AT ROUEN.--ON THE ROAD TO PARIS.--IN THE WOODS AMONG THE
FRANCS-TIREURS.--TAKEN FOR SPIES.--A REFUGEE FENIAN.--TO MANTES.
We arrived in Rouen at four o'clock in the afternoon of the 9th, and
found the town full of Gardes Mobiles, who were marching about in
civilian dress, but armed to the teeth.
Our few hours of sight-seeing next day were not long in coming to an
end; but on going to the Railway Terminus, we heard that a telegram had
just been received, saying that the Prussians had torn up the line to
Paris, and we could travel no further.
However, in a couple of hours, we succeeded in chartering an
engine,--four waggons and a carriage--in which we determined to proceed
as far as we could. Our advance, when we had started, was so slow and
deliberate that we felt sure our conductors were only waiting to pull up
at the first opportunity, and jump off the train as soon as they saw
danger ahead. After going no faster than a horse could have trotted for
two hours or so, we came to a dead stop at a little country village
called St. Pierre. Beyond this point our guard and driver stoutly
refused to carry us; and, as it was now late, we thought well to stay
there for the night. We occupied the village inn and a private house
close by. As we had orders to start at daybreak, we were up betimes next
morning. I went out as soon as it was light, and took a stroll through
the village, in which many of the houses seemed to have been deserted.
On inquiry, I found that, since the first intelligence, a few days back,
that the Prussians were coming, the owners of these houses had packed up
their moveables and gone north, leaving their dwellings to take care of
themselves. The situation of St. Pierre, overlooking the Seine, was
pretty enough. On the heights above stood its quaint little church,
built of flint-stone, and as black as coal in appearance. I went inside,
and saw that it was unadorned, but scrupulously clean.
In another hour we were on our journey again, this time by road. We took
the _route Impériale_ through the valley beside the river, and it would
be difficult to do justice in description to the varied and picturesque
scenes that came repeatedly into view, along the many miles which we
pursued of its winding course.
About midday we gained Gaillon, where we halted to refresh our horses
and ourselves. Gaillon is a large village, with a refreshing air of
comfort and cleanliness about it, and has a broad central street, lined
on each side with handsome trees. Having rested a couple of hours we
pushed on for Vernon, which was, perhaps, some ten miles distant,--a
long journey, during which we had to accommodate our pace to the jaded
horses with their heavy-laden waggons. Our way took us through vast
orchards, and, from an elevation at one part of the road, we could see
nothing for miles round us but fruit trees. But as we were now in
constant expectation of meeting the Prussian outposts, our Chief picked
out Hayden and myself, being the lightest and keenest horsemen in the
party, and sent us ahead, my friend to reconnoitre on one side of the
road, and I upon the other.
For a long while not a soul did we meet, and Dr. Pratt came to the
conclusion that Vernon was unoccupied, whether by the French or the
Prussians, as had been the case at St. Pierre. Believing that it was so,
Hayden and myself received orders to push on thither, and report our
approach at the Mairie, where we must secure the necessary accommodation
during the night for all our party.
With these commands we started, I on a mare of Dr. Pratt's, which we had
got from the Prussians at Sedan, and Hayden upon a black belonging to
Dr. May. As evening came on, it grew so dark that we could hardly see a
few yards in front of us. On we went gaily for some miles, chatting
unconcernedly on various topics, until our road entered a thick and
gloomy wood, with high forest trees towering up on each side. The
darkness was now such that we could not see one another. It was
necessary to slacken rein, and let our horses go at a slow walk, lest
they might leave the road and get us into unexpected trouble.
My friend here remarked to me cheerfully what a helpless condition we
were in, should any accident happen to us, or supposing we fell in with
the French outposts. The words, which echoed through the woods (for he
was speaking at the top of his voice, and it was a still night), had
hardly passed his lips, when suddenly we heard, first a rustling, and
then the sound of voices; shouts were raised on every side of us; and
through the brushwood in all directions we could hear men crashing
headlong towards the place where we stood entrapped.
We held our ground, for to attempt escape was certain death. We should
have received a volley before we had gone many yards.
The challenge now came to us on all sides in French, "_Qui vive?_" We
replied, "_Deux officiers de l'Ambulance Anglo-Américaine_".
They seemed not to be satisfied, and challenged us twice, finally
shouting, as if we were half a mile away, though but a few short paces
from them, "Advance, two officers of the Anglo-American ambulance,
twenty paces, and halt!"
