The Erckmann-Chatrian Megapack: 20 Classic Novels and Short Stories

by Émile Erckmann

  “Yes, at ordinary times; but not now.”

  Then I advanced, asking: “Monsieur offers twenty francs to go what distance?”

  “To Sarrebourg,” said the stranger, astonished to see me.

  “If you will say thirty, I will undertake to convey you there. I am a miller; I always want my horses; there are no others in the village.”

  “Well, do; put in your horses.”

  These thirty francs for eight leagues had flashed upon me. My wife had just come down into the kitchen, and I told her of it; she thought I was doing right.

  Having then eaten a mouthful, with a glass of wine, I went out to harness my horses to my light cart. The Parisian was already there waiting for me, his leather portmanteau in his hand. I threw into the cart a bundle of straw; he sat down near me, and we went off at a trot.

  This stranger seeing my dappled grays galloping through the mud, seemed pleased. First he asked me the news of our part of the country, which I told him from the beginning. Then in his turn he began to tell me a good deal that was not yet known by us. He composed gazettes; he was one of those who followed the Emperor to record his victories. He was coming from Metz, and told me that General Frossard had just lost a great battle at Forbach, through his own fault in not being in the field while his troops were fighting, but being engaged at billiards instead.

  You may be sure I felt that to be impossible; it would be too abominable; but the Parisian said so it was, and so have many repeated since.

  “So that the Prussians,” said he, “broke through us, and I have had to lose a horse to get out of the confusion: the Uhlans were pursuing; they followed nearly to a place called Droulingen.”

  “That is only four leagues from this place,” said I. “Are they already there?”

  “Yes; but they fell back immediately to rejoin the main body, which is advancing upon Toul. I had hoped to recover lost ground by telling of our victories in Alsace; unfortunately at Droulingen, the sad news of Reichshoffen,* and the alarm of the flying inhabitants, have informed me that we are driven in along our whole line; there is no doubt these Prussians are strong; they are very strong. But the Emperor will arrange all that with Bismarck!”

  * Called generally by us, the Battle of Woerth.

  Then he told me there was an understanding between the Emperor and Bismarck; that the Prussians would take Alsace; that they would give us Belgium in exchange; that we should pay the expenses of the war, and then things would all return into their old routine.

  “His Majesty is indisposed,” said he, “and has need of rest; we shall soon have Napoleon IV., with the regency of her Majesty the Empress, the French are fond of change.”

  Thus spoke this newspaper-writer, who had been decorated, who can tell why? He thought of nothing but of getting safe into Sarrebourg, to catch the train, and send a letter to his paper; nothing else mattered to him. It is well that I had taken a pair of horses, for it went on raining. Suddenly we came upon the rear of De Failly’s army; his guns, powder-wagons, and his regiments so crowded the road, that I had to take to the fields, my wheels sinking in up to the axle-trees.

  Nearing Sarrebourg, we saw also on our left the rear of the other routed army, the Turcos, the Zouaves, the chasseurs, the long trains of MacMahon’s guns; so that we were between the two fugitive routs: De Failly’s troops, by their disorder, looked just as if they had been defeated, like the other army. All the people who have seen this in our country can confirm my account, though it seems incredible.

  At last, I arrived at the Sarrebourg station, when the Parisian paid me thirty francs, which my horses had fairly earned. The families of all the railway employés were just getting into the train for Paris; and you may be sure that this Government newspaper-writer was delighted to find himself there. He had his free pass: but for that the unlucky man would have had to stay against his will; like many others who at the present time are boasting loudly of having made a firm stand, waiting for the enemy.

  I quickly started home again by cross-roads, and about twelve I reached Rothalp. The artillery was thundering amongst the mountains; crowds of people were climbing and running down the little hill near the church to listen to the distant roar. Cousin George was calmly smoking his pipe at the window, looking at all these people coming and going.

  “What is going on?” said I, stopping my cart before his door.

  “Nothing,” said he; “only the Prussians attacking the little fort of Lichtenberg. But where are you coming from?”

  “From Sarrebourg.”

