VISITORS.--NEW YEAR IN HOSPITAL.--THE CHURCH EVACUATED.--I GET
FURLOUGH,--AND CATCH A NIGHT-GLIMPSE OF PARIS.
Christmas week passed away, and we had anything but a pleasant time of
it. The frost and cold were so intense that it was with much difficulty
we could keep ourselves sufficiently warm to enable us to do our work.
About this time we had several visitors at our quarters. They were
Captain Brackenbury, of the Royal Artillery, Prussian Military Attaché;
Captain Frazer, also of the Artillery; and Colonel Reilly, French
Military Attaché,--the last of whom had been captured in Orleans on the
morning of 7th December, by the Prussians, and kept there ever since. He
was now ordered with an escort of Uhlans to the frontier. We had a great
laugh when he walked into our place on that unlucky 7th; and related
how, on awaking, he found to his surprise that the town was in the
possession of the Germans. It was certainly not pleasant for him.
We had also with us Major de Haveland, a knight of Malta, and, as I was
informed, the only English member of that order. It is well known,
however, that the knights of St. John are divided in their obedience;
and I do not believe that the Grand-Master, who lives in Rome, would
recognise many who in England are spoken of as Maltese Knights. The
major, I presume, was of the Roman Obedience. Two members of the press
were our guests, Mr. Mejonelle of the _Daily Telegraph_ and Mr. Holt
White of the _Pall Mall Gazette._ The former, who was an artist, made
sketches also for the _Graphic._ He has given a representation of Ste.
Euverte, in which several of us figure. The day I was showing him round,
there was a dead soldier laid out on the High Altar, wrapped up in his
sheet, with nothing but his head and toes to be seen. He had been taken
out of one of the beds beside the Altar immediately after his death, so
as to make room for a fresh occupant, and merely laid there while the
infirmarians were arranging the bed. The sight struck our guest
forcibly, as it could not fail to do; it was most uncanny.
These gentlemen expressed their satisfaction at the way in which
everything was carried out at Ste. Euverte, and the clean and decent
condition in which we kept the Hospital, despite the presence of almost
every circumstance which could militate against cleanliness and order.
Another couple of days, and we found ourselves celebrating the
obsequies of the old year, and welcoming, after the fashion of heathens,
the advent of the new, by partaking of the unlimited supply of rum
punch, which nigger Charlie served up. I have already praised it.
On the evening of New Year we dined together, and toasted not only our
noble selves, but our respective countries, homes and friends;
endeavouring to feel as happy as possible in the midst of occupations
which demanded good spirits as the best way of keeping up our health and
courage. It would be unfair to nigger Charlie if I forgot his most
eloquent and humorous oration, delivered in choice Virginian or negro
dialect, in reply to the toast of his health which Colonel Hozier
proposed. The most remarkable portion of it was, perhaps, that in which
Charlie exulted over the former wealth and greatness of Dr. Pratt's
family, as large slave-owners! What could a Declaration of Independence
do for such feudal enthusiasm as this?
The weather continued bitterly cold; and Henry Schroeder, the
sub-lieutenant whom I mentioned as having been shot at Beaugency by one
of his own men, asked me as a favour to find quarters for him in some
private house in the town. After much trouble I heard, by accident, that
at the convent of Notre Dame des Récouvrances, the superior, Mère
Pauline, desired much that the cloisters, dormitories and schoolrooms
which the convent possessed, should be occupied by our Ambulance. The
Sisters were afraid lest the Germans should establish in their house an
Ambulance of their own, to which the nuns highly objected.
But the fact that Mère Pauline was an Englishwoman, in great measure
accounted for her anxiety to have us. I need hardly say that I did not
want much pressing; at once I had Schroeder, Rüdiger, and four or five
others, removed into their new quarters, and took formal possession in
the name of the Ambulance.
Here, in good beds and warm rooms, with every care and attention paid to
them, and good food to eat, they were very snug and comfortable--a
pleasing contrast to the cold, dreary church which they had just left. I
appointed one nurse, Soeur Léopoldine, to look after these men, whose
number, in a few days, I increased to ten, so that I had quite a
hospital there, though on a small scale.
The patient named Rüdiger, a young fellow of seventeen, and a volunteer,
whose leg was fractured, became a particular favourite with his nurse
and with Mère Pauline. He had not a hair on his face, which was of a
ruddy hue, and wore a perpetual smile. He spent his time mostly in
learning the French Grammar, a task in which he was helped by Soeur
Léopoldine during her spare moments. Most of the others were Bavarians,
and, I must say, a sleepy uninteresting lot.
Schroeder was the son of a wealthy tobacco and wine merchant in Hamburg.
