cannonade, which had been going on for several hours, had now become more
violent. Several shells had fallen on or near the Caserne de la Mission
during the morning. Now others were falling near the railway-station.
I went my way, however, turned to the right on quitting the Rue du
Gué-de-Maulny, reached some palings, and got on to the railway-line.
Skirting it, I turned to the left, going back towards the station.
I passed one or two trains, which were waiting. But they were composed of
trucks and closed vans. I might perhaps have climbed on to one of the
former, but it was a bitterly cold day; and as for the latter, of course
I could not hope to enter one of them. So I kept on towards the station,
and presently, without let or hindrance, I reached one of the platforms.
Le Mans being an important junction, its station was very large, in some
respects quite monumental. The principal part was roofed with glass and
suggested Charing Cross. I do not remember exactly the number of lines of
metals running through it, but I think there must have been four or five.
There were two trains waiting there, one of them, which was largely
composed of passenger carriages, being crammed with soldiers. I tried to
get into one carriage, but was fiercely repulsed. So, going to the rear of
this train, I crossed to another platform, where the second train was.
This was made up of passenger coaches and vans. I scrambled into one of
the latter, which was open. There were a number of packing-cases inside
it, but there was at least standing room for several persons. Two railway
men and two or three soldiers were already there. One of the former helped
me to get in. I had, be it said, a semi-military appearance, for my grey
frieze coat was frogged, and besides, what was more important, I wore the
red-cross armlet given me at the time when I followed Gougeard's column.
Almost immediately afterwards the train full of soldiers got away. The
cannonade was now very loud, and the glass roof above us constantly
vibrated. Some minutes elapsed whilst we exchanged impressions. Then, all
at once, a railway official--it may have been M. Piquet himself--rushed
along the platform in the direction of the engine, shouting as he went:
"Dépêchez! Dépêchez! Sauvez-vous!" At the same moment a stray artilleryman
was seen hastening towards us; but suddenly there came a terrific crash of
glass, a shell burst through the roof and exploded, and the unlucky
artilleryman fell on the platform, evidently severely wounded. We were
already in motion, however, and the line being dear, we got fairly swiftly
across the viaduct spanning the Sarthe. This placed us beyond the reach of
the enemy, and we then slowed down.
One or two more trains were got away after ours, the last one, I believe,
being vainly assailed by some Uhlans before it had crossed the viaduct.
The latter ought then to have been blown up, but an attempt to do so
proved ineffectual. We went on very slowly on account of the many trains
in front of us. Every now and again, too, there came a wearisome stop. It
was bitterly cold, and it was in vain that we beat the tattoo with our
feet in the hope of thereby warming them. The men with me were also
desperately hungry, and complained of it so bitterly and so frequently,
that, at last, I could not refrain from producing a little bread and meat
which I had secured at Le Mans and sharing it with them. But it merely
meant a bite for each of us. However, on stopping at last at Conlie
station--some sixteen or seventeen miles from Le Mans--we all hastily
scrambled out of the train, rushed into a little inn, and almost fought
like wild beasts for scraps of food. Then on we went once more, still very
slowly, still stopping again and again, sometimes for an hour at a
stretch, until, half numbed by the cold, weary of stamping our feet, and
still ravenous, we reached the little town of Sillé-le-Guillaume, which is
not more than eight or nine miles from Conlie.
At Sillé I secured a tiny garret-like room at the crowded Hôtel de la
Croix d'Or, a third-rate hostelry, which was already invaded by officers,
soldiers, railway officials, and others who had quitted Le Mans before I
had managed to do so. My comparatively youthful appearance won for me,
however, the good favour of the buxom landlady, who, after repeatedly
declaring to other applicants that she had not a corner left in the whole
house, took me aside and said in an undertone: "listen, I will put you in
a little _cabinet_ upstairs. I will show you the way by and by. But don't
tell anybody." And she added compassionately: "_Mon pauvre garçon_, you
look frozen. Go into the kitchen. There is a good fire there, and you will
get something to eat."