  And I related to him in a few words what the Parisian had told me.

  “Ah! now it is all plain,” said he. “I could not understand why the 5th corps was filing off into Lorraine, without making one day’s stand in our mountains, which are so easily defended: it did really seem too cowardly. But now that Frossard is beaten at Forbach, the thing is explained: our flank is turned. De Failly is afraid of being taken between two victorious armies. He has only to gain ground, for the cattle-dealer David has just told me that he has seen Uhlans behind Fénétrange. The line of the Vosges is surrendered; and we owe this misfortune to Monsieur Frossard, tutor to the Prince Imperial!”

  The school-master, Adam Fix, was then coming down from the hill with his wife, and cried that a battle was going on near Bitche. He did not stop, on account of the rain. George told me to listen a few minutes. We could hear deep and distant reports of heavy guns, and others not so loud.

  “Those heavy reports,” said George, “come from the great siege-guns of the fort; the others are the enemy’s lighter artillery. At this moment, the German army, at six leagues from us, victorious in Alsace, is on the road from Woerth to Siewettler, to unite with the army that is moving on Metz; it is defiling past the guns of the fort. To-morrow we shall see their advanced guard march past us. It is a melancholy story, to be defeated through the fault of an imbecile and his courtiers; but we must always remember, as a small consolation, to every man his turn.” He began again to smoke, and I went on my way home, where I put up my horses. I had earned my thirty francs in six hours; but this did not give me complete satisfaction. My wife and Grédel were also on the hill listening to the firing; half the village were up there; and all at once I saw Placiard, who could not be found the day before, jumping through the gardens, puffing and panting for breath.

  “You hear, Monsieur le Maire,” he cried—“you hear the battle? It is King Victor Emmanuel coming to our help with a hundred and fifty thousand men!”

  At this I could no longer contain myself, and I cried, “Monsieur Placiard, if you take me for a fool, you are quite mistaken; and if you are one, you had better hold your tongue. It is no use any longer telling these poor people false news, as you have been doing for eighteen years, to keep up their hopes to the last moment. This will never more bring tobacco-excise to you, and stamp-offices to your sons. The time for play-acting is over. You are telling me this through love of lying; but I have had enough of all these abominable tricks; I now see things clearly. We have been plundered from end to end by fellows of your sort, and now we are going to pay for you, without having had any benefit ourselves. If the Prussians become our masters, if they bestow places and salaries, you will be their best friend; you will denounce the patriots in the commune, and you will have them to vote plébiscites for Bismarck! What does it matter to you whether you are a Frenchman or a German? Your true lord, your true king, your true emperor, is the man who pays!”

  As fast as I spoke my wrath increased, and all at once I shouted: “Wait, Monsieur l’Adjoint, wait till I come out; I will pay you off for the Emperor, for his Ministers, and all the infamous crew of your sort who have brought the Prussians into France!” But I had scarcely reached the door, when he had already turned the corner.

  CHAPTER VII

  On that day we had yet more alarms.

  Between one and two o’clock, standing before my mill, I fancied I could hear a drum beating up the valley. All the village was lamenting,
and crying, “Here are the Prussians!”

  All along the street, people were coming out, gazing, listening; boys ran into the woods, mothers screamed. A few men more fearful than the rest went off too, each with a loaf under his arm; women, raised their hands to Heaven, calling them back and declaring they would go with them. And whilst I was gazing upon this sad spectacle, suddenly two carts came up, full gallop, from the valley of Graufthal.

  It was the noise of these two vehicles that I had mistaken for drums approaching. A week later I should not have made this mistake, for the Germans steal along like wolves: there is no drumming or bugling, as with us; and you have twenty thousand men on your hands before you know it.

  The people riding in the carts were crying, “The Prussians are at the back of the saw-mills!”

  They could be heard afar off; especially the women, who were raising themselves in the cart, throwing up their hands.

  At a hundred yards from the mill the cart stopped, and recognizing Father Diemer, municipal councillor, who was driving, I cried to him, “Hallo, Diemer! pull up a moment. What is going on down there?”