We had no time to obey, for, in a moment, we were surrounded by armed
men. One seized my wrists and another my horse's rein. In a moment a
lantern was produced, wherewith having examined us and found that we
were unarmed, they let go their hold, but roughly hustled us out of our
saddles.
We watched these men, whom we knew by their uniforms to be
Francs-Tireurs, as they carefully examined our horses by the light of
their lanterns. All this time Hayden and I were kept apart, and, on my
attempting to speak to him, I was told that if I did so, I should be
shot straightway.
By a dim light, which some one held behind me, I discovered that I was
standing in a circle of these irregulars with bayonets set. This was the
less assuring that we had heard much of their lawlessness, and in what
fashion they dealt with those who fell into their hands. I now made a
motion towards the breast pocket of my tunic, to get my official papers,
when a musket was pointed at me and I was told not to move. Having held
a council of war over the horses, some of the men now came up and
informed their comrades that they had at last caught two Prussian spies.
For they had discovered, on my mare's flank, the Prussian brand, and,
moreover, we spoke French with a German accent; while our uniforms also
were not French but Prussian. When they had come to this conclusion, I
need hardly say that the treatment we received was not the most
courteous. They cursed and swore at us, and flourished their bayonets
about as if they had been walking-sticks. They marched us along
separately, often threatening that if we stirred or spoke, except by
their direction, they would shoot us. Two of these brigands (for they
were nothing else) marched behind me, two in front, and as many on each
side with fixed bayonets, as if I were likely to overpower them unless
guarded by the whole eight. Even when I put my hands into my trousers
pockets, the flourish of a bayonet near my stomach (from a fellow whom I
discovered to be more than half drunk) compelled me to take them out
again.
What distance we marched before arriving at Vernon we could not even
guess, so much upset and, I must acknowledge, so daunted were we at the
possible fate in store for us. We knew too well that these ruffians were
capable at any moment of hanging us from the nearest tree. Indeed,
before we entered the town, I came to the conclusion that several of the
band were under the influence of drink. I believe there was quite as
much risk of our being shot accidentally as on purpose. They appeared to
have no officer among them; nor could any of them, I suspect, so much as
read or write. They would be admirable judges, therefore, all
considered, of the difference in speaking French between the Prussian
and any other foreign accent!
We must have tramped some three or four miles, when we got into the
town; and there it was an advantage to have even these drunken bullies
as our escort, for crowds gathered in the streets as we passed along,
and taking us to be Prussian spies, stared and scowled fiercely--some
even menacing us with clenched fists. Had not our captors guarded their
prey jealously, I am confident that we should have had a rough handling
from the populace.
When we were taken into the principal barrack, I supposed that we should
be allowed to see the officer of the guard, to whom we could show our
papers, and then pass out. But nothing of the kind; the officer of the
guard was not to be found. He had gone into town to dine with the
Commandant of the place. We were put in the lock-up at the rear of the
guard room, with two sentries over us. Our courage now returned, and we
opened fire at the fellows on guard. Hayden, who spoke French fluently,
gave them his mind concerning the Francs-Tireurs individually, and the
whole French Army collectively, in such scathing language that they must
have thought we were most certainly Prussians. I, not being of so
excitable a temper as my friend, gave them to understand that such an
exhibition of military ignorance and _gaucherie_ as we had witnessed
that night would have been impossible anywhere but in France; and I
think with good reason.
We had been in the lock-up for about an hour, when the officer of the
guard appeared and examined our papers. These he forwarded to the
Commandant Militaire, who inspected them once more, and immediately
ordered our release.
The Commandant came down himself to apologise for the manner in which we
had been treated, and added the information that the Francs-Tireurs were
_canaille_, who had neither military status nor any organisation. But he
assured us, as we did not need telling, that it was a mercy we had not
been shot by them.
We were never in a thorough passion until now. My companion repeated his
strong language, and shook his fist at this gentleman; but he, measuring
the situation like a true Frenchman, became very civil and declined the
contest. After that, I begged him to overlook anything discourteous that
had been said in the heat of provocation; and our interview ended by his
ordering two gendarmes to escort us to the Mairie. We had just time to
secure the requisite quarters when our corps arrived.
