THE PRUSSIANS AT FRANKFORT
In Frankfort all was sorrow and dismay at the news of the defeat. The
inhabitants were deeply apprehensive of their treatment by the Prussians
since seeing what had occurred in Hanover. On the evening of the battle,
as we have said, the news of the disaster had reached Frankfort, and
from the next day, the 15th, the conviction that its occupation would be
immediate had cast an aspect of mourning over the town. Not a single
person was to be seen on the fashionable promenade. The Prussians, so it
was said, would make their entry on the 16th after midday.
Night came, and with it a strange solitude in the streets, where, if one
met a wayfarer it was evident from his hurry that he was on urgent
business, carrying perhaps jewels or valuables for deposit at one of the
foreign legations. At an early hour the houses had been shut up. Behind
the bolted doors and windows one guessed that the inmates were silently
digging holes for the concealment of their treasures.
Morning came and everywhere might be seen affixed placards of the
Senate, reading as follows:
"The King of Prussia's royal troops will make their entry into Frankfort
and its suburbs; our relations with them will therefore be materially
changed from what they were when they were in garrison here. The Senate
deplores this change which has been brought about in the relations in
question, but the national sacrifices we have already made will render
our inevitable pecuniary losses easy in comparison with what we have
already lost. We all know that the discipline of the King of Prussia's
troops is admirable. In circumstances of great difficulty the Senate
exhorts all alike, of whatever rank or position, to give a friendly
reception to the Prussian troops."
The Frankfort battalion received orders to hold itself ready, with band
in front, to march out and meet the Prussians and do them honour. From
ten o'clock in the morning every advantageous spot, all the belfries and
housetops from which the suburbs, and particularly the road from
Aschaffenburg could be seen, were crowded with curious spectators.
Towards noon the Prussians were descried at Hanau. The railway brought
them by thousands and they were seen occupying as if by magic all the
strategic points along the line, not without certain precautions which
indicated their uneasiness as to what might portend.
Nothing occurred, however, until four o'clock. Then successive trains
left Hanau bearing the victorious army and rolled up to the town gates
until seven o'clock. It was clear that General Falkenstein now waited
the submission of the municipality, perhaps believing that the keys of
the town would be brought him on a silver salver. He waited in vain.
All was silence. None of the inhabitants moved and the Prussian
soldiers, prominent among whom were the cuirassiers who had charged so
vigorously in the battle, seemed spectres in their great cloaks and
steel helmets. In the evening the Zeil is ever a melancholy place. On
this occasion how sad it looked, despair seemed inextricably
intermingled with its brooding shadows, in which stood out like a
squadron of phantoms the Prussian cuirassiers. Now and again the
trumpets sounded sinister fanfares.
The fact that the Prussians were Germans was completely forgotten; their
attitude clearly showed that they were enemies.
Suddenly the music of the battalion of Frankfort broke out, coming from
the further side of the town. It met the Prussians at the top of the
Zeil, drew up in ranks and presented arms to the beating of the drums.
The Prussians did not appear to notice these friendly advances. Two
cannons arrived at a gallop. One was trained on the Zeil, the other on
the Ross-market. The head of the Prussian column was formed on the
Schiller Square and commanded the Zeil: for a quarter-of-an-hour the
cavalry remained in line on horseback, then they dismounted and stood
awaiting orders. This kind of encampment during which expectation grew
tenser lasted until eleven. Then, all at once as the clocks struck,
groups of ten, fifteen, or twenty men detached themselves, struck on the
doors and invaded the houses.
No order had been given in the town for the provision of rations and
wine. So the Prussians, treating Frankfort as a conquered world, chose
the most comfortable houses in which to establish themselves.
The battalion remained a quarter-of-an-hour presenting arms; after which
the commanding officer ordered muskets to be grounded. The band
continued to play. It was ordered to cease.
After two hours, as no word had been exchanged between the battalion and
the Prussian army, the former received the order to retire, arms lowered
as for a funeral. It was the funeral of Frankfort's liberty.
The whole night passed in the same terrors as if the town had been taken
by assault. If doors opened slowly, they were broken; cries of terror
were heard in the houses and no one dared to ask what caused them. As
the house of Hermann Mumm appeared one of the most important, he had to
lodge and board two hundred soldiers and fifteen officers this first
night. Another house, that of Madame Luttereth, lodged fifty men, who
amused themselves with breaking the windows and furniture, on the
alleged pretext that she had given evening parties and balls without
inviting the Prussian officers in garrison. Accusations of this kind,
accusations which served as the pretext for unheard of violence were
preferred against all classes of society. And the Prussian officers said
to their men: "You have a right to get all you can from these Frankfort
rascals, who have lent Austria twenty-five millions without charging
interest."