  “The Prussians are coming, Monsieur le Maire,” he said.

  “Oh, well, well, if they must come sooner or later, what does it signify? Do come down.”

  He came down, and told me that he had been that morning to the forest-house of Domenthal in his conveyance, to fetch away his wife and daughter who had been staying there with relations for a few days; and that on his way back he had seen in a little valley, the Fischbachel, Prussian infantry, their arms stacked, resting on the edge of the wood, making themselves at home; which had made him gallop away in a hurry.

  That was what he had seen.

  Then other men came up, woodmen, who said that they were some of our own light infantry, and that Diemer had made a mistake; then more arrived, declaring that they were Prussians; and so it went on till night.

  About seven o’clock I saw an old French soldier, the last who came through our village; his leg was bandaged with a handkerchief, and he sat upon the bench before my house asking me for a piece of bread and a glass of water, for the love of God! I went directly and told Grédel to fetch him bread and wine. She poured out the wine herself for this poor fellow, who was suffering great pain. He had a ball in his leg; and, in truth, the wound smelt badly, for he had not been able to dress it, and he had dragged himself through the woods from Woerth.

  He had eaten nothing for twenty-four hours, and told us that the colonel of his regiment had fallen, crying, “Friends, you are badly commanded! Cease to obey your generals!”

  He only rested for a few minutes, not to let his leg grow stiff, and went on his weary way to Phalsbourg.

  He was the last French soldier that I saw after the battle of Reichshoffen.

  At night we were told that the peasants of Graufthal had found a gun stuck fast in the valley; and two hours later, whilst we were supping, our neighbor Katel came in pale as death, crying, “The Prussians are at your door!”

  Then I went out. Ten or fifteen Uhlans were standing there smoking their short wooden pipes, and watering their horses at the mill-stream.

  Imagine my surprise, especially when one of these Uhlans began to greet me in bad Prussian-German: “Oho! good-evening, Monsieur le Maire! I hope you have been pretty well, Monsieur le Maire, since I last had not the pleasure of seeing you?”

  He was the officer of the troop. My wife, and Grédel, too, were looking from the door. As I made no answer, he said, “And Mademoiselle Grédel! here you are, as fresh and as happy as ever. I suppose you still sing morning and evening, while you are washing up?”

  Then Grédel, who has good eyes, cried, “It is that great knave who came to take views in our country last year with his little box on four long legs!”

  And, even in the dusk, I could recognize one of those German photographers who had been travelling about the mountains a few months before, taking the likenesses of all our village folks. This man’s name was Otto Krell; he was tall, pale, and thin, his nose was like a razor back, and he had a way of winking with his left eye while paying you compliments. Ah! the scoundrel! it was he, indeed, and now he was an Uhlan officer: when Grédel had spoken, I recognized him perfectly.

  “Exactly so, Mademoiselle Grédel,” said he, from his tall horse. “It is I myself. You would have made a good gendarme; you would have known a rogue from an honest man in a moment.”

  He burst out laughing, and Grédel said, “Speak in a language I can understand; I cannot make out your patois.”

  “But you understand very well the patois of Monsieur Jean Baptiste Werner,” answered this gallows-bird, making a grimace. “How is good Monsieur Jean Baptiste? Is he in as good spirits as ever? Have you still got your little likeness of him, you know, close to your heart—that young gentleman, I mean, that I had to take three times, because he never came out handsome enough?”

  Then Grédel, ashamed, ran into the house, and my wife took refuge in her room.

  Then he said to me, “I am glad to see you, Monsieur le Maire, in such excellent health. I came to you, first of all, to wish you good-morning; but then, I must acknowledge, my visit has another object.”

  And as I still answered nothing, being too full of indignation, he asked me:

  “Have you still got those nice Swiss cows? splendid animals? and the twenty-five sheep you had last year?”

  I understood in a moment what he was driving at, and I cried: “We have nothing at all; there is nothing in this village; we are all ruined; we cannot furnish you a single thing.”

