DESECRATION OF THE CATHEDRAL.--MY FIRST CAPITAL OPERATION.--MORE
FIGHTING.--WOUNDED BAVARIANS.
Soon after the mayor had issued his parlementaire, all the French
prisoners, to the number, as I have said, of 10,000, were marched into
the Cathedral, where they were confined until such time as preparations
could be made for their transport into Germany.
As the weather was bitterly cold, the prisoners--it will be remembered
that they were French and Catholic--began at once to break up the chairs
and benches with which to make fires. These they kindled at the base of
the great stone pillars for which the Cathedral is celebrated. Towards
evening, as I happened to pass that way, I saw the men and lads warming
themselves at these great blazing fires, that lighted up the whole
edifice, the roof of which, however, could scarcely be seen through the
wreaths of thick smoke that formed a dense cloud overhead. It was an
ungodly spectacle, the more so that many of the men sang and joked,
while one amused himself at the organ.
I confess the scene was very disagreeable to me. Every now and then one
of these fellows would lay hold of a chair, and with one blow shatter it
in pieces against the tiles or the nearest pillar, and then cast the
fragments into the blaze. There they sat, smoking, eating, and
drinking,--what little they could get to eat and drink,--cursing
Bismarck and the Emperor, and rehearsing that oft-told preposterous lie,
how universal treachery was the cause of their presence there that
night. I stood for some time looking on at a display which, if curious,
was still more revolting. The stalls of the Sanctuary, which I had seen
a few days previously graced by the canons and other dignitaries who
surrounded Monseigneur Dupanloup, during the pomp and splendour of the
Episcopal ceremonies, and at High Mass, were now filled with the vilest
of the French soldiery, some of whom lolled about at their leisure and
conversed together, while others, overcome by hunger and fatigue, were
lying fast asleep all over the church. On the steps of the High Altar
fellows were stretched out in deep slumber, and not one appeared to
regard the nature of the place in which they were quartered. The lines
of fires down each side of the building, the din and the confusion to
which this herd of men gave rise, and the manner in which they seemed to
be swarming about all parts of the Cathedral, as the light of the fires
glanced on them, made an extraordinary combination, and one might have
fancied that the age of Gil Blas had returned in the nineteenth century.
For two days the Cathedral was possessed by this motley congregation;
then the prisoners were sent off in batches by train from Orleans, and
we were glad to get rid of them. Their destination, as usual, was over
the Rhine.
I met one of these convoys on their way to the station. They were
marched, or rather driven along, before half a dozen mounted troopers;
and when any straggled or fell behind, these put spurs to their chargers
and rode in amongst their captives, in some instances trampling them
under the horses' feet, and lashing them with their riding whips in the
most wanton manner. The sight was enough to make one's blood boil. Had
any one told me of such a thing, I should have received his statement
with caution, if not with distrust; but I relate that of which I was
myself an eye-witness. When I had cooled down a little, I consoled
myself with the idea that such was the treatment which these very
Germans received at the hands of their own officers and under-officers,
while going through their training and their drill, as I have already
testified from personal observation. They gave the French, therefore,
only what they had been treated to themselves.
During the whole of the 6th and 7th, and the intervening night, we were
hard at work in the Hospital, the greater part of our time being taken
up at the operation table. I may here mention a fact, which is highly
interesting to me, _viz._, that now, by permission of our chief, I
performed my first capital operation, in a case of compound comminuted
fracture of the bone of the arm, which I had to amputate below the
shoulder. Nor were the circumstances of the place in which I went
through my task, of a common sort. It was Sunday morning; and the
operation table stood in a side chapel, at the foot of the Lady Altar,
not many yards from the Shrine of Ste. Euverte. But although one's first
impressions might be that such work, on such a spot, was a profanation,
yet on second thoughts it will not appear so. The deed, though
sanguinary, was not cruel; and where should the wounded find refuge if
not under the sacred roof?
On the evening of the 7th, we received intelligence that the Germans had
come up with the French army; that fighting had begun; and that a
general engagement was expected. Accordingly, Dr. Tilghman, with May and
Mackellar, started with a supply of surgical appliances and waggons for
bringing the wounded off the field.
