The Invasion of France in 1814 by Erckmann-Chatrian
CHAPTER VII
RISING OF THE PARTISANS
From midnight till six in the morning a flame shone through thedarkness on the summit of the Falkenstein, and the whole mountain wason the alert.
All the friends of Hullin, Marc Dives, and of Mother Lefevre, theirlong gaiters on their legs and old muskets on their shoulders,journeyed, through the silent woods, toward the gorges of the Valtin.The thought of the enemy traversing the plains of Alsace to surprisethe passes, was present to the minds of all. The tocsins of Dagsburg,Abreschwiller, Walsch, and St. Quirin, and of all the other villages,began to call the defenders of the country to arms.
Now you must picture to yourself the Jaegerthal, at the foot of the oldcastle, in unusually snowy weather, at that early hour when the clumpsof trees begin to creep out of the shadow, and when the extreme cold ofnight softens at the approach of day. Picture, also, to yourself theold Sawyerie, with its flat roof, its heavy wheel burdened withicicles, the low interior dimly lit up by a pine-wood fire, whose blazefades away in the glimmer of the coming dawn; and, around the fire, furbonnets, caps, and black profiles, gazing one over the other, andsqueezing close together like a wall; and farther on, in the woods,more fires lighting up groups of men and women squatting in the snow.
The agitation began to decrease. As the sky became grayer the peoplerecognized each other.
"Ah, it is Cousin Daniel of Soldatenthal. You have come too?"
"Yes, as you see, Heinrich, with my wife also."
"What, Cousin Nanette! Where is she?"
"Down there, near the old oak, by Uncle Hans' fire."
They shook hands. Many could be heard yawning loudly: others threw onthe fire bits of planks. The gourds went round; some retired from thecircles to make room for their shivering neighbors. Meanwhile thecrowd began to grow impatient.
"Ah," cried some, "we did not come here only to get our feet warmed.It is time to see and come to an understanding."
"Yes, yes! Let them hold a council, and name the chiefs."
"No; everybody is not yet arrived. See, there are more coming fromDagsburg and St. Quirin."
Indeed, the lighter it became, the more people could be seen hasteningalong all the mountain paths. At that time there must have been manyhundreds of men in the valley--wood-cutters, charcoal-burners,raftsmen--without counting the women and children.
Nothing could be more picturesque than that gathering in the midst ofthe snows, in the depths of the defile, closed in as it was by tallpines losing themselves in the clouds. To the right, the valleysopening away into each other as far as the eye could reach; to theleft, the ruins of the Falkenstein rising into the sky. From adistance one would have said it was a flock of cranes settled on theice; but, nearer, these hardy men could be distinguished, with stiffbeards bristling like a boar, gloomy fierce eyes, broad squareshoulders, and horny hands. Some few, taller than the rest, belongedto the fiery race of red men, white-skinned, and hairy to the tips oftheir fingers, with strength enough to pull an oak up by the roots.Among this number was old Materne of Hengst, with his two sons Kasperand Frantz. These sturdy fellows--all three armed with little riflesfrom Innsprueck--having blue cloth gaiters with leathern buttonsreaching above their knees, their loins girdled with goat-skin, andtheir felt hats coming down low over their necks--did not deign toapproach the fire. For an hour they had been sitting on a trunk by theriver-side, on the watch, with their feet in the snow. From time totime the old man would say to his sons, "What do they shiver for overthere? I never knew a milder night for the season: it is nothing--therivers are not even touched."
All the forest-hunters of the country passing by came to shake handswith them, then congregated round them and formed a circle apart.These fellows spoke little, being used to silence for whole days andnights, for fear of frightening away their game.
Marc Dives, standing in the middle of another group, a head taller thanany of them, spoke and gesticulated--pointing now to one part of themountain, now to another. In front of him was the old herdsmanLagarmitte, with his large gray smock, a long bark trumpet on hisshoulder, and his dog at his feet. He listened to the smuggler,open-mouth, and kept on bowing his head. The others all seemedattentive: they were composed of charcoal-burners and wood-carriers,with whom the smuggler had daily intercourse.
Between the saw-mills and the first fire, on the bridge over the dam,sat the bootmaker Jerome of St. Quirin--a man of from fifty to sixtyyears of age, with a long brown face, hollow eyes, big nose--his earscovered with a badger-skin cap--and a yellow beard reaching to hiswaist in a peak. His hands, enveloped in great green woollen gloves,were clasped over an immense stick of knotty service-tree. He wore along sackcloth hood; and might easily have been taken for a hermit. Atevery rumor that arose, Father Jerome would slowly turn his head, andtry to catch what it was, frowning.
Jean Labarbe, grasping his axe, remained immovable. He was awhite-faced man, with an aquiline nose and thin lips. He exercisedgreat influence over the men of Dagsburg, owing to his resolution andthe clearness of his ideas. When they shouted around him, "We mustdeliberate; we cannot stay here doing nothing," he simply contentedhimself with saying, "Let us wait: Hullin has not arrived, norCatherine Lefevre. There is no hurry." Everybody then was silenced,and looked impatiently toward the path from Charmes.