Truth to tell, the larder was nearly empty, but I secured a little cheese
and some bread and some very indifferent wine, which, however, in my then
condition, seemed to me to be nectar. I helped myself to a bowl, I
remember, and poured about a pint of wine into it, so as to soak my bread,
which was stale and hard. Toasting my feet at the fire whilst I regaled
myself with that improvised _soupe-au-vin_, I soon felt warm and
inspirited once more. Hardship sits on one but lightly when one is only
seventeen years of age and stirred by early ambition. All the world then
lay before me, like mine oyster, to be opened by either sword or pen.
At a later hour, by the light of a solitary guttering candle, in the
little _cabinet_ upstairs, I wrote, as best I could, an account of the
recent fighting and the loss of Le Mans; and early on the following
morning I prevailed on a railway-man who was going to Rennes to post my
packet there, in order that it might be forwarded to England _viâ_ Saint
Malo. The article appeared in the _Pall Mall Gazette_, filling a page of
that journal, and whatever its imperfections may have been, it was
undoubtedly the first detailed account of the battle of Le Mans, from the
French side, to appear in the English Press. It so happened, indeed, that
the other correspondents with the French forces, including my cousin
Montague Vizetelly of _The Daily News_, lingered at Le Mans until it was
too late for them to leave the town, the Germans having effected their
entry.
German detachments soon started in pursuit of the retreating Army of the
Loire. Chanzy, as previously mentioned, modified his plans, in accordance
with Gambetta's views, on the evening of January 12. The new orders were
that the 16th Army Corps should retreat on Laval by way of Chassillé and
Saint Jean-sur-Erve, that the 17th, after passing Conlie, should come
down to Sainte Suzanne, and that the 21st should proceed from Conlie to
Sillé-le-Guillaume. There were several rear-guard engagements during, the
retreat. Already on the 13th, before the 21st Corps could modify its
original line of march, it had to fight at Ballon, north of Le Mans.
On the next day one of its detachments, composed of 9000 Mobilisés of the
Mayenne, was attacked at Beaumont-sur-Sarthe, and hastily fell back,
leaving 1400 men in the hands of the Germans, who on their side lost only
_nine_! Those French soldiers who retreated by way of Conlie partially
pillaged the abandoned stores there. A battalion of Mobiles, on passing
that way, provided themselves with new trousers, coats, boots, and
blankets, besides carrying off a quantity of bread, salt-pork, sugar, and
other provisions. These things were at least saved from the Germans, who
on reaching the abandoned camp found there a quantity of military
_matériel_, five million cartridges, 1500 cases of biscuits and extract of
meat, 180 barrels of salt-pork, a score of sacks of rice, and 140
puncheons of brandy.
On January 14 the 21st Corps under Jaurès reached Sillé-le-Guillaume, and
was there attacked by the advanced guard of the 13th German Corps under
the Grand Duke of Mecklenburg. The French offered a good resistance,
however, and the Germans retreated on Conlie. I myself had managed to
leave Sillé the previous afternoon, but such was the block on the line
that our train could get no farther than Voutré, a village of about a
thousand souls. Railway travelling seeming an impossibility, I prevailed
on a farmer to give me a lift as far as Sainte Suzanne, whence I hoped to
cut across country in the direction of Laval. Sainte Suzanne is an ancient
and picturesque little town which in those days still had a rampart and
the ruins of an early feudal castle. I supped and slept at an inn there,
and was told in the morning (January 14) that it would be best for me to
go southward towards Saint Jean-sur-Erve, where I should strike the direct
highway to Laval, and might also be able to procure a conveyance. I did
not then know the exact retreating orders. I hoped to get out of the way
of all the troops and waggons encumbering the roads, but in this I was
doomed to disappointment, for at Saint Jean I fell in with them again.
That day a part of the rear-guard of the 16th Corps (Jauréguiberry)--that
is, a detachment of 1100 men with a squadron of cavalry under General
Le Bouëdec--had been driven out of Chassillé by the German cavalry under
General von Schmidt. This had accelerated the French retreat, which
continued in the greatest confusion, all the men hastening precipitately
towards Saint Jean, where, after getting the bulk of his force on to the
heights across the river Erve, which here intersects the highway,
Jauréguiberry resolved on attempting to check the enemy's pursuit. Though
the condition of most of the men was lamentable, vigorous defensive
preparations were made on the night of the 14th and the early morning of
the following day. On the low ground, near the village and the river,
trees were felled and roads were barricaded; while on the slopes batteries
were disposed behind hedges, in which embrasures were cut. The enemy's
force was, I believe, chiefly composed of cavalry and artillery. The
latter was already firing at us when Jauréguiberry rode along our lines.
