AN APPENDIX.--M. AND MADAME COLOMBIER.--VISIT TO THE BATTLEFIELD OF
COULMIERS.--THE SOLE FRENCH VICTORY.--CONCLUSION.
(_From Arthur Ryan's Diary, Wednesday, 19th April._)
Our déjeûner had not long been over when a carriage drove up, and
Charlie bade me prepare for a drive with some friends into the country.
We wished M. and Madame Proust good-bye for the day, and stepped into
the carriage, where our new host and hostess were awaiting us. M. and
Madame Colombier welcomed me cordially as the brother of their friend,
and I was not long in their company before I knew how truly they had
been such to him. M. Colombier had been a Papal Zouave, but, on the
outbreak of the Franco-Prussian war, had joined the ranks of his
countrymen. A middle-aged man with a frank warm manner, and evidently
very proud of his wife,--as well he might be. I have seen but little of
men or women; but I fancy that many years of experience may fail to
remove Madame Colombier from the place she gained that day in my
estimation. She was a heroine, and, what is still rarer, a humble
heroine. Being a Canadian she spoke English very fairly; and as we drove
along she told us many stories of her war experiences, and with so much
gaiety that I felt it hard to believe those experiences had been so
often bitter ones to her and her husband. Privations, loss of property,
personal danger, all were related as if she were inventing and not
recording; all were jested about whenever they affected only herself.
But when she spoke of the sufferings of others, of her husband's danger,
of the poor soldiers whom she had lodged and tended to the last, then
her woman's heart revealed itself, and showed that though gay it was
tender, though buoyant it was thoroughly unselfish; and, through all,
she seemed so perfectly unconscious of any merit on her part, that one
would have thought that her services had been remunerative or a part of
her ordinary duty, instead of absorbing as they did the great part of
what the war had left them.
A shower came on, and to my surprise Madame Colombier unpinned her warm
shawl, and insisted in wrapping Charlie up in it, lest in his weak state
he should take cold. "This is my campaigning dress," said she, as I
expressed my fears as to the insufficiency of her black silk dress in
the teeth of the driving rain; but little she seemed to care, her only
anxiety being to shield the "poor invalid" from the storm.
After what seemed a short drive, we were so pleasant together, we came
to the battlefield of Coulmiers. On each side of the road the ground was
littered with the débris of camp fires, and with the straw that had
served to keep some of the soldiers off the frosty ground, as they slept
after their fight. Deep ruts--ploughed by the wheels of the guns, cut up
the roads and fields; but beyond these marks, and the general bare,
down-trodden look of the ground, nothing remained to speak of the
terrible battle that had so lately covered these fields with the dead
and dying. But as we drove into the Château Renardier, M. Colombier's
country place, the sad remembrances of war were multiplied ten-fold. The
great trees on each side of the drive were riven in all directions, by
the shot and shells; and I remarked several thick firs cut clean in two
by what was evidently a single shot.
But here we are at the Château. It was a large house, in the regular
French style, prettily situated in the midst of a well-planted lawn. It
was not, however, at the architecture of the house, nor at the beauties
of the lawn, that I looked, as I drove up. No: what riveted my gaze was
the number of round holes that perforated the front in every direction.
The shells had done their work well; shattered windows and pierced walls
were sorry sights for M. Colombier to show his guests; and little more
could be seen of the Château Renardier on the front side. As we
entered, and passed from room to room, we began to realise the full
extent of the damage. Deep stains of blood were on the dark oak floors,
which in many places had been splintered by the bursting shells. Madame
Colombier took us to her boudoir. Panelled in gold and white, it must
have been a lovely room--but now it was a wreck. Right through the
mirrors had the splintered shells crashed; in one corner of the rich
ceiling the sky was visible through a large shot hole,--"and here," said
our hostess, "here they used to skin their sheep"; and she pointed to
the chandelier, which had sadly suffered from its unwonted use, and
beneath which the floor was stained, this time not with human gore.
"This is my room," said M. Colombier, as he showed us into the billiard
room. The slate table was cracked in two, and on the tattered green
cloth lay the remains of the oats which had fed the horses; for that
room had served as a stable.
