DEAR MAMA,--You will be surprised to see that I am in Paris; but you will
understand why when I tell you that I received a letter from Mrs. Moulton
to this effect: "If you wish to go to Petit Val to look after the things
you left there when you went to Dinard last August, you had better come to
Paris without delay, as the trains are running regularly now." The trains
may have been running regularly (I left Dinard the next day), but they
were certainly not running on time, for we missed all connections, and
only arrived at Rennes after seven o'clock, too late to catch the evening
train for Paris. The fine omnibus at the station made me imagine that it
belonged to an equally fine hotel, but the hotel proved to be anything but
fine. It was dreadfully dirty and shabby, and filled to overflowing. It
was with the greatest difficulty I was able to secure a room for myself.
My grumbling maid had to content herself with the sofa. The _salle à
manger_ was thronged with officers clanking their swords on the brick
floor and all talking at once. I passed a sleepless night, being kept
awake by the loud and incessant conversations in the corridor and the
continual tramping of soldiers under my window. We started for Paris the
next morning at eight o'clock. The train was crowded with people who, like
myself, were eager to return home after so many months of anxious waiting.
In all the stations through which we passed one saw nothing but soldiers,
their ragged uniforms hanging on their emaciated forms; their feet--which
had been frozen in January (poor things!)--were still bandaged, and hardly
any of them possessed shoes. They did look, indeed, the picture of abject
dejection and misery.
At Le Mans, the place where we stopped for luncheon, the soldiers were
lying about on the brick pavement of the station, too tired and worn out
to move, and presenting the saddest sight it has ever fallen to my lot to
witness. They were waiting for the cattle vans to take them away. In these
they would be obliged to stand until they reached Paris and its hospitals.
Every one of the travelers was anxious to alleviate their misery in some
way, by offering them cigars, food, and money. My heart bled for the poor
creatures, and I gave them all I had in my purse, and my luncheon also.
They represented the debris of Faidherbe's army, which of all the troops
had seen the most desperate fighting during the war. All the trains we
passed were packed tight with soldiers, herded together like cattle,
patient misery painted on their pale, tired faces.
Hungry and penniless I arrived at last in Paris, where I was delighted to
see a healthy, normal-looking person in the shape of my brother-in-law,
Henry, who met me at the station. He had plenty to tell me of his
experiences since last September. He had been living at Petit Val
throughout the whole campaign, and was still there looking after our
interests, _faisant la navette_ between Petit Val, Paris, and Versailles
at his will. He had free passes for all these places. On my arrival at the
Rue de Courcelles I found the family well, Mrs. Moulton knitting as usual,
Mademoiselle Wissembourg napping, and Mr. Moulton reading the _Journal des
Débats_ out loud in his peculiar French.
I thought of the "Brook," by Tennyson: "Men may come and men may go, but I
go on for ever." The family had not eaten cats and dogs during the siege
as, according to the newspapers, other people had done.
Mr. Moulton having been in Paris at the time of the Revolution of 1848,
and knowing about revolutions, had had the forethought to lay in a stock
of provisions, such as ham, biscuit, rice, etc., and all sorts of canned
things, which he deemed would be sufficient for all their requirements.
They had even given dinner-parties limited to a very choice few, who
sometimes brought welcome additions in the shape of other canned
delicacies.
When the family moved from Petit Val to Paris last September, the French
Government had given them permission to keep one or two cows. They also
brought a calf, a sheep, and some chickens with them. The cows and the
sheep shared the stables with the horses, while the chickens were let
loose in the conservatory, and were expected to lay enough eggs to pay for
their board. The gardener had cleverly converted the conservatory into a
sort of kitchen garden, and had planted some useful vegetables, such as
radishes, carrots, salad, etc., so you see the family took good care that
it should have enough to eat, and mice and rats only appeared on the table
after the repasts.