He had one brother, who was captain in an infantry regiment. Their
mother was still living. He told me with pride that he had supplied
Bismarck with many a cigar; and promised me a case of them and a barrel
of oysters, when he returned. Poor fellow, he little knew what was
coming; for at this time he was comparatively strong, and, in the
opinion of many, out of danger. But, from my conversations with him, I
learned that his family history was very bad; and from the first had
grave misgivings about his case, which, however, it was my duty to
disguise from him. When, occasionally, without being able to help it, I
looked serious, he used only to laugh, and chaff me, singing, in the
most comical way possible, the well-known English ditty, "Champagne
Charley is my name". I liked Schroeder.
I now put two of my men from Ste. Euverte into No. 44 Rue de Bourdon
Blanc. They were Martin Dilger, my old patient--the survivor of the
railway-shed--and Jacob Venheiser. There they received the kindest care
and attention from their good host and hostess, M. and Madame B----.
By 4th January I had removed all my worst cases into private quarters in
the town; leaving only about a dozen in the church, all of which were
now on the high road to convalescence, and fit to be removed to Germany
by the next ambulance train. On this happy disposal of my patients I had
greatly to congratulate myself; for just now pyæmia and hospital
gangrene of the worst type, showed themselves in the church; and we knew
from our experiences at Sedan and the railway station how sure they were
to be attended by terrible results, where such a number of wounded were
kept together.
And so it proved now. In a few days, blood-poisoning made great havoc
among the men, and its victims lay piled one above another in the
dead-house,--truly a sorry sight for those who had spent so much care on
them! We determined at once to evacuate the church; for even the
convalescent were not safe from this dread malady, which some of the
savants in our profession tell us is preventable; such, however, is not
my experience. Disinfectants and carbolic-acid dressings were used
unsparingly. Fresh air, as I have said, is of paramount importance in
the management of this disease; and it must come to the patient in a
continuous current,--moreover, to be effective, it must be dry air,
while about the patient it requires to be warm, or at least the patient
himself must be warm, and at no time suffer a chill. Every day the
members of our staff eagerly sought new quarters for their wounded in
the private houses of the town, which was now not a difficult task, the
garrison not being very large, for Orleans had ceased to be that
theatre of war which heretofore it had been.
As time rolled on, and fresh arrivals did not come in, we had more
leisure. And well for me that it happened so! I had begun to find the
work tell upon my health, and now a little relaxation was as necessary
as it was agreeable.
During all this time no startling event happened, save an attempt that
was made by some demented person at Orleans to assassinate a Prussian
soldier. For this offence a fine of 600,000 francs was levied on the
town; and to show the amount of trade which was carried on by the French
with the invaders, out of this sum imposed, 400,000 francs were paid
down in Prussian money. The fine was demanded on the 16th, and paid up
fully on the 23rd of December.
Now, as I was daily beginning to feel more and more exhausted, and
feared my health was becoming undermined, I determined to seek leave of
absence for a few weeks. Dr. Tilghman, who was again _locum tenens_
during Dr. Pratt's absence on business for ten days, knew how much I
wanted a change, and did not hesitate to give me leave, under condition
that I would report myself again before that day month. A matter of
urgent private business obliged Dr. Sherwell to start for Hamburg on the
next day, and I resolved to get ready that evening, 7th Jan., 1871.
I went with Dr. Fritz to the Commandant of the place and the Head
Military Surgeon, from whom I obtained sick passes all through France
and Germany, and Railway and Hotel billets free. The Northern parts were
still in the hands of the French, so that I had no chance of getting
home in that direction. I handed over my cases to the care of Dr.
Parker, who, with his usual good nature, promised to give them his best
attention in my absence. I made as little as possible of my departure to
them, merely saying that I should be back at the end of some days.
At six o'clock next morning Dr. Sherwell and I were at the Railway
Station, where we found that a train full of wounded was to be put under
our charge as far as Corbeil. Our way of getting on was a novel one, for
we were to be drawn by horses the whole distance. After much confusion
and waiting we started. The entire train was composed of goods trucks,
in which the wounded were laid on straw, using their rugs to cover them.
There were many officers among them who took pot luck with the men, for
there was no special accommodation. Every three trucks were drawn by
four horses, and thus it was that we took the train to Corbeil,--a
distance of some fifty miles.
The morning was bitterly cold, and a dense fog hung about, which made it
hard for us to keep ourselves warm; but matters mended when we came to
Artenay, where hot soup and bread were awaiting us.
In one of the trucks sat Martin Dilger and one or two other of my
patients, all in high spirits at the thought of getting back to the
Fatherland, though minus a limb each. In another carriage we had a
company of soldiers as an escort to the cavalcade, and these made
themselves useful when required.
Thus we went along at a snail's pace; but Sherwell and I got out now and
then, and ran ahead of the train to warm ourselves, for the weather did
not mend, and many of our charges suffered severely from it. During the
journey I fell into conversation with the sergeant of our guard, a mere
lad, like so many others, and a volunteer. He spoke English well, with
hardly any accent, and had lived and studied in London during the past
two years, hence his knowledge of the language. He had been at
Gravelotte, of which tremendous affair he gave me a most interesting
account.