We passed into the garden. It had been the scene of a French bayonet
charge; and little shape remained, or sign of garden beauty, save that
in one trampled bed, we found some plants of the lily of the valley
sprouting to the early spring sunshine. Deep in the gravel walks, and
through the once well-trimmed turf, had the wheels of the guns sunk, as
the Prussians made their hasty retreat before the victorious French;
and it must have been some consolation to the fair owner of this
desolated garden, to think that it was the scene of the solitary French
victory in that disastrous war.
In the front garden every vine was dead, cut from the wall. For the wall
had served as a shelter for the German soldiers, and was pierced all
along for rifle rests, and by every hole was a heap of empty cartridge
cases. The greenhouse and conservatories,--who shall tell their ruin?
Glass is a poor protection against artillery, and the fierce frost had
completed the work. There were the plants all arranged on their stands;
there stood the orange trees--all were dead and brown--not a twig was
alive. I thought of my mother and her flowers, as Madame Colombier
turned with a sigh from her ruined conservatory, and walked back through
the melancholy garden. But she was gay enough, though her husband seemed
to feel deeply the destruction of his lovely home. He had been married
but five years, and had spent much money in making this a happy spot for
his wife and children--and now, the wreck! But even M. Colombier laughed
with us when we came to the piles of empty bottles that lay in the yard;
they were all that was left of two well-filled cellars. The French
soldiers had celebrated their victory at the expense of the master of
the Château Renardier.
In the coach-house were Madame Colombier's two broughams; they had been
used in the battle as temporary fortifications, and were literally
riddled with bullets. We walked to the fish pond--a piece of ornamental
water in the lawn. It had been netted, and not a fish was left. I
stumbled on something under the trees by its brink. It was a Prussian
cavalry saddle, not a comfortable-looking thing, thought I, as I
surveyed the angular hide-covered wood,--but certainly economical when
it is so easily lost. But evening was coming on; so having had lunch in
the Château (the strangest ruin I ever picnicked in), we bade adieu to
Renardier, and drove back to Orleans.
M. Colombier's house there had, like his country château, been used
during the war as a little hospital; and Charlie told me, as he waited
in the drawing-room before dinner, how many wounded and dying inmates
that room lately had.
Dinner was served in an ante-room, for which Madame Colombier made her
apologies, as her dining-room was occupied--by whom we presently saw.
Having dined heartily, and been highly amused by the penalties with
which the children threatened the Prussians,--such as feeding them on
poisonous mushrooms, wood, and such like, I was surprised by Madame
Colombier taking out a cigar case, handing it round, and helping
herself. "Necessity has made me a smoker," she laughingly observed, as
she saw my ill-concealed wonder; and if any lady would condemn my
hostess for her cigar, let her follow Madame Colombier as she slips
quietly out; and see for herself how false is that delicacy which would
place a difficulty in the way of true and heroic Christian charity. We
were not long before we followed our hostess. We found her in her
dining-room, which had been fitted up as a temporary hospital. There she
was tending the wound of her last patient, with a skill which was the
result of long and hard-earned experience. And here we will leave Madame
Colombier, with the firm trust that her unselfish charity and
unostentatious heroism will not go unrewarded before Him, who has
promised to repay a cup of cold water given for His sake.
EPILOGUE.
A quarter of a century has elapsed since the occurrence of the events
which I have described. When I view the scenes of those eventful days
through this long vista, and when sometimes for a moment one particular
picture of hospital or camp life presents itself before my mind, I start
as if awakened from a troubled dream, to find there still the shape and
form of fact.
The years have come and gone, and with them have passed away many of the
principal actors in that great drama.
Wilhelm, Napoléon, Moltke, the Crown Prince, the Red Prince, Gambetta,
d'Aureille de Paladine, Bazaine, MacMahon, have disappeared from the
stage.
Modern surgery and medicine have lost some of their ablest pioneers in
Langenbeck, Nussbaum, Esmark and Marion Sims; and I personally have to
mourn for many who were kindly and helpful to me in those days, amongst
them M. and Madame Proust and General Charles Brackenbury.
I have often wished to revisit Sedan and Orleans; but the desire to make
the most of a somewhat limited holiday-time, and to gain fresh
experiences, has always led me to new districts and countries previously
unknown to me, and I have never had my wish fulfilled. I am glad to say,
however, that I never quite lost sight of my old friends M. and Madame
Proust, and a visit from their nephew revived all the old associations
and remembrances afresh.
