The ten days succeeding the declaration of war were days of
excitement, and anticipation. The troops quartered at Dijon moved
forward at once; and scarcely an hour passed but long trains,
filled with soldiers from Lyons and the South, were on their way up
towards Metz. The people of Dijon spent half their time in and
around the station. The platform was kept clear; but bands of
ladies relieved each other every few hours, and handed soup, bread,
fruit, and wine to the soldiers as they passed through. Each
crowded train was greeted, as it approached the station, with
cheers and waving of handkerchiefs; to which the troops as heartily
responded. Most of the trains were decorated with boughs, and
presented a gay appearance as, filled with the little line men, the
sunburned Zouaves, swarthy Turcos, gay hussars, or sober
artillerymen, they wound slowly into the town.
Some of the trains were less gay, but were not less significant of
war. Long lines of wagons, filled with cannon; open trucks with the
deadly shell--arranged side by side, point upwards, and looking
more like eggs in a basket than deadly missiles--came and went.
There, too, were long trains of pontoons for forming bridges while,
every half hour, long lines of wagons filled with biscuits, barrels
of wine, sacks of coffee, and cases of stores of all sorts and
kinds passed through.
The enthusiasm of Dijon, at the sight of this moving panorama of
war, rose to fever heat. The sound of the Marseillaise resounded
from morning to night. Victory was looked upon as certain, and the
only subject of debate was as to the terms which victorious France
would impose upon conquered Prussia. The only impatience felt was
for the news of the first victory.
Captain Barclay sent down several casks of wine, for the use of the
passing troops; and his wife went down, each day, to assist at the
distribution. In the evening she and Milly scraped old rags, to
make lint for the wounded. The Lycee was still closed--as it was
found impossible to get the boys to attend to their studies--and
Ralph and Percy spent their time in watching the trains go past,
and in shouting themselves hoarse.
Captain Barclay did not share in the general enthusiasm and, each
morning at breakfast, he looked more and more grave as, upon
opening the papers, he found there was still no news of the
commencement of hostilities.
"What difference does it make, papa?" Ralph asked, one day; "we are
sending fresh troops up, every hour, and I do not see how a few
days' delay can be any disadvantage to us."
"It makes all the difference, Ralph, all the difference in the
world. We had a considerably larger standing army than the
Prussians, and had the advantage that the main body of our troops
were very much nearer to the frontier than those of the Prussians.
If things had been ready, we ought to have marched two hundred
thousand men into Germany, three or four days--at latest--after the
declaration of war. The Germans could have had no force capable of
resisting them. We should have had the prestige of a first
success--no slight thing with a French army--and we should also
have had the great and solid advantage of fighting in an enemy's
country, instead of upon our own.
"The German reserves are far greater than our own. We know how
perfect their organization is, and every hour of delay is an
immense advantage to them. It is quite likely now that, instead of
the French invