THE BURNING OF BAZEILLES.--WORTHLESS FRENCH OFFICERS.--A WALK ABOUT
SEDAN.--IN THE VALLEY.
To our labours in the Hospitals I shall presently return. On the 31st,
Drs. Frank and Blewitt had established a branch hospital at Balan, and
during that day and 1st September, had rendered assistance, both there
and at Bazeilles, to those who were wounded in the street-fighting or
injured by the flames. Dr. Blewitt informed me that at one time, the
house in which they were treating a large number of wounded had its
windows and doors so riddled with bullets, that, in order to escape with
their lives, they had to lie down on the floor, and remain there until
the leaden shower was over. The French inhabitants also, he said, had
fired upon the Bavarians; they had set their bedding and furniture
alight, and thrown them out on the heads of the Germans, who were packed
close in the streets; and after the first repulse of the invaders,
several wounded Prussians had been barbarously butchered, some even
(horrible to relate) had had their throats cut with razors. This, it
was reported, had been the work of French women. On the other hand,
several of the native soldiers had been found propped up against the
walls in a sitting posture, with pipes and flowers in their mouths. Upon
retaking the village, when the Germans discovered what had been done,
they retaliated by shooting down and bayoneting all before them, nor in
some instances did the women and children escape this cruel fate. So
exasperated, indeed, were the Germans by the events of those two
dreadful hours on the 1st, that not a life did they spare, nor a house
did they leave intact, in that miserable town.
Such, in brief, was the history of Bazeilles. It is not a subject which
one can dwell upon. When, within a day or two later, I had occasion to
pass through it, and saw the still burning ruins which bore witness to
the awful deeds done on both sides, my heart sank. All that fire and
sword could wreak upon any town and its inhabitants was visible here;
and it is not too much to affirm that, so long as the name of Bazeilles
is remembered, a stain will rest on the memory of French and Germans,
both of whom contributed to its ruin.
On the 5th September Dr. Frank took possession of the Château Mouville,
which belonged to the Count de Fienne. It is situated between Balan and
Bazeilles, and was quickly filled with wounded from both places. But
for some time our ambulance was unable to get its waggons through the
streets, so impeded were they with the charred remains of the dead and
dying.
I have now described what I can vouch for, on the testimony of some of
my companions, as having occurred at these two places; and I will leave
my own account of what I saw myself in Bazeilles until a later occasion.
To go back to Sedan. As night drew near, the refugees outside the
Caserne lighted their fires, and put up their tents. Those who had no
tents rolled themselves in their cloaks, and lay down just where they
happened to be. All were overcome by fatigue, long marches, and want of
food and sleep; they seemed only too glad to rest anywhere, and to enjoy
a respite from the sufferings and hardships which during so many days
had weighed upon them.
The true story of these unhappy soldiers will never become known in
detail; and if it did, the public would hardly believe it. Many of them
started, as I heard from their own lips, with only two-thirds of the kit
they were booked as having received. In some instances their second pair
of boots were wanting; or, if not, the pair supplied had thick brown
paper soles covered with leather, and were often a misfit. The men, as
we read with perfect accuracy in _La Débâcle_, were marched and
countermarched to no purpose; they received contradictory orders; and I
learned from their statements, that neither general officers nor
subalterns knew whither they were going; and that one corps was
constantly getting foul of the other, simply from not being acquainted
with the map of the district in which they found themselves. More than
one declared to me that their officers were _officiers de salon;_ they
were _canaille_, said the men, who when under fire were the first to
seek shelter, and from their position of security to cry "_En avant, mes
braves!_" In fact, the common soldiers felt and expressed the heartiest
contempt for them. Of this I had abundant evidence. It was enough to see
how the rank and file came into the cafés and sat down beside the
officers of their own regiment, as I have seen them do, taking hardly
any notice of them, or deigning them only the lamest of salutes. On the
other hand, when officers came into a café (which they did upon every
possible occasion), the men would pretend not to see them. I have
observed, not once, but scores of times, captains of the Line, wearing
decorations, seated in taverns drinking beer and absinthe with the
common soldiers. They were as despicable in their familiarities as in
their want of courage; and who can be surprised if their men did not
respect them, or wonder that such leaders had no control over the
privates when in action?