It may interest my readers to hear something of our ambulance surgeons.
Sir William MacCormac, who succeeded Marion Sims at Sedan, is now one of
the greatest living authorities on military surgery and gunshot wounds.
His colleague Dr. Mackellar is distinguished on the staff of St.
Thomas's Hospital, and Dr. Parker is an eminent London specialist. The
others, scattered over the face of the globe, I have lost sight of, but
would fain hope one day to meet some of them again.
One object I have had in view in publishing these notes may be worthy of
mention.
As I have tried to write down exactly what I witnessed, they may help to
afford some idea of what war really means,--war as a hard practical
fact--stripped of all the glamour, and poetry, and pride of conquest,
that are so attractive when seen in history.
Even from my own observations I could gather that all is not victory to
the victors themselves.
When the German soldiery learnt that Louis Napoléon was present in the
trap at Sedan, there broke out among them the wildest exhibition of
delight; for they believed--wrongly as it came to pass--that his capture
would end the war and enable them to go back to their homes. And when
peace was finally proclaimed, the Germans in Orleans were no less
demonstrative and enthusiastic than the French, whose cup of suffering
had been filled to overflowing.
Now-a-days there is perhaps a tendency to undervalue this aspect of the
case. People talk very lightly of the great European war that is said to
be inevitable. It can do no harm to measure as far as possible what such
a war may mean.
Those who count the cost in advance are far more likely to be able to
meet it, should the necessity arise, and to bear themselves resolutely
and bravely to the end, whatever the event, than those who rush blindly
forward, depending mainly on enthusiasm for organisation, and on the
reputation of the past to achieve victories in the future. That seems to
be the great lesson taught by the war of 1870 and 1871.
There never was, perhaps, a more flagrant instance of disregard for that
wise Shakesperian saying familiar to us all:--
"Beware
Of entrance to a quarrel: but, being in,
Bear it that the opposed may beware of thee".
However, my readers will probably be disposed to form their own opinions
on these subjects, and will have far more attractive material elsewhere
on which to found them.
Before concluding, I think I am not out of order in mentioning a notable
occurrence which took place during the year 1895, and which to my mind
affords a favourable augury for the future of France. I mean the
celebration at Orleans, with all the pomp and ceremony due to the
occasion, of the festival of Jeanne d'Arc. From the general enthusiasm
then displayed by the French people, I cannot help thinking that greater
things and brighter hopes are in store for that beautiful country, the
fortunes of which have ever been as dramatic in their circumstances as
they are interesting in themselves.
Finally, I wish here to record, if I may, my own admiration, sympathy
and delight in the bright and genial character of the French, and to
bear witness that as this feeling was at first so it is now; nor do I
think it will ever change.
My task is finished. Though the re-writing of these notes has been a
source of great pleasure to me, bringing back as it does old memories
and picturesque scenes so vividly, yet I lay aside the unaccustomed pen
with--perhaps not unnaturally--some little sense of relief, trusting to
the indulgence of my readers that they will overlook the blemishes
incidental to a first literary performance. And thus I bid them
farewell.
THE END.
[Illustration: PART OF FRANCE
To illustrate the journey of D^r. Ryan from Sedan to Orleans, 1870-1.
London, John Murray, Albemarle St.
Edw^d. Weller]
INDEX.
A.
Ambulance, Anglo-American: staff, 27;
labours at Sedan, 47-59, 79;
routine, 71;
discipline, 73;
additional staff, 89;
number of operations, 93;
use of antiseptics, 96;
transferred to German side, 108, 143;
fresh arrangements, 115;
leaves Sedan, 116;
at Orleans, 160 to end;
routine there, 166;
at battle of Coulmiers, 194-207;
evacuates terminus, 215;
given French _infirmiers_, 223;
visited by M. Crémieux, 231;
critical position, 232;
at battle of Neuville, 242, _seq._;
at Patay, 253;
at Beaugency, 283;
disbanded, 343.
Ambulance, Belgian, 21.
Ambulance, French, 16;
want of discipline, 82, 103, 114;
broken up, 121.
Ambulance, German: treatment of French wounded, 81;
at Floing, 107;
amputation, Dr. Ryan's first, 166.
Antiseptic treatment, 96.
Ardennes, Forest, 113.
Arlon, 115.
Arpajon, 153.
