, a shopkeeper in the vicinity,Some the baker, came out of his house carrying a large basin of soup.Then you should have seen all these spectres move, their eyes sparkle,their nostrils dilate; they seemed born again. The unhappy fellowswere dying of hunger!

  Good Father Some, with tears in his eyes, approached, saying, "I amcoming, my children. A little patience! It is I, you know me!"

  But hardly was he near the first cart, when the great carbineer withthe ashy cheeks, reviving, plunged his arm up to the elbow in theboiling basin, seized the meat, and hid it under his vest. It was donewith the rapidity of lightning. Savage yells arose on all sides: thosemen, if they had had strength to move, would have devoured theircomrade. He, his arms pressed tightly to his chest, the teeth on hasprey, and glaring round him, appeared to hear nothing. At these criesan old soldier, a sergeant, rushed out of the nearest inn. He was anold hand; he understood at once what it was about, and, without uselessreflections, he tore away the meat from the wild beast, saying to him,"Thou dost not deserve any! It must be divided into parts. We willcut ten rations!"

  "We are only eight!" said one of the wounded, very calm to allappearance, but with eyes gleaming out of their bronze mask.

  "How, eight?"

  "You can see, sergeant, that those two are dying fast: it would be somuch food lost!"

  The old sergeant looked.

  "Eight," said he; "eight rations!"

  Hullin could bear it no longer. He went over to the innkeeperWittmann's opposite, as white as death; Wittmann was also a fur andleather merchant. Seeing him enter, "He! is it you, MasterJean-Claude?" he exclaimed. "You arrive sooner than usual; I did notexpect you till next week." Then seeing how he staggered--"But say,you are ill?"

  "I have just seen the wounded."

  "Ah, yes! the first time, it shocks you; but if you had seen fifteenthousand pass, as we have, you would not think anything more about it."

  "A glass of wine, quick?" said Hullin, who felt badly. "Oh, mankind,mankind! And to think that we are brothers!"

  "Yes, brothers until it touches your purse," replied Wittmann. "Come,drink! that will set you right."

  "And you have seen fifteen thousand go by?" rejoined the shoemaker.

  "At the least, for two months, without speaking of those who haveremained in Alsace and the other side of the Rhine; for, youcomprehend, they cannot find carts enough for all, and then many arenot worth the trouble of being carried away."

  "Yes, I comprehend! But why are they there, those poor creatures? Whydo they not go into the hospital?"

  "The hospital! What is one hospital, ten hospitals, for fifty thousandwounded? Every hospital, from Mayence and Coblentz as far asPhalsbourg, is crowded. And, besides, that terrible fever, typhus, yousee, Hullin, kills more than the bullet. All the villages of the plaintwenty leagues round are infected with it; they die everywhere likeflies. Luckily the town has been in a state of siege these three days;the gates will be closed, and no more will enter. I have lost, for mypart, my Uncle Christian and my Aunt Lisbeth, as healthy, solid peopleas you and I, Master Jean-Claude. At last the cold has arrived; lastnight there was a white frost."

  "And the wounded remained on the pavements all night?"

  "No, they came from Saverne this morning; in an hour or two, when thehorses are rested, they will leave for Sarrebourg."

  At that moment, the old sergeant, who had re-established order in thecarts, came in rubbing his hands.

  "He! he!" said he, "it freshens, Papa Wittmann. You did well to lightthe fire in the stove. A little glass of cognac to drive away the fog.Hum! hum!"

  His small half-closed eyes, his beaked nose, the cheek-bones beingseparated from it by two flourishing wrinkles, which were lost to sightin a long reddish imperial--everything looked gay in his face, and toldof a jovial, kind disposition. It was a regular military face,scorched, burnt by the open air, full of frankness, but also of acheery slyness; his great shako, his blue-gray cloak, theshoulder-belt, the epaulette, seemed to partake of his individuality.One could not have represented him without them. He walked up and downthe room, continuing to rub his hands, while Wittmann poured him aglass of brandy. Hullin, seated near the window, had at once noticedthe number of his regiment--6th Light Infantry. Gaspard, the son ofMadame Lefevre, served in this regiment. Jean-Claude could now obtainsome tidings of the lover of Louise; but, as he was going to speak, hisheart beat loud. If Gaspard was dead; if he had perished like so manyothers!

  The worthy shoemaker felt nearly suffocated; he kept silent. "Betterto know nothing," thought he. However, a few minutes later, he coulddo so no longer. "Sergeant," said he, in a hoarse voice, "you are inthe 6th Light Infantry?"

  "Yes, my citizen," said the other, turning round in the middle of theroom.

  "Do you know one called Gaspard Lefevre?"

  "Gaspard Lefevre, of the 2d division of the 1st? Parbleu, if I knowhim! It is I who taught him his drill. A brave soldier! hardenedagainst fatigue. If we had a hundred thousand of that stamp----"

  "Then he lives? he is well?"

  "Yes, citizen. Eight days ago I left the regiment at Fredericsthal toescort this convoy of wounded. You understand, it is hot there--onecannot answer for anything. From one moment to the other, each of usmay have his business settled for him. But eight days ago, atFredericsthal--the 15th December--Gaspard Lefevre still answered to theroll-call."