It was vain to say that the town had never had twenty-five millions in
its coffers; that had it had them such a loan could not have been made
without a decree of the Senate and the Legislature, and that the most
skilful investigator would fail to find a trace of such a decree. The
officers persisted, and, as the soldiers had no need to be encouraged in
a preliminary pillage while waiting the great day of plunder which had
been promised them, they gave themselves up to the most brutal
disorders, believing themselves authorized by the hatred of their chiefs
towards the unhappy town. From this night commenced what was rightly
called _the Prussian Terror at Frankfort_.
Frederic von Bülow, who knew of the orders to treat Frankfort as a
hostile city, had had a guard placed at the Chandroz' house to secure
the safety of the family, his pretext being that it had been reserved
for General Sturm and his staff.
Daylight dawned and presently, few having slept, all the world was
abroad, lamenting their misfortune and enquiring about those suffered by
their friends. Then came the billstickers slowly and unwillingly, like
men under constraint, fixing up the following notice:
"Authority having been given me over the Duchy of Nassau, the town
of Frankfort and its suburbs, as also over that part of Bavaria
which is occupied by the Prussian troops and over the Grand-duchy
of Hesse, all workmen and functionaries will in future take orders
from me. These orders will be duly and formally communicated.
"Dated at Frankfort, July 16th, 1866,
"The Commander-in-Chief of the Army of the Main,
"Falkenstein."
Two hours later the general addressed a note to the Deputies Fellner and
Müller, in which he stated that as armies at war could procure what they
had need of in the enemy's country, the town of Frankfort would furnish
to the army of the Main:
"1. For each soldier a pair of boots to sample.
"2. Three hundred good horses ready saddled to replace those lost by the
army.
"3. The pay of the army for a year to be sent instantly to the army
treasurer."
By way of recompense the town was to be freed from all imposts, except
cigars, the general engaging furthermore to reduce the burden of the
military billeting as much as possible.
The total claimed for army pay was 7,747,008 florins.
The two members hastened to General Falkenstein's headquarters, and were
admitted to him. His first words were:
"Well, sirs, have you brought my money?"
"We beg leave to submit to your Excellency," said Fellner, "that we
have no authority to decree payment of such a sum, as the government of
the town having been dissolved, its consent cannot be obtained."
"That does not concern me," said the general, "I have conquered the
country and I raise an indemnity. It is perfectly regular."
"Will you allow me to say to your Excellency that a town which does not
defend itself cannot be conquered. Frankfort, a free town, relies for
its defence on its treaties, and has never thought of opposing your
army."
"Frankfort has found twenty-four millions for the Austrians," cried the
general, "and can easily find fifteen or eighteen for us. But if it
refuses, I myself will find them. Four hours only of pillage and we
shall see if your street of the Jews and the coffers of your bankers do
not produce twice as much."
"I doubt, general," said Fellner coldly, "whether Germans can be got to
treat Germans in such a way."
"Who speaks of Germans? I have a Polish regiment brought expressly."
"We have done no harm to the Poles; we have afforded them a refuge
against you whenever they required it. The Poles are not our enemies;
the Poles will not pillage Frankfort."
"That is just what we are going to see," said the general, stamping his
foot with one of those oaths of which the Prussians enjoy the monopoly.
"I don't care a damn if I am called a second Duke of Alva, and I warn
you that if at six o'clock to-day the money is not paid, you will be
arrested to-morrow and thrown into a dungeon, which you will leave only
when the last thaler of the 7,747,008 florins is paid."
"We know your first minister's maxim, 'Might is right.' Dispose of us as
you wish," answered Fellner.
"At five o'clock, the men whom I shall order to receive the seven
million florins will be at the door of the bank, in readiness to
transport the money to my headquarters." Then he added so that the
burgomaster could hear the orders: "Arrest and bring before me, the
Journalist Fischer, editor in chief of the 'Post Zeitung.' I shall
commence with him in dealing with the newspaper men and the newspapers."