Artenay, 154.
Asfeld, Caserne d', 39-49, 59.
B.
Bavarians: cavalry, 140;
occupy Orleans, 176;
fighting there, 176;
their religious behaviour, 185;
losses, 189;
evacuate Orleans, 190;
at Coulmiers, 195;
retreat, 196;
leave dead on field, 200;
at Beaugency, 285;
despised by Prussians, 284.
Bayonne, Père, 43, 94.
Bazeilles, burning of, 53, 56, 85;
visit to, 87.
Beaugency, battle, 282, _seq._
Beaumont, village, 35.
Beck, 89, 107.
Berthe, Soeur, 235, 303, 348, 351.
Bilotte, Intendant Militaire, at Sedan, 72.
Bismarck, Count, 83, 147, 217.
"Black and Tans," the, 113.
Blood poisoning, 91;
open-air treatment, 108;
at Orleans, 179, 183, 310.
Bonjour, M., 252.
Bouglet, Dr., 345, seq.
Bouillon, town and castle, 112, 117.
Bourbaki, General, 226.
Brackenbury, Captain C., 115, 121, 334-337.
Brussels, 5, 8, 118, 120.
Burnside, General, 142.
C.
Cahirmee, Horse Fair, 119.
Carignan, village, 22.
Caserne d'Asfeld, 39, _seq._, 49, 59.
Caserne St. Charles, at Orleans, 217-219.
Cases, remarkable, 179, and _passim_.
Cathedral, Orleans, desecrated, 280.
Charlie, Nigger, 61, 94, 142, 233, 307, 339, 342.
Château Bellevue, 83, 114.
Château Mouville, 56.
Château Renardier, 196, 207, 354.
Châtelet, Marquise de, 324.
Châtelet, Quai du, 160 to end.
Cavalry, African, 255.
Cavalry, Bavarian, 140.
Chevilly, village, 56;
battle, 251, _seq._
Chivry, 318.
Chizelles, Vicomte de, 32.
Churches desecrated, 153.
Colombier, M. and Mme., 353, _seq._
_Conscrit, Le_, incident resembling, 99.
Corbeil, 312, 314.
Coulmiers, battle, 191, 193, 209;
visit to field, 353 _seq._
Crémieux, M., 231.
D.
D'Allaine, M., 217.
_Débâcle, La_, accuracy of, 57.
D'Iges, Isle of, 75, _seq._
Dilger, Martin, 181, 218, 309, 313.
Donchery, village, 41.
Douai, General, killed, 100.
Douzy, village, burning of, 42.
Ducrot, General, 48, 251.
Dupanloup, Bishop, 289.
E.
Étampes, 154, 197, 338.
Eugénie, Empress, 17.
Euverte, Ste., Church of, 252, 273, _seq._;
evacuated, 310.
F.
Failly de, General, 34.
Flavigny, Count de, 29.
Floing, Plain of, 39.
Francs-Tireurs, 126, 177.
Francs-Tireurs, American, 226.
Frank, Dr., 26, 35, 55, 56, 115.
Frazer, Captain, 232, 287.
Frederick Charles, Prince, enters Orleans, 274-276.
French: commissariat breaks down, 34;
Marines, 46;
also at Orleans, 228;
bravery at Patay, 261;
prisoners, 75;
wounded, 81;
miserable clothing, 212;
want of physique, 214;
imaginary victories, 248.
Frénois, village, 40, 83.
Fritz, Dr., 312.
Fugitive peasants, 157.
G.
Gaillon, 124.
Gambetta, M., 197, 217.
Garde Nationale, 23.
Garenne, Bois de, 53, 64, 67.
Geneva Convention, 223.
German: ambition, 276;
treatment of French prisoners, 281;
character and manners, 170;
piety, 185.
Giant, a Bavarian, 204, 274.
Glenbane, 132.
Gravelotte, battle of, 312.
Gunboats on Loire, 229.
H.
Haveland, Major de, 305, 337.
Hayden, Frank, 37, 60, 74, 77, 83, 112, 345, 347.
Hewitt, Dr., 43, 68, 115, 118, 125, 145, 154.
Hohenzollern, Prince of, 141.
Holt White, Mr., 306.
Horses, suffering of, 48, 74.