  Jean-Claude breathed. "But then, sergeant, have the goodness to tellme why Gaspard has not written to his village for two months?"

  The old soldier smiled, and blinked his little eyes. "Ah! now,citizen, do you then believe that one has nothing else to do on themarch but to write?"

  "No. I have served; I was in the campaigns of Sambre-et-Meuse, ofEgypt and Italy, but that did not prevent me from giving some news ofmyself."

  "One instant, comrade," interrupted the sergeant. "I have passedthrough Egypt and Italy also; the campaign we are finishing isaltogether different."

  "It has then been very severe?"

  "Severe! one must have one's soul driven into every part of one'smembers, so as not to leave one's bones there. All was against us:sickness, traitors, peasants, townsfolk, our allies--in fact all! Fromour company, which was complete when we quitted Phalsbourg, the 21st oflast January, only thirty-four men remain. I believe Gaspard Lefevreis the only conscript left. Those poor conscripts! they fought well;but they were not accustomed to endure hardships: they melted likebutter in an oven." So saying, the old sergeant approached the counterand drank his glass off at one draught. "To your health, my citizen.Are you perchance the father of Gaspard?"

  "No, I am a relation."

  "Well, you can pride yourselves on being stoutly built in your family.What a man at twenty! He has gone through everything--he has, whilethe others fell away in dozens."

  "But," rejoined Hullin, after an instant's silence, "I cannot seeanything so very different in this last campaign; for we also hadsickness and traitors."

  "Anything different!" exclaimed the sergeant. "Everything wasdifferent! Formerly, if you have gone through the war in Germany, youought to remember that, after one or two victories, it was over: thepeople received you well; one drank the little white wines, and atesauerkraut and ham with the townsfolk; one danced with the buxom wives.The husbands and grandpapas laughed heartily, and when the regimentleft, everybody cried. But this time, after Lutzen and Bautzen,instead of feeling kindly, the people regarded us with diabolicalfaces; we could get nothing out of them but by force; one could havefancied one's self in Spain or Vendee. I do not know what stuff theyhad in their heads against us. Better had we only been French, had wenot had Saxons and other allies, who only awaited the moment to springat our throats: we should then have pulled through
all the same, oneagainst five! But the allies--don't talk to me of the allies! Why, atLeipzig, the 18th of October last, in the hottest part of the battle,our allies turned against us and shot at us from behind; those were ourgood friends the Saxons. A week later, our former friends theBavarians came and threw themselves across our retreat: we had to passover them at Hanau. The day after, near Frankfort, another column ofgood friends presented themselves, and we had to crush them. The moreone kills, the more they come! Here we are now this side of the Rhine.Well, there are decidedly more of these good friends marching fromMoscow. Ah! if we could have foreseen it after Austerlitz, Jena,Friedland, Wagram!"

  Hullin had become very thoughtful. "And now how do we stand, sergeant?"

  "We have had to repass the Rhine, and all our strongholds on the otherside are blockaded. The 10th of November last the Prince of Neufchatelreviewed the regiment at Bleckheim. The 3d battalion had beenamalgamated with the 2d, and the 'cadre' received orders to be inreadiness to leave for the depot. Cadres are not wanting, but men. Asfor twenty years we have been bled on all sides, it is not astonishing.All Europe is down upon us. The Emperor is at Paris; he is laying downa plan of the campaign. If we may only have breathing time till thespring----"

  Just then Wittmann, who was standing by the window, said,--"Here is thegovernor come from inspecting the clearings around the town."

  It was the commandant, Jean-Pierre Meunier, wearing a three-corneredhat, and a tricolor scarf around his waist, who crossed over the square.

  "Ah," said the sergeant, "I must get him to sign my papers. Pardon,citizen; I must leave you."

  "Do so, sergeant; and thank you. If you meet Gaspard, tell him thatJean-Claude Hullin embraces him, and that they expect tidings from himin the village."

  "Good--good. I will not fail to do so."

  The sergeant went out, and Hullin finished his wine in a reverie.

  "Father Wittmann," said he, after a pause, "what of my parcel?"

  "It is ready, Master Jean-Claude." Then, looking into the kitchen,"Gredel! Gredel! bring Hullin's parcel."

  A little woman appeared, and put down on the table a roll ofsheepskins. Jean-Claude passed his stick through it, and lifted itover his shoulder.

  "What, you are going to leave us so soon?"

  "Yes, Wittmann. The days are short, and the roads difficult throughthe forests after six o'clock. I must get back early."

  "Then a safe journey to you, Master Jean-Claude."

  Hullin left, and crossed the square, turning away his face from theconvoy, which still remained before the church.

  The innkeeper from his window watched him hurrying away, and thought tohimself, "How white he looked on entering; he could hardly keepupright. It is queer that such a sturdy man, and an old soldier too,should not have energy enough for a cat. As for me, I would see fiftyregiments go by on those carts without minding it any more than I didmy first pipe."