_The Prussians at Chartres_
‘Je sais le plan de Trochu
Plan, plan, plan, plan, plan!
Mon Dieu! quel beau plan!
Je sais le plan de Trochu!’
On the 26th of October 1901 a monument, standing at the entrance of the
Promenade des Charbonniers, near the Place du Châtelet, and dedicated to
the memory of the children of Eure-et-Loir, who laid down their lives
for their fatherland, was unveiled by M. Caillaux, the Minister of
Finance. The monument was designed by M. Nénot, and consists of a
triumphal arch in the Classic style, crowned by a pediment bearing the
arms of Chartres, Châteaudun, Dreux and Nogent-le-Rotrou. This is
accompanied by three groups in bronze: on either side an artilleryman
and a foot soldier of the _mobile_; in the centre, beneath the arch
itself, the principal group, representing ‘France calling to the
defence.’ It consists of a female figure, who personifies the Fatherland
and the Republic, brandishing in one hand a flag tattered and torn with
bullets, and pointing with the other in the direction of the enemy. And
an officer at her feet fires a revolver in that direction.
To the France of to-day this monument is not a mere memorial of the past
and useless valour of her sons, but a warning also, lest she should
forget the coming of the Prussians in 1870, her own military
unpreparedness, and, it should be, her own fatal political weakness.
Something, too, it doubtless expresses of that thirst for revenge which
threw her some years ago into the arms of Russia, and which that
alliance was really certain to prevent her from gratifying.
It was on Friday, the 30th of September 1870, that the Prussian soldiers
appeared for the first time near Chartres.[102] Three weeks later
Châteaudun fell, after a desperate and heroic defence, for which that
picturesque and ancient town paid the dear price of failure. Two days
later the enemy marched in force upon Chartres. The _tirailleurs_ and
_mobiles_ and troops of the National Guard, who endeavoured to defend
the town, after vain marching and counter-marching, with the same
generous ardour and utter ineffectiveness as had distinguished the
movements of the other armies before the disasters of Wissembourg, Wörth
and Sedan, returned exhausted. Without firing a shot they had been
rendered incapable of fighting. Fighting in any case would have been
useless. It was wisely decided to capitulate, and on the 21st the Mayor
and Prefect of the Department drove out to Morancez to save the city and
Cathedral, by surrendering them to General von Wittich, from the
inevitable destruction of which Châteaudun had given them a terrible
example. What they saw on their way of the French defence and the
Prussian advance convinced civilians and military men alike that it was
impossible to hope to defend Chartres. It was agreed that half the
French garrison should evacuate the town, and that the Prussians should
halt at the Three Bridges till half-past four, and then take possession.
When the news of the capitulation was heard by the troops assembled on
the Boulevard Chasles,[103] they protested, and
[Illustration: Old Houses in the Rue Ste Même]
raised the cry of treason, which was the watchword of the whole war.
It had been expressly stipulated that the National Guard should be
disarmed, and Colonel Heiduck, who conducted the negotiations at
Morancez, had demanded the surrender of 2000 rifles. ‘But,’ replied M.
Labiche, the prefect, ‘there never have been more than 1300, and we
really have not time to get any more to make up the 2000.’ With such
inadequate means of defence, and with the threat of immediate
bombardment from the artillery, which was ranged in a semi-circle round
the town on the south-west side, hanging over their heads, the
representatives of Chartres behaved wisely in yielding at once. The
stranger at least cannot regret that the Cathedral was preserved from
the ordeal of a bombardment.
‘The Prussian troops,’ said the _Cologne Gazette_, ‘entered Chartres
with bands playing and saluted with enthusiastic cheers Prince Albert of
Prussia, whom they marched past. Next morning presented a striking scene
when these German warriors met in the famous crypt of the Cathedral, and
visited by the light of the lamps every part of that splendid
subterranean building.’
The occupation of Chartres lasted for five months--the place, of course,
was important to hold during the siege of Paris--but the inhabitants
would appear to have suffered very little, except from German music.
This is how M. Caillot, the historian of the occupation, describes the
behaviour of the Prussians on the morrow of their entry.
‘Towards nine o’clock in the morning their infernal music, which they
had had the indecency to parade through the town the night before,
echoed through the Place des Épars. The officers, smart and pomaded like
circus-clowns, strutted round the musicians and saluted each other with
a stiffness that they seemed to have borrowed from the English. Out of
the hotels and houses they poured in an endless stream, men of all
colours, sizes and ages, stiff, proud and haughty, with all the airs of
conquerors.’
Conquerors, after all, they were, but though, like all the French
writers of the period, M. Caillot refers to the Germans as barbarians
and savages, they seem to have done little that can honestly be called
savage--unless leaving without paying their bill, which amounted to
nearly half a million francs, can be considered so. The fact is that,
according to the unanimous testimony of foreign observers who
accompanied the army, the moderation of the German soldiers was as
remarkable as their successes.
During the weary months that ensued, the Chartrains remained as ignorant
of what was going on in the Department and round Paris as the
beleaguered Parisians themselves. The same unfounded hopes and false
rumours, the same invincible optimism and futile belief in the ‘plan of
Trochu,’ in successful sorties from Paris or in the victories of the
army of the Loire prevailed as in Paris itself. They are recorded in M.
Caillot’s little volume with something of the same pathos, but not with
the same spirit that distinguishes Francisque Sarcey’s _Le Siège de
Paris_. There we learn how the Chartrains listened to the battle of
Loigny raging in the distance, and thought that the sound of the
Prussian artillery was that of the French guns till the arrival of 2400
French prisoners told them the bitter truth, and how they rejoiced at
the lyrical proclamations of Gambetta, only to be reduced to despair at
the news of the fall of Orléans.
They learnt on the 29th of January, with bitter grief and mortification,
that Paris had been forced at last to capitulate, and from that time
onwards they were busy with the payment of their share of the
impositions and indemnities that were inflicted upon the conquered
nation.
The Prussians left Chartres on the 16th of March 1871.