Hospital: at Sedan, 39, 52-116;
at Balan, 56;
at Orleans railway, 162;
invaded by townsfolk, 202;
au Grand Marché, 217;
at Caserne St. Charles, 2, 8;
at Ste. Euverte, 273-310.
Hozier, Colonel, 232, 287, 307.
I.
_Illustrated London News_, 89.
Isle d'Iges, 75, _seq._
J.
Jean the Turco, 116, 167, 339.
Jeanne d'Arc, 160, 192.
Jews, 314.
Journalism, French, 248.
L.
Labouchère, M., 19, 21, 25.
Lagny, 315, 323.
Langenbeck, Prof., 286.
Léopoldine, Soeur, 308, 339.
Lévy, M. Michel, 14.
Libramont, 118.
Lille, 122.
Lloyd-Lindsay, Col., 27, 143, 333.
Loire, Army of the, 158, 254, 263.
Lundon, Mr. W., 132.
M.
MacCormac, Dr. (now Sir W.), at Sedan, 47, 68, 70, 90, 97, 111, 115.
Mackellar, Dr., 89, 145, 209, 224, 282.
MacMahon, Marshal, 31, 83.
Madeleine, La, 16, 28.
Manners, French, 161;
German, 148, 172.
Mantes, 135, 138.
Maps, requisitioned, 231.
Marfée, Heights, 35, 41, _seq._
Marly, 140.
May, Dr., 36, 47, 49, 71, 97, 99, 114, 245, 282, 340.
McLoughlin, Miss, 89, 260.
Mejonelle, Mr., 306.
Melun, Vicomte de, 4, 8, 15, 16, 18, 20.
Metz, 22;
surrendered, 176, 188.
Meuse, river, 37;
bridge over, 84.
Mézières, village, burnt, 139.
Moltke, General, 147.
Monod, M. Chaplain, 94.
Mont Valérien, 140.
Mouzon, village, 38.
N.
Napoléon III., 33, 38, 83.
Neuville, 236;
fighting at, 243, 251.
Nicholl, Dr., 47, 115.
Nihil, T., Fenian exile, 131.
Nussbaum, Prof., 162, 340.
O.
O'Hanlon, Mme., 178.
Olivet, 350.
Orleans: march to, 154;
entering, 158;
in Quai du Châtelet, 160, _seq._;
at railway, 162-215;
Place Martroi, 168;
state of siege, 172;
shop windows, 172;
Bavarians evacuate, 190;
hospital invaded, 203;
ambulance returns, 207;
French enter, 210;
French Marines arrive, 228;
Ste. Euverte, 252;
French retreat upon, 254;
German assault, 263;
street fighting, 269;
surrendered, 270;
Red Prince enters, 274;
chronic hunger, 277;
prisoners in cathedral, 279;
Christmas Day at, 292;
fined 600,000 francs, 311;
evacuated by Germans, 349.
Ostend, 4, 333.
P.
Paladine, General de, 197, _seq._
Paris, 11-25;
siege of, 317.
Parker, Dr., 95, 107, 115, 193, 202, 270, 312, 343, 347.
Patay, battle, 251-260.
Pauline, Mère, 307, 339.
Peace, signed, 341.
Pearson, Miss, 89, 260, 347.
Peasants, 134.
Peyen, Louis, 99, 101.
Poniatowsky, Princess, 26.
Pontoon bridge over Meuse, 84;
over Loire, 277;
burnt, 266.
Pratt, Dr., 95, 115, 120, 137, 141, 151, 158, 161, 184, 226, 287,
311, 343.
Prince Frederick Charles, 276.
Prince of Hohenzollern, 141.
Prince Pless, 141-3, 337.
Prisoners at Orleans, 279.
Property, rights of, in war, 137.
Proust, M. and Mme., 274, 346-350, _seq._
Prussians, 35, 41, 123, 140, 276, 349.
R.
Raucourt, village, 35.
Reilly, Colonel, 232.
Renardier, Château de, 196, 207, 354.
Rouen, 123.
Rüdiger, 308.
Russell, Dr., of the Times, 45.