I was set down for work at the Hospital, and did not go with them. But
Dr. Tilghman subsequently gave me a full account of the whole affair,
and described the carnage as very great. The town of Beaugency and the
neighbouring villages were literally crammed with wounded; and they had
hardly any one to look after them, and but very little to eat. In fact,
so scarce were provisions that many sank from privation alone,
aggravated, indeed, by the bitter cold, which just at this time was
intense. He mentioned, among other ghastly details, that owing to the
hard frost, the bodies of the slain were glued to the ground, while
their clothes were so hard and stiff that it was impossible to move the
dead from where they lay.
Dr. Tilghman returned on the 10th with his _confrères_, bringing some
waggon-loads of wounded. That the fighting about Beaugency had been
severe I could discern from the appearance of all that was left of the
Bavarian army, which returned to Orleans about the 14th. Jaded and
fatigued, spattered with mud, with their uniforms in some instances
torn, and their plumes lost, they trudged sulkily and silently into the
town. About 8000 of all ranks had survived of the 30,000 men that left
Germany. They, too, like the French, were a contrast to their North
German brethren in arms. But, as usual, they had been set in the
forefront of the hottest battle; they had everywhere borne the brunt
against vastly superior forces; and had in the end conquered, though at
the expense of half their numbers. From the beginning of the war this
had been the inevitable fate of the Bavarians; they were butchered to
make the new German Empire.
In return for these heroic services, the Prussians affected to look down
on them; they snubbed them openly; and took pains to hinder rather than
to cultivate a friendly feeling between themselves and their Southern
allies. I have seen quarrels take place in private houses where
Prussians and Bavarians were billeted together, simply because my lords
of Brandenburg disdained to share their quarters with King Ludwig's men.
Such bickerings went from words to blows, in which the hearty ill-will
of both branches of the great Teutonic race to one another became only
too visible.
In the week which followed the battle of Beaugency, nothing happened
worthy of special record; we were always at work from daylight to dark,
and fresh convoys of wounded were brought in daily from that
neighbourhood. When one has such an absorbing subject of interest as the
routine of an Ambulance, from its very nature, and especially after a
severe engagement, the days pass like hours. So it was with us; for,
except an occasional few minutes which we spent in listening to the
splendid military bands that performed every day in the Place Jeanne
d'Arc, we had little to divert our minds from our business. There is,
however, a matter of interest connected with the battle of Beaugency
that I will ask leave to set down here.
The 11th Prussian infantry regiment, serving under the Red Prince,
had suffered severely, and were nearly decimated on the 8th December.
Six of these men came under my care. One of them gave me the following
history of a most dangerous bullet wound, which he had received
through the upper arm. His name was Henry Schroeder, under-officer
(_Unter-officier_) in that regiment, and he spoke French fluently and
English intelligibly. He was advancing with his company along the skirts
of a wood, in the face of a most murderous fire from the French, and his
men were falling on all sides, when he perceived two of these, whom he
knew to be rascals, edging away from the rest into the wood, with the
clear intent of shirking their duty, and endeavouring to screen
themselves from the fire.
He sent a soldier to them with this message, that he would have them
shot forthwith, unless they returned to their places. Not many minutes
had elapsed, when, in the confusion and heat of a charge, as they were
bursting along in the open, he received a bullet from behind which
felled him to the earth. A single glance made him aware that these two
miscreants were at his back, but were now hard at work against the
enemy.
This poor fellow, of whom we shall hear more later on, eventually
succumbed, at home in Hamburg, to his wounds. He died with the firm
conviction that it was one of these two villains who had shot him,
though, of course, no one could prove it against the man.
Just about this time it happened that I got permission from Dr. May to
amputate a thigh midway between the hip and the knee. As I was on the
point of making the first incision, who should walk up to the operation
table but Professor Langenbeck, of Berlin? This great person had come
into the Hospital to glance at our surgical work, and to observe the
manner in which we treated his Imperial master's subjects. For a moment,
the presence of perhaps the greatest military surgeon living, and the
father of German field surgery, made me very uncomfortable. However, I
regained my self-possession pretty quickly, and was fortunate enough to
get through the operation without a hitch or misadventure, receiving at
the end a gracious bow, and a "_Sehr schön, mein Herr_," from the old
veteran, who diligently smoked a cigar all the while. I need hardly add
that my _confrères_ had a great laugh over the incident, and at my
sudden exhibition of panic, which they assured me was quite evident.