As I mentioned before, we treated a number of officers of high grade
who were wounded on the 1st. They, in their turn, did not hesitate to
show how small was the confidence which they reposed in the grades above
them, by insisting that they had been sold and betrayed. They had
received no orders; and the generals of division had failed to make
their different marches in the appointed time, and to bring up their
commissariat, because their movements were hampered by the Emperor and
his staff, with their infinite baggage and useless attendants.
Statements such as these, together with what I witnessed myself,
convinced me in a very short time that it was not the soldiers of France
who were wanting in courage and endurance, but their officers who were
thoroughly incompetent, and their commissariat and whole military
organisation, which was rotten to the core.
But to my Hospital. As I walked around the building the sight was
picturesque and very human,--the camp fires showing all the ground
strewn beneath the great trees with jaded sleepers. Entering by one of
the doors, I stumbled against something, which turned out to be a
slumbering Turco. The fellow yelled out words quite unintelligible to
me, and rolled over, without giving himself any more trouble, out of my
way. The medical staff now retired, and attacked what bread, meat, and
soup had been saved from the depredators of our larder that morning;
after which we resumed work once more. We were kept at it the whole of
that night, the following day, and some hours of the night after that,
without intermission. During the whole of the next day we were engaged
in receiving and conveying wounded men from the cottages and farmsteads
scattered over the plains at Illy and Floing, all of which were crammed
with disabled combatants. My duty in the Caserne was to dress the
lightly wounded, and assist at the operation table until the afternoon,
when I was desired by our kind and considerate chief to take four hours
off duty, and get some sleep.
Instead, however, of taking this rest, which no doubt one required, I
sallied forth with F. Hayden on an expedition into the town, to the
Croix d'Or, where I had left something on the 31st, which I thought I
might recover. We found it hard to get out of our own enclosure; and
even on the steep path leading to the town, men were lying asleep, while
others roamed about in search of food. But when we got into Sedan, the
streets were thronged with soldiers. At several corners we stopped to
see men who were hacking and hewing the carcases of horses, which they
had just killed. Hungry crowds surrounded them, many of whom were
munching the lumps of raw meat, which they had secured, without waiting
to have it cooked; and in the Place de Turenne lay the bloody skeletons
of two horses, from which every particle of flesh had been cut away.
Here, as our cook, "nigger Charlie," assured me, was the source of my
morning's meal, which I had washed down with brandy, and thoroughly
relished. I may be pardoned for turning quickly from the revolting
scene.
Finding that it was impossible to proceed, we retraced our steps to the
Caserne, and, making our exit this time through one of the sallyports,
went over the scene, at least in part, of yesterday's battle.
It was a beautiful autumn evening, and the sun shone bright. Butterflies
flitted to and fro, and myriads of insects danced in the light as if for
a wager. Just as we were walking along the entrenchments outside, we
very nearly met with an inglorious end from a shower, not of bullets,
but of _pistols_, which came over the battlements, and continued falling
at intervals. On looking up, I perceived, standing on a projecting
angle, a stalwart Turco, who made signs that I should keep in close to
the parapet, which I did. This friendly fellow persuaded his comrades to
desist for a little, and thus enabled us to retreat.
On getting clear of the ramparts, we found ourselves north of the town,
with the Bois de Garenne crowning the heights in front, and the valley
of Floing sloping away to our left. But the plateau which yesterday
swarmed with a surging mass of soldiers in conflict with the enemy, and
upon which we had seen the Cuirassiers and Chasseurs d'Afrique, at the
sound of the trumpet, tear headlong in their mad career to death,--was
now hushed, and presented a field of such horrors as are not to be
described.