A shell exploded near him, and some splinters of the projectile struck
his horse in the neck, inflicting a ghastly, gaping wound. The poor beast,
however, did not fall immediately, but galloped on frantically for more
than a score of yards, then suddenly reared, and after doing so came down,
all of a heap, upon the snow. However, the Admiral, who was a good
horseman, speedily disengaged himself, and turned to secure another
mount--when he perceived that Colonel Beraud, his chief of staff, who had
been riding behind him, had been wounded by the same shell, and had fallen
from his horse. I saw the Colonel being carried to a neighbouring
farmhouse, and was afterwards told that he had died there.
The engagement had no very decisive result, but Schmidt fell back to the
road connecting Sainte Suzanne with Thorigné-en-Charnie, whilst we
withdrew towards Soulge-le-Bruant, about halfway between Saint Jean and
Laval. During the fight, however, whilst the artillery duel was in
progress, quite half of Jauréguiberry's men had taken themselves off
without waiting for orders. I believe that on the night of January 15 he
could not have mustered more than 7000 men for action. Yet only two days
previously he had had nearly three times that number with him.
Nevertheless, much might be pleaded for the men. The weather was still
bitterly cold, snow lay everywhere, little or no food could be obtained,
the commissariat refraining from requisitioning cattle at the farms, for
all through the departments for Mayenne and Ille-et-Vilaine cattle-plague
was raging. Hungry, emaciated, faint, coughing incessantly, at times
affected with small-pox, the men limped or trudged on despairingly. Their
boots were often in a most wretched condition; some wore sabots, others,
as I said once before, merely had rags around their poor frost-bitten
feet. And the roads were obstructed by guns, vans, waggons, vehicles of
all kinds. Sometimes an axle had broken, sometimes a horse had fallen dead
on the snow, in any case one or another conveyance had come to a
standstill, and prevented others from pursuing their route. I recollect
seeing hungry men cutting steaks from the flanks of the dead beasts,
sometimes devouring the horseflesh raw, at others taking it to some
cottage, where the avaricious peasants, who refused to part with a scrap
of food, at least had to let these cold and hungry men warm themselves at
a fire, and toast their horseflesh before it. At one halt three soldiers
knocked a peasant down because he vowed that he could not even give them a
pinch of salt. That done, they rifled his cupboards and ate all they could
find.
Experience had taught me a lesson. I had filled my pockets with ham,
bread, hard-boiled eggs, and other things, before leaving Sainte Suzanne.
I had also obtained a meal at Saint Jean, and secured some brandy there,
and I ate and drank sparingly and surreptitiously whilst I went on,
overtaking one after another batch of weary soldiers. However, the
distance between Saint Jean and Laval is not very great. Judging by the
map, it is a matter of some twenty-five miles at the utmost. Moreover, I
walked only half the distance. The troops moved so slowly that I reached
Soulge-le-Bruant long before them, and there induced a man to drive me to
Laval. I was there on the afternoon of January 16, and as from this point
trains were still running westward, I reached Saint Servan on the
following day. Thus I slipped through to my goal, thereby justifying the
nickname of L'Anguille--the Eel--which some of my young French friends had
bestowed on me.
A day or two previously my father had returned from England, and I found
him with my stepmother. He became very much interested in my story, and
talked of going to Laval himself. Further important developments might
soon occur, the Germans might push on to Chanzy's new base, and I felt
that I also ought to go back. The life I had been leading either makes or
mars a man physically. Personally, I believe that it did me a world of
good. At all events, it was settled that my father and myself should go to
Laval together. We started a couple of days later, and managed to travel
by rail as far as Rennes. But from that point to Laval the line was now
very badly blocked, and so we hired a closed vehicle, a ramshackle affair,
drawn by two scraggy Breton nags. The main roads, being still crowded with
troops, artillery, and baggage waggons, and other impedimenta, were often
impassable, and so we proceeded by devious ways, amidst which our driver
lost himself, in such wise that at night we had to seek a shelter at the
famous Chateau des Bochers, immortalized by Mme. de Sévigné, and replete
with precious portraits of herself, her own and her husband's families, in
addition to a quantity of beautiful furniture dating from her time.