He was a gentle youth, with a soft musical voice, and plainly of
position, as well as education. He said that he had been recommended for
the Iron Cross. Here was the third volunteer I had met under the age of
twenty, and all three were of good social standing.
There was one old wounded colonel who had a large flask bottle of
chartreuse, with which he repeatedly plied Sherwell and me during the
journey. I think we neither of us disliked it just then. The next stop
we made was at Étampes, where we remained half an hour to have some hot
coffee served out. At dusk we had got as far as Juviose, where we
changed lines, and in due time arrived at Corbeil about 8 P.M. Our
convoy excited notice and wonder among the country people in the
districts which we passed, and in many places they came out in crowds to
see us go along. When we arrived at Corbeil, we called on the
Etappen-commandant, got our passes checked, and went to the major for
our billet and rations,--in other words, our requisition for board and
lodging, which he gave us on a very snug well-furnished little house in
a central part of the town. Having dined off a piece of coarse beef and
some bread and beer, we strolled out for a short time. Next morning we
were up betimes, and went out to see the town, which is a quaint old
place. We stood on the ruins of the bridge, which we had crossed over on
piles and planks, in the parts where it had been damaged by the French
explosion. It formed a pretty sight when seen at a little distance.
What struck me most about the place was that all the trade of the town
seemed to be in the hands of German sutlers, principally Jews, who had
followed in the footsteps of the army. Few of the inhabitants kept
establishments open for the sale of merchandise. In one of these shops
where we turned in to buy some trifles, we met a friendly German
civilian, who told us that our best route eastwards was by Lagny, beyond
Paris,--a station some forty miles from Corbeil--which was in direct
railway communication with the Rhine. He added that a convoy of
provision was to leave at noon for that place, and advised us to secure
a seat in one of the waggons. Accordingly, we found out the conductor,
promised him a couple of thalers for the lift, and secured places in one
of the least uncomfortable of these vans. It was, by the way, of very
simple construction. The body, made of osier-work and tapering to a
point, rested on a heavy beam which ran lengthwise, and which rested, in
turn, on the pair of axles, the upper part being supported by stays
which went from the main ribs of the boxes of the wheels; in short, the
whole resembled a boat resting on a piece of timber, which again found
support on the axles. Then there were twists of osiers overhead, covered
with canvas which made the thing like a gipsy's tent.
In this queer turn-out we started from Corbeil, drawn by two Dutch
ponies; but, though our horses were fresh and spirited, our progress was
very slow, the ground being as slippery as ice. Just before nightfall it
began to snow hard, and when we came to the hamlet of Brie, our
conductor would go no further. The roughing on his horses' shoes was
worn, and it would be too dangerous for us to travel at night on such
unendurable roads.
We got down, therefore, rather unwillingly, with our traps in our hands;
and going about in quest of lodgings for the night, as fortune would
have it, we espied at the further end of the village a line of waggons
similar to that which we had just left. Upon hailing the conductor, we
found that they also were for Lagny, and starting at once; so that again
we took our seats, this time in a waggon load of hay, which helped to
keep us warm, or, at all events, prevented us from being thoroughly
frozen. It was snowing fast, and by now was quite dark. We thought the
cold fearful. As we went along the horses seemed to take it in turns to
fall; but sometimes our ponies would be down together; happily, they
were not encumbered with harness, and soon righted themselves. Yet, once
or twice it took the united ingenuity of us all to extricate them from
the rope-traces, in which their legs had become entangled.
We had a lantern hung out over the front of our waggon, by the dim light
of which we were barely able to see the road before us. In time, to our
great relief, the snow-storm, which had lasted for hours, cleared up. We
had been afraid that our steeds would either miss the road, or tumble us
into a ditch. At one place I got out, and trudged through the snow for a
couple of miles. There was a part of this road turning round the crest
of a hill, from which we could see the flashes from the forts round
Paris, and hear the booming of the cannon distinctly. Several times I
saw the little thin streak of sparks rising into the sky, which the fuse
of the bombshells threw out on their journey, while sudden flashes in
the air, followed by a loud report, signified that a shell had
prematurely burst.
It was a splendid sight, and resolving to get the best view possible, I
climbed into an apple tree by the way side, where, kneeling on a huge
bunch of mistletoe, I could see every few minutes a shot directed from
the forts and one in reply, each leaving its comet-like train of fire
behind it. Though the besiegers and the besieged were many miles
distant, I could hardly realise that they were not close at hand. So
little, at the time, did I comprehend the magnitude of the siege guns,
and the remoteness at which they could be heard. Much as I should have
liked to linger on the scene, I could not tarry; I had to come down from
my apple tree, and trot along until I had rejoined my waggon. Such was
my second glimpse, and that at night, of the siege of Paris. My first,
if the reader has not forgotten it, showed me the assault which ended in
the burning of St. Cloud.