The burying parties had been hard at work for hours, but still the dead
lay scattered about on every side:--here singly, there in twos and
threes,--and again, in groups huddled together, which had been mown down
where they stood, by the same missile. Their features in some instances
were contorted and dreadful to behold,--some with portions of their
skulls and faces blown away, whilst what was left of their features
remained unchanged; others with their chests torn open and bowels
protruding; others, again, mangled and dismembered. The larger number
lay either on their backs or faces, without any apparent indication of
the nature of their death-wound. And some there were who had received
the first aid of surgical treatment, and died in the positions in which
they had been placed.
Lower down the valley the corpses in red and blue, and the ranks of dead
horses, the broken spears and sabres, and the bent scabbards, spoke
silently but forcibly of the fury of that historic encounter. When one
looked along the plain for about half a mile on each side, one saw that
now deserted battlefield strewn as far as the eye could reach with
guns, and ammunition, and upturned waggons. There were carriages, and
dead horses by the side of them; firearms of every kind, in places
stacked several feet high, and knapsacks innumerable; caps, helmets,
belts, plumes, shakos, spurs, and boots, and every description
imaginable of military accoutrements. We remarked, besides, all manner
of articles--sponges, brushes, letters, pocket-books, soldiers'
regimental books, band-music, tin boxes various in size, and showing the
most diverse contents, others empty and their former contents scattered
about; as also nets for hay, saddles, saddle-trappings, whips, bridles,
bits, drums, portions of band instruments, and, in fact, as many
descriptions of objects great and small as would furnish an immense
bazaar.
In one place I found a chassepot inverted together with a bayonet, set
at the head of a French soldier's grave, and a cavalry sword which lay
unsheathed beside its owner, who, still unburied, gazed vacantly in
front of him with a glassy stare, whilst the flies swarmed about his
half-opened mouth. The only indication of how he met his death was a
small patch of blood-stained earth beside him--not red, but tarry-black.
Near at hand, also, lay, covered with blood, a bit and bridle, without
anything to betoken how it came there.
The dismal monotony of the scene was relieved only by those little
mounds of fresh earth scattered here and there, which marked where the
bodies of the slain, varying from one to ten in each place of sepulture,
had been consigned. Burials were still going on before our eyes.
Over many of the graves were set up rustic crosses, made with two pieces
of wood tied together, or more frequently devices in arms.
Silent as the prospect lay in front of us, its mournful stillness was
occasionally broken by the neighing and scampering of bands of horses,
still uncaptured, which were wandering in a fruitless search for food
and water. As they looked wildly round with their nostrils
distended,--some with just sufficient trappings left to indicate the
military status of their former masters,--one could almost think that,
still unconquered, they sought their comrades and the fray.
In my ramble I passed through several gardens and orchards skirting the
Bois de Garenne. It was pitiful to see their condition. The trees were
utterly ruined, and their branches all broken; the flower beds were
ploughed up by the bursting of shells, and the houses had become mere
wrecks. Through some of them these missiles had made a clean breach.
Further on to the right, there had been a pretty little cemetery,
planted with yew trees, evergreens, and flowers, which had many small
monuments in marble and cut stone; but these, for the most part, were
broken or disfigured, and the iron railings and the shrubs around them
had been torn down.
As I walked through, I paused for a moment to look upon the two
graveyards,--the one with a history of centuries, judging from its many
ancient tombs,--the other of yesterday's making--its only monuments the
little mounds of fresh earth, over which, a few months hence, the green
corn of spring would be waving, to obliterate the record of to-day's
ghastly scene.
Hastening from this melancholy spot, I passed several burying parties.
The ceremonies which they used were rude and scant enough; for all they
did was to heave the body into the newly-made grave, and heap the earth
over it in silence.