It took us, I think, altogether two days to reach Laval, where, after
securing accommodation at one of the hotels, we went out in search of
news, having heard none since we had started on our journey. Perceiving a
newspaper shop, we entered it, and my father insisted on purchasing a copy
of virtually every journal which was on sale there. Unfortunately for us,
this seemed highly suspicious to a local National Guard who was in the
shop, and when we left it he followed us. My father had just then begun to
speak to me in English, and at the sound of a foreign tongue the man's
suspicions increased. So he drew nearer, and demanded to know who and what
we were. I replied that we were English and that I had previously been
authorised to accompany the army as a newspaper correspondent. My
statements, however, were received with incredulity by this suspicious
individual, who, after one or two further inquiries, requested us to
accompany him to a guard-house standing near one of the bridges thrown
over the river Mayenne.
Thither we went, followed by several people who had assembled during our
parley, and found ourselves before a Lieutenant of Gendarmes, on the
charge of being German spies. Our denouncer was most positive on the
point. Had we not bought at least a dozen newspapers? Why a dozen, when
sensible people would have been satisfied with one? Such extensive
purchases must surely have been prompted by some sinister motive. Besides,
he had heard us conversing in German. English, indeed! No, no! He was
certain that we had spoken German, and was equally certain of our guilt.
The Lieutenant looked grave, and my explanations did not quite satisfy
him. The predicament was the more awkward as, although my father was
provided with a British passport, I had somehow left my precious military
permit at Saint Servan, Further, my father carried with him some documents
which might have been deemed incriminating, They were, indeed,
safe-conducts signed by various German generals, which had been used by us
conjointly while passing, through the German lines after making our way
out of Paris in November. As for my correspondent's permit, signed some
time previously by the Chief of the Staff, I had been unable to find it
when examining my papers on our way to Laval, but had consoled myself with
the thought that I might get it replaced at headquarters. [The red-cross
armlet which had repeatedly proved so useful to me, enabling me to come
and go without much interference, was at our hotel, in a bag we had
brought with us.] Could I have shown it to the Lieutenant, he might have
ordered our release. As it happened, he decided to send us to the Provost
Marshal. I was not greatly put out by that command, for I remembered the
officer in question, or thought I did, and felt convinced that everything
would speedily be set right.
We started off in the charge of a brigadier-otherwise a corporal--of
Gendarmes, and four men, our denouncer following closely at our heels. My
father at once pointed out to me that the brigadier and one of the men
wore silver medals bearing the effigy of Queen Victoria, so I said to the
former, "You were in the Crimea. You are wearing our Queen's medal."
"Yes," he replied, "I gained that at the Alma."
"And your comrade?"
"He won his at the Tohernaya."
"I dare say you would have been glad if French and English had fought side
by side in this war?" I added. "Perhaps they ought to have done so."
"_Parbleu!_ The English certainly owed us a _bon coup de main_, instead of
which they have only sold us broken-down horses and bad boots."
I agreed that there had been some instances of the kind. A few more words
passed, and I believe that the brigadier became convinced of our English
nationality. But as his orders were to take us to the Provost's, thither
we were bound to go. An ever increasing crowd followed. Shopkeepers and
other folk came to their doors and windows, and the words, "They are
spies, German spies!" rang out repeatedly, exciting the crowd and
rendering it more and more hostile. For a while we followed a quay with
granite parapets, below which flowed the Mayenne, laden with drifting ice.
All at once, however, I perceived on our left a large square, where about
a hundred men of the Laval National Guard were being exercised. They saw
us appear with our escort, they saw the crowd which followed us, and they
heard the cries, "Spies! German spies!" Forthwith, with that disregard for
discipline which among the French was so characteristic of the period,
they broke their ranks and ran towards us.