I need hardly say how concerned our friends were about this ugly
incident, or how great was their satisfaction at our having escaped a
fate which had befallen others at the hands of this undisciplined but
armed rabble. It is a matter of history that the Francs-Tireurs showed
no respect even for the property of their own countrymen; and we must
not be surprised if they were relentless towards any of the invaders
whose ill luck it was to fall in with their companies. They reminded me
a good deal of what I had read about Italian brigands, whom it is
certain they resembled. And their very existence, in such a province as
Normandy, was a striking proof that France had sunk into the utmost
disorder. The Empire had perished; the Republic, established on the 4th
September, was struggling feebly for its life.
Another incident of a different nature, but of considerable interest to
me, occurred next morning, just as we were on the point of continuing
our journey.
I was standing outside my quarters ready to march, when I noticed a
smart-looking, well-dressed young man, more like an American than a
Frenchman, eyeing me at a little distance off.
There was something about him that excited my curiosity. As he
approached rather timidly, I smiled, and said, to relieve his
embarrassment, "You are not a Frenchman, I presume?" upon which his
hesitation disappeared, and, in unmistakable Tipperary accent, he
exclaimed, "No, indeed, Mr. Ryan. I'd make the queer Frenchman, born
and reared as I was in the parish of Cullen, and educated near your
father's place in the Street of Kilteely, by Mr. William Lundon."
As the speaker had uttered all this in one breath, my amazement was
considerable. Suddenly, and under such circumstances, to meet a man at
Vernon who came from the village of Kilteely, and was acquainted with
me, gave me, so to call it, a shock; and I stared at him for some
seconds without speaking. The new-comer went on to inform me that his
name was Timothy Nihil; that he was an enforced exile from his native
land; and that, at the time of the Fenian rising in 1867, he had been
the leader of that party which attacked and fired on the Glenbane Police
Barracks, near Cullen. He was, in consequence, obliged to flee the
country. He had come over to this place, and, being a man of some
education and intelligence, had found a situation as Professor of
English in the Pension of Vernon; which appointment, he told me, was
worth nearly £100 a year to him.
Timothy Nihil had been brought up in the National school; and, indeed,
went through his classics, as he had said, under Mr. William Lundon, a
teacher of great ability in his own line. To him, perhaps, it was owing
that my Fenian had a very polished address. Poor fellow! his face
lighted up with pleasure when he spoke of "the Old Country"; and when,
in answer to his inquiries about different friends, I told him all I
knew, he beamed with delight. Rebel though he had been, he was yet a
fellow-countryman; and as such I gave him the hand of friendship, and
could not but sympathise with him in his exile. With tears in his eyes,
he repeated that he could never go back to Ireland again.
He was particular in asking about my brother John, for whom he had from
his earliest youth a warm affection; neither did he forget the Black and
Tan hounds at home, in which I have already expressed my own interest.
When he had walked out of the town with me a couple of miles we parted,
after an earnest request that I would give his people news about him on
my return, which I did very gladly. During our conversation not a little
amusement was caused among the party by an English officer, Captain
F----, of the Carbineers, who, when he heard that my new acquaintance
had been a Fenian, became much excited, and was with difficulty kept
from laying hands on Nihil. I explained, however, under what
circumstances he had spoken to me, and the Captain cooled down. His
strong feeling against these men was in itself not unreasonable, as he
had been on active service in Ireland during the winter months of 1867,
and had commanded a flying squadron there.
During these four days of our journey to Paris, the weather continued
very fine, and our walking tour through so pleasant a country was most
enjoyable. Sometimes we chatted with the peasant folk who crossed our
footsteps; and I am bound to say that, in these districts, numbers of
those with whom we talked were loud in praise both of the Emperor and
the Empire. "Look," they often said, "at our beautiful roads,--the
_route Impériale_, for instance, between Rouen and Paris--look at our
towns and villages, with their magnificently wooded streets, and their
public buildings and monuments; look at the fine bridges and aqueducts
which you see all round! Whom have we to thank for these things but the
Emperor? Who has given work to the millions of the labouring class
throughout France? Who has made Paris one of the most beautiful cities
of the world, and the Capital of Europe? Who ruled France when she was
the most rich and prosperous of nations, with a trade and commerce more
extensive than ever before?" Such were the facts on which these humble
people became eloquent. Were they altogether in the wrong? Let others
decide.
The country between Vernon and Mantes is very hilly, and some parts of
the road were rendered almost impassable by the deep trenches which the
French had cut across them to hinder the German progress. Strangely
enough, although they went to such great trouble to destroy the road,
they yet left a narrow causeway, over which a waggon might pass, with a
few inches to spare. Afterwards, round about Orleans, I saw this
business of making the roads difficult for the enemy, much more
cunningly contrived, as I shall relate in its place.