In our Hospital we made, as far as possible, an equal division of
labour, by allowing to each man so many beds. Though I was only an
assistant surgeon by promotion, I had practically the position of
surgeon and not assistant, having the sole charge of my division, which
consisted of all the beds between the pillars and the wall down the
middle aisle of the Church, and numbered about thirty-three. It must be
remembered that these beds were occupied by none but the gravely
wounded, and that we had under our charge numbers of others, placed out
in private houses through the town, along with those who were billeted
in the houses just outside the Church. These last were under the same
management as those in Ste. Euverte itself.
About the 18th December an incident occurred which caused some stir
among our circle. Mr. Frederick Wombwell, who had started the previous
day for Versailles to bring back medical stores, arrived with the
intelligence that Dr. Pratt and Captain Hozier had been arrested in
Étampes. It seems that they had met Captain Keith Fraser and the
correspondent of the _Illustrated London News_, as also the
correspondent of the _Pall Mall Gazette_, on their way to Versailles,
and that whole party fraternised and dined together at the hotel. The
Prussian Commandant's suspicions were aroused by this convivial meeting
of foreigners, and he promptly placed them under arrest. Captain Hozier
and Dr. Pratt, after a day's detention, were allowed to return to
Orleans; but Captain Fraser and his two companions were sent on to
Versailles under a heavy escort of dragoons, at which place they were
liberated without delay.
Just about this time, also, there was much excitement caused by the
arrival from Kiel of two hundred sailors to man the gunboats on the
Loire, which had been captured from the French. These bearded tars were
fine, burly fellows, and to judge by their rollicking spirits seemed to
enjoy the prospect of the job before them.
Another week elapsed in the old routine, without any stirring events
having come to pass, and we found ourselves on the eve of Christmas, but
with nothing to remind us of its approach, save the snow, which lay more
than a foot deep on the ground, and the intense cold of the weather. It
was freezing so hard, both in and out of doors, that the water in the
jug and basin of my bedroom became almost a solid mass.
The manner in which we spent Christmas Day may be described in five
words,--it was all hard work. Nevertheless, we contrived in the
afternoon to have a good dinner, and a little jollification over a
blazing fire in our quarters on the Quai. The custom of Midnight Mass,
so impressive in Catholic countries, had been this year abrogated by the
Bishop's order. And there was no religious service for our wounded,
though all had been arranged with a view to it. I ought not to omit the
reason, which was hardly, in my judgment, a sound one. The hour fixed
for Mass was 7 A.M. It came to pass, however, that when in the morning
the old Curé learned that the Protestant Chaplain had been before him,
and had preached a sermon to his Protestant brethren from the pulpit, he
straightway refused to begin his own service. I confess I was much
scandalised at this unreasonable exhibition of bigotry. Under the
circumstances, I hold, the Protestant Chaplain only did what it was
perfectly right and proper that he should do. And I expressed that
opinion pretty strongly to the Sisters of Charity, and the Curé himself,
who was referred to me as the only Roman Catholic on the staff.
However, we dressed the Church with holly and ivy, and had a Christmas
tree in the middle decorated with ribbons. We likewise gave each man a
flannel shirt and a pair of drawers, which were looked upon by them as
most appropriate and acceptable Christmas boxes.
Friends have asked me since how much I saw of that famous Bishop
Dupanloup, and what was his line of conduct during the German
occupation. I can but reply, that I never saw him in the city. All the
while he remained shut up in his palace, the greater part of which had
been converted into ambulance wards, despite a vehement protest from the
cathedral chapter. But their protest did not avail; and when the very
churches had to serve as hospitals for the wounded, and accommodation
was everywhere less than sufficient, I do not know that even a Bishop's
palace could have been exempted from so plain a duty of love and
compassion towards the suffering, whether friends or foes.