We were only able to take a few more steps. In vain did the Gendarmes try
to force a way through the excited mob. We were surrounded by angry,
scowling, vociferating men. Imprecations burst forth, fists were clenched,
arms were waved, rifles were shaken, the unruly National Guards being the
most eager of all to denounce and threaten us. "Down with the spies!" they
shouted. "Down with the German pigs! Give them to us! Let us shoot them!"
A very threatening rush ensued, and I was almost carried off my feet. But
in another moment I found myself against the parapet of the quay, with my
father beside me, and the icy river in the rear. In front of us stood the
brigadier and his four men guarding us from the angry citizens of Laval.
"Hand them over to us! We will settle their affair," shouted an excited
National Guard. "You know that they are spies, brigadier."
"I know that I have my orders," growled the veteran. "I am taking them to
the Provost. It is for him to decide."
"That is too much ceremony," was the retort. "Let us shoot them!"
"But they are not worth a cartridge!" shouted another man. "Throw them
into the river!"
That ominous cry was taken up. "Yes, yes, to the river with them!" Then
came another rush, one so extremely violent that our case seemed
desperate.
But the brigadier and his men had managed to fix bayonets during the brief
parley, and on the mob being confronted by five blades of glistening
steel, its savage eagerness abated. Moreover, the old brigadier behaved
magnificently. "Keep back!" cried he. "I have my orders. You will have to
settle me before you take my prisoners!"
Just then I caught the eye of one of the National Guards, who was shaking
his fist at us, and I said to him, "You are quite mistaken. We are not
Germans, but English!"
"Yes, yes, _Anglais, Anglais_!" my father exclaimed.
While some of the men in the crowd were more or less incredulously
repeating that statement, a black-bearded individual--whom I can, at this
very moment, still picture with my mind's eye, so vividly did the affair
impress me--climbed on to the parapet near us, and called out, "You say
you are English? Do you know London? Do you know Regent Street? Do you
know the Soho?"
"Yes, yes!" we answered quickly.
"You know the Lei-ces-terre Square? What name is the music-hall there?"
"Why, the Alhambra!" The "Empire," let me add, did not exist in those
days.
The man seemed satisfied. "I think they are English," he said to his
friends. But somebody else exclaimed, "I don't believe it. One of them is
wearing a German hat."
Now, it happened that my father had returned from London wearing a felt
hat of a shape which was then somewhat fashionable there, and which,
curiously enough, was called the "Crown Prince," after the heir to the
Prussian throne--that is, our Princess Royal's husband, subsequently the
Emperor Frederick. The National Guard, who spoke a little English, wished
to inspect this incriminating hat, so my father took it off, and one of
the Gendarmes, having placed it on his bayonet, passed it to the man on
the parapet. When the latter had read "Christy, London," on the lining, he
once more testified in our favour.
But other fellows also wished to examine the suspicious headgear, and it
passed from hand to hand before it was returned to my father in a more or
less damaged condition, Even then a good many men were not satisfied
respecting our nationality, but during that incident of the hat--a
laughable one to me nowadays, though everything looked very ugly when it
occurred--there had been time for the men's angry passions to cool, to a
considerable extent at all events; and after that serio-comical interlude,
they were much less eager to inflict on us the summary law of Lynch. A
further parley ensued, and eventually the Gendarmes, who still stood with
bayonets crossed in front of us, were authorized, by decision of the
Sovereign People, to take us to the Provost's. Thither we went, then,
amidst a perfect procession of watchful guards and civilians.
Directly we appeared before the Provost, I realized that our troubles were
not yet over. Some changes had taken place during the retreat, and either
the officer whom I remembered having seen at Le Mans (that is, Colonel
Mora) had been replaced by another, or else the one before whom we now
appeared was not the Provost-General, but only the Provost of the 18th
Corps. At all events, he was a complete stranger to me. After hearing,
first, the statements of the brigadier and the National Guard who had
denounced us, and who had kept close to us all the time, and, secondly,
the explanations supplied by my father and myself, he said to me, "If you
had a staff permit to follow the army, somebody at headquarters must be
able to identify you."