* * * * *
Two hours later Fischer was arrested in his house where, after a
communication from Fellner he had remained in expectation of the event,
and brought to headquarters. General Falkenstein had contrived to keep
himself at boiling point, so the moment he saw Fischer:
"Let him enter," he said, in the third person, which in Germany is the
sign of the most profound contempt. And, as Fischer did not enter as
quickly as the general wished, he cried: "A thousand thunders! if he
hangs back, shove him in."
"Here I am," said Fischer; "forewarned of your intention I could have
left Frankfort, but it is my custom to face danger."
"Oh! so you knew that you would be in danger, Mr. Pocket-pen, when you
reached me."
"An unarmed man is always in danger from a powerful armed enemy."
"You consider me your enemy, then?"
"The indemnity you have exacted from Frankfort and your threats against
Herr Fellner are not those of a friend, you will allow."
"Oh! you have no need to await my threats and orders to declare yourself
my enemy. We know your paper, and it is because we know it that you are
going to sign the following declaration. Sit down there, take a pen, and
write."
"I take a pen; but, before using it, what are you about to dictate?"
"You want to know? Well, here it is. I, Dr. Fischer Goullet, Councillor
of State, editor in chief.... But you are not writing."
"Finish your sentence, sir, and if I decide to write I will do so."
"Editor-in-chief of the 'Post Zeitung,' acknowledge myself guilty of
systematic and calumnious hostility towards the Prussian Government."
Fischer threw down the pen.
"I will never write that, sir," said he; "it is false."
"Tempests and thunders!" cried the general, making a step towards him.
"You give me the lie."
Fischer took a newspaper from his pocket.
"This will inform you better than I can, sir," he said; "it is the last
issue of my paper published an hour before your entry here. This is what
I wrote in it:
"'The history of the days which are to come is written at the point
of the bayonet. It is not for the citizens of Frankfort to change
anything. For the population of a small and weak state there is
nothing else to do but to succour the combatants, whether friends
or enemies: they must dress wounds, nurse the sick, exercise
charity towards all. Right behaviour is as much the duty of every
one as obedience towards the responsible authority.'"
Then, seeing the general shrugging his shoulders, Fischer in his turn
took a step forward and holding out his paper:
"Read yourself, if you doubt me," said he.
The general tore it from his hands.
"You wrote that yesterday," he said white with rage, "because yesterday
you felt us coming, because, yesterday, you were afraid of us." And
tearing up the newspaper he crushed it into a ball and threw it in the
Councillor's face, shouting; "You are a coward."
Fischer threw a wild glance around him as if for a weapon with which to
avenge this insult; then with his hand to his forehead he staggered,
turned round with a strangled cry and fell in a heap, killed by the
bursting of a blood vessel in the brain.
The general went to him, pushed him with his foot, and seeing that he
was dead:
"Throw this rascal into a corner," said he to his soldiers, "until his
family comes to fetch him."
The soldiers dragged the corpse into a corner of the ante-room.
Meanwhile, Fellner, fearing that harm would befall his friend, had run
to Hannibal Fischer, the journalist's father, and had told him of the
general's orders. Hannibal Fischer was an old man of eighty, he went to
the headquarters and asked for his son. The son had been seen going up
to the first floor where General Falkenstein held his audiences, but no
one had seen him leave. The old man went up and asked for the general.
He had gone to lunch and his door was closed.
"Sit down there," said some one, "he may return."
"Cannot you tell him that it is a father who claims his son?"
"What on?" asked one of the soldiers.
"My son, Councillor Fischer, who was arrested this morning."
"Why, it is the father," said the soldier to his comrade.
"If he wants his son, let him take him," said the other.
"How, take him?" said the old man, bewildered.
"Certainly," answered the soldier. "There he is waiting for you." And
he pointed to the corpse in the corner.
The father approached the body, knelt on one knee and raised his son's
head.
"Then they have killed him?" he asked the soldiers.
"No, indeed, he died of his own accord."
The father kissed the corpse on the forehead.
"These are unhappy days," he said, "in which fathers bury their
children."
Then he went down, called a street porter, sent him for three of his
mates, mounted again to the ante-chamber and showing them the body:
"Take my son," he said, "and bear him to my house." The men took the
body on their shoulders and bore him to a barrow. The father walked
before it bare-headed and pale, his eyes bathed in tears; and to all who
questioned him about this strange procession, carrying a dead man
through the town without a priest, replied: "It is my son, Councillor
Fischer, whom the Prussians have killed." And thus the news spread over
Frankfort.