  “Oh! come now, please don’t be angry, Monsieur Weber. I took your likeness, with your scarlet waistcoat and your great square-cut coat; I know you very well, indeed! you are a fine fellow! I have orders to inform you that to-morrow morning 15,000 men will call here for refreshments; that they are fond of good beef and mutton, and not above enjoying good white bread, and wine of Alsace, also vegetables, and coffee, and French cigars. On this paper you will find a list of what they want. So you had better make the necessary arrangements to satisfy them; or else, Monsieur le Maire, they will help themselves to your cows, even if they have to go and look for them in the woods of the Biechelberg, where you have sent them; they will help themselves to your sacks of flour, and your wine, that nice, light wine of Rikevir; they will take everything, and then they will burn down your house. Take my advice, welcome them as German brothers, coming to deliver you from French bondage: for you are Germans, Monsieur Weber, in this part of the country. Therefore prepare this requisition yourself. If you want a thing done well, do it yourself; you will find this plan most advantageous. It is out of friendship to you, as a German brother, and in return for the good dinner you gave me last year that I say this. And now, good-night.”

  He turned round to his men, and all together filed off in the darkness, going up by the left toward Berlingen.

  Then, without even going into my own house, I ran to my cousin’s, to tell him what had happened. He was going to bed.

  “Well, what is the matter?” said he.

  Completely upset, I told him the visit I had had from these robbers, and what demands they had made. My cousin and his wife listened attentively; then George, after a minute’s thought, said: “Christian, force is force! If 15,000 men are to pass here, it means that 15,000 will pass by Metting, 15,000 by Quatre Vents, 15,000 by Lützelbourg, and so forth. We are invaded; Phalsbourg will be blockaded, and if we stir, we shall be knocked on the head without notice before we can count ten. What would you have? It’s war! Those who lose must pay the bill. The good men who have been plundering us for eighteen years have lost for us, and we are going to pay for them; that is plain enough. Only, if we make grimaces while we pay, they ask more; and if we go to work without much grumbling, they will shave us not quite so close: they will pretend to treat us with consideration and indulgence; they won’t rob quite so roughly; they will be a little more gentle, and strip you with more civility. I have seen
that in my campaigns. Here is the advice which I give, for your own and everybody else’s interest. First of all, this very evening, you must send for your cows from the Biechelberg; you will tell David Hertz to drive the two best to his slaughter-house; and when the Prussians come and they have seen these two fine animals, David will kill them before their eyes. He will distribute the pieces under the orders of the commanders. That will just make broth in the morning for the 15,000 men, and if that is not enough, send for my best cow. All the village will be pleased, and they will say, ‘The mayor and his cousin are sacrificing themselves for the commune.’

  “That will be a very good beginning; but then as we shall have begun with ourselves, and nobody can make any objection after that, you had better put an ox of Placiard’s under requisition, then a cow of Jean Adam’s, then another of Father Diemer’s, and so on, in proportion to their wants; and that will go on till the end of the cows, the oxen, the pigs, the sheep and the goats. And you must do the same with the bread, the flour, the vegetables, the wine; always beginning at you and me. It is sad; it is a great trouble; but his Majesty the Emperor, his Ministers, his relations, his friends and acquaintances have gambled away our hay, our straw, our cattle, our money, our meadows, our houses, our sons, and ourselves, pretending all the while to consult us; they have lost like fools: they never kept their eye on the game, because their own little provision was already laid by, somewhere in Switzerland, in Italy, in England, or elsewhere; and they risked nothing but that vast flock which they were always accustomed to shear, and which they call the people. Well, my poor Christian, that flock is ourselves—we peasants! If I were younger; if I could make forced marches as I did at thirty, I should join the army and fight; but in the present state of things, all I can do is, like you, to bow down my back, with a heart full of wrath, until the nation has more sense, and appoints other chiefs to command.”

  The advice of George met with my approbation, and I sent the herdsmen to fetch my cows at the Biechelberg. I told him, besides, to give notice to the principal inhabitants that if they did not bring back their beasts to the village, the Prussians would go themselves and fetch them, because they knew the country roads better than ourselves; and that they would put into the pot first of all the cattle of those who did not come forward willingly.