Next we ascended the tree-crested height above the plateau of Floing,
where we had seen the cavalry massed on the morning before. We first
entered the wood. It was intersected by walks which led to an
observatory and a Château in the centre. Here, as everywhere else,
disorder reigned. One might easily have conceived that an army had been
annihilated in the act of preparing their toilet: for all things
belonging to a soldier, from his full-dress uniform to his linen and
boots, were scattered about in all directions. Rifles and arms of all
sorts were cast away in hundreds. The brushwood in many parts was very
thick; but even in the midst of almost impenetrable scrub we found arms
and accoutrements in abundance. More than once we came upon the corpses
of French soldiers, who lay as if asleep. They had probably dragged
themselves from the scene of carnage to this lonely spot, and there
expired, unmolested.
At one place in particular the underwood was so thick, that I had to
crouch down in order to get through it. My attention was drawn thither
by the signs of a path having been forced in that direction. A little
further in, I found an open space of a few yards square, which was now
occupied by a grave. It had no device upon it, except a cross scratched
in the red clay. Lying beside it, I found a piece of shell, a religious
picture, a prayer-book, and fragments of a uniform, which I still have
by me. I fancy some kind comrade had paid his friend a last tribute, by
giving him, as it were, a special burial in a place to himself.
In order to reach the building in the centre of the wood, I had to pass
through a little garden, whose only flowers seemed to be rows of
dahlias, of every colour and description. Among these the shells had
made havoc. In one bed, I remarked a deep hole where a shell had fallen,
and some of the plants had been lifted several feet away. In other
places, furrows of some yards in length were made by shot and shell, as
if a plough had worked intermittently here and there. Some were deep,
others just skimmed the surface and ran a zigzag course, as if a
gigantic animal had been turning up the ground with his muzzle. The
building, into which I made my way, seemed to be an observatory or
pavilion, belonging to the Château, which stood some distance behind.
Its doors and wood-work were riddled with bullets, and the roof was
blown away. There, curiously enough, a large quantity of music was
strewn about. Under cover of this wood, the Bois de Garenne, we had seen
the French massing their troops; and they had evidently been lying here
in ambush when the Prussians detected and shelled them, before the final
rout, during which they abandoned their arms and ammunition. Down the
slope of the hill, and in the bottom of the valley facing the Meuse,
dead men and horses, with groups of hastily-dug graves,--many of them
German,--and broken spears, and numbers of unsheathed cavalry swords,
told the same tale of a death struggle in which hundreds must have
perished.
Further along the valley, beside a lonely thicket, was a large mound
with a stake driven into it, and an inscription in German characters,
made with some material which looked like blacking, "Here lie thirty-six
men of the 5th corps". Who shall reckon the number of French dead in the
many graves adjacent?
As my time was up, I now hastened back to my post, feeling like one who
had awakened from a terrible nightmare. Yet I was much invigorated by
this expedition, so mournful in its circumstances, and went to work with
renewed energy.
On the evening of the 3rd, word was brought us that some of the wounded
lay in a bad way in a cottage outside Balan. Dr. MacCormac, accompanied
by Dr. Hewitt and myself, at once proceeded through the town and along
the high road, which we followed only for a short distance. Then we
struck out to the left until we arrived at a small wood, where certain
of the French troops were still encamped, but as prisoners.
The night was fine, and would have been pitch dark had not the camp
fires shone around numerous and bright. When we came to the house in
question, Dr. MacCormac performed several amputations, at which Hewitt
and I assisted. In a couple of hours we started again for home, but
being both hungry and thirsty, turned aside into a little cottage, where
we told the poor woman in occupation that we had been attending the
wounded, and had had nothing to eat all day. We were willing to pay for
anything she could give us. At first she looked at us sternly; but when
we told her on which side we had been engaged, she melted, and received
us with a welcome, which, if not effusive, was, under the circumstances,
cordial.
Out of her larder she offered us bread, and a quantity of what she
informed us was beef. We could not be particular; and it was not without
enjoyment that we made our doubtful, but much needed supper on her
viands. No further incident delayed our return to the Caserne D'Asfeld.