The sawyer Piorette--a small, brisk, thin, energetic man, whose blackeyebrows met above his eyes--stood on the threshold of his hut, withhis pipe between his teeth, contemplating the general appearance ofthis scene.
Meanwhile, the impatience increased every moment. Some villagemayors--in square-cut coats and three-cornered hats--advanced in thedirection of the saw-mills, calling on their communes to come anddecide what was to be done. Most fortunately, at last CatherineLefevre's cart appeared, and a thousand enthusiastic shouts arose onall sides:
"There they are! they come!"
Old Materne gravely mounted on a trunk and quietly descended, saying,"It is they."
Great agitation showed itself. The farthest groups gathered togetherin one crowd. A sort of impatient shiver passed over the mass.Scarcely has the old farmer's wife become visible, whip in hand, on herstraw box with little Louise, than from all parts came cries of "Vivela France! Vive la mere Catherine!"
Hullin, who had remained behind, his broad hat pushed back, his musketslung across his shoulder, was now crossing the meadow of Eichmath,distributing vigorous shakes of the hand: "Good-day, Daniel; good-day,Colon. Good-day--good-day!"
"Ah! it is going to be warm, Hullin."
"Yes--yes; we are going to hear the chestnuts popping this winter.Good-day, my old Jerome! We have serious business on hand."
"Yes, Jean-Claude. We must hope to pull through it by the grace ofGod."
Catherine, on arriving at the saw-works, told Labarbe to set on theground a keg of brandy which she had brought away from the farm, and toget a jug from the sawyer's cottage.
Soon after, Hullin, coming up to the fire, met Materne and his two sons.
"You have come late," said the old hunter.
"Ah! yes. What was to be done? I had to descend the Falkenstein, getmy gun, and start the women. But as we are now here, let us lose nomore time; Lagarmitte, blow thy horn, so that all the men may assemble.The first thing is to appoint the leaders."
Lagarmitte blew his long trumpet, his cheeks puffed out to his ears:then those who were still on the hill-sides or paths hastened theirpace to be in time. Soon all those brave fellows were assembled infront of the saw-works. Hullin got up on a pile of tree-trunks, andlooking seriously upon the crowd, said, amidst deep silence: "The enemycrossed the Rhine the day before yesterday: they are marching over themountain into Lorraine: Strasbourg and Huningue are blockaded. We mayexpect to see the Germans and Prussians in three or four days."
There was a loud shout of "Vive la France!"
THERE WAS A GENERAL SHOUT OF "LONG LIVE FRANCE!"]
"Yes, vive la France!" continued Hullin; "for i
It would be impossible to depict the savage fierceness of the audienceat that moment.
"That is what I had to tell you," cried Hullin, quite white. "Sinceyou are here, it can only be to fight."
"Yes, yes."
"It is well; but listen to me. I will be open with you. Among you arefathers of families. We shall be one against ten, against fifty: wemust expect to perish. So let the men who have not reflected on it,who feel they have not heart to do their duty to the end, go--none willtake notice of them. Each man is free."
Then he paused and looked around him. Everybody remained stationary:then with a firmer voice, he concluded thus: "No one goes away; you areall, all resolved to fight. Well, I am rejoiced to see there is notone coward among us. Now a leader must be chosen. In great dangers,the first thing is order and discipline. The leader you are going toname will have the right of commanding and being obeyed. So reflectseriously, for on that man will hang the fate of you all."
So saying, Jean-Claude descended from the tree-trunk, and the agitationbecame extreme. Every village deliberated apart by itself--every mayorproposed his friend--and the hours wore on. Catherine Lefevre wasburning with impatience. At length she could no longer containherself, and standing up on her bench, signed that she was going tospeak.
Catherine was held in great esteem. At first only a few, then a largernumber approached to know what she wished to communicate.
"My friends," said she, "we are losing time. What do you wish for? Atrustworthy man, is it not so? a soldier--a man who has seen service,and who knows how to profit by our positions? Well, why do you notchoose Hullin? Can any one find a better? If so, let him speak, andwe will decide. I propose Jean-Claude Hullin. He! do you hear--overthere? If this continues, the Austrians will have arrived before aleader has been decided on."
"Yes,--yes! Hullin!" shouted Labarbe, Dives, Jerome, and severalothers. "Let us see how many are for and against him."
Then Marc Dives, clambering on to the trunks, cried out in a voice likethunder: "Those who do not want Jean-Claude Hullin for leader must liftup their hands."
Not one hand was uplifted.
"Those who want Jean-Claude Hullin for their leader must raise theirhands."
Every hand was put up.
"Jean-Claude," said the smuggler, "mount up here, look--they havechosen you for their leader."
Master Jean-Claude having done so, saw he was named, and saidimmediately in a stern voice: "Good! you name me to be your chief. Iaccept! Let Materne the elder, Labarbe of Dagsburg, Jerome of St.Quirin, Marc Dives, Piorette the sawyer, and Catherine Lefevre, comeinto the saw-works. We are going to take counsel. In a quarter of anhour or twenty minutes, I shall give my orders. Meanwhile, eachvillage must put two men under the orders of Marc Dives, to fetchpowder and ball from the Falkenstein."