Ryan, Arthur (now Canon), 352;
diary, 353, _seq._
Ryan, Dr. C. E., leaves Dublin, 3;
at Paris, 10-30;
joins Anglo-Americans, 27;
arrives at Sedan, 31;
first sight of Germans, 35;
during 1st Sept., 1870, 43-59;
goes over battlefield, 61, _seq._;
at Isle d'Iges, 75;
visits Bazeilles, 86;
work in Caserne, 102;
rides to Bouillon, 112;
leaves Sedan, 116;
goes to Brussels, 118;
to Rouen, 123;
in Seine Valley, 125;
captured by Francs-Tireurs, 126;
to Mantes, 134;
sees fighting from Marly, 140;
at Versailles, 141-150;
marches to Orleans by Étampes, 153-160;
enters to sound of cannon, 157;
remarkable cases, 179;
at battle of Chevilly, 195;
visits that field, 352, _seq._;
in French camp, 199;
back to Orléans, 207;
sees French enter, 213;
at Neuville, 242;
sees battle of Patay, 259;
and French retreat across Loire, 264;
and burning of bridge, 266;
during assault on Orleans, 271;
sees entry of Red Prince, 274;
at Ste. Euverte, 252-310;
night duties, 292, _seq._;
leaves Orleans on furlough, 312;
journeys home by Lagny, Strasburg, etc., 315-332;
recalled, 333;
loses papers in Seine Valley, 335;
at Versailles, 336;
in Orleans again, 339;
falls ill of typhoid fever, 345;
recovers and leaves Orleans, 351.
S.
Sailors, French, 46, 228, 261;
German, 288.
Schrenk, Captain, 177.
Schroeder, Henry, 274, 285, 307, 343.
Sedan, arrival at, 31;
no surgeons or medical appliances, 38;
defences, 39;
battle, 43-53, _seq._;
number of wounded, 53;
field after the battle, 62-65;
operations in hospital, 70, _seq._, 93;
inhabitants shut up, 85;
captured guns in Park, 101;
ambulance leaves, 116.
Seine Valley, 124, 336.
Sentinels, French, 207;
German, 230.
Sheridan, General, 142.
Sherwell, Dr., 89, 208, 311.
Sims, Dr. Marion, 27, 28, 31, 70, 73, 94.
Sims, Harry, 27.
Soissons, 30.
Soldiers' burials, 62.
Southern exiles, 142.
St. Aignan, Church, 350.
St. Aubin, Louis, 45, 96, _seq._, 116.
St. Cloud, burnt, 146.
St. Germain, 139;
forest of, 336.
St. Pierre, village, 124.
Ste. Euverte, 252, 273, 276, 291, 306, 310.
Steel, General, 10.
Strasburg, 328-330.
T.
Tann, Von der, his proclamation 174.
Tilghman, Dr., 27, 36, 47, 184, 200, 209, 282.
Torcy, gate of Sedan, 32.
Trochu, General, 251.
Turcos, 51, 212, 240.
U.
Uniforms, German, 169.
Urbonouski, Mme., 145.
V.
Vercourt, M. de, 4, 330.
Verdière, M. le, 20.
Versailles, 145;
the Château a hospital, 147, 287, 337.
W.
Walsh, Dr., 2.
Warren, Dr., 89, 105, 193, 202, 253, 269, 342, 345, 347.
Webb, Dr., 70.
Weissenburg, battle of, 1, 50.
William I., king and emperor, 147, 323.
Wimpffen, General de, 34, 48.
Wörth, 1, 50.
Wounded, number at Sedan, 53;
in hospital, 70-93.
Wyman, Dr., 115.
Z.
Zouaves, 241.
Zouave, Well of the, 90.
* * * * *
Transcriber's note:
Obvious errors of punctuation and diacritical markings were
corrected, although "Orleans" appeared frequently without the
accent aigu and was not modified.
Hyphen removed: "bomb[-]shells" (p. 317), "towns[-]people" (p. 152).
The following words appear both with and without hyphens and have not
been changed: "dead-house", "side-arms", "station-master's".
P. 217: "Coulmier" changed to "Coulmiers".
P. 229: "univeral" changed to "universal" (universal scramble of excited
Frenchmen).
P. 248: "befel" changed to "befell" (befell the French arms).
Index:
Many page numbers seem to be wrong but have been left as printed.
Entry "Madelieie" changed to "Madeleine".
Entry "Nihill" changed to "Nihil".
Entries moved to their correct alphabetical positions:
"Frénois, village"
"Hayden, Frank"
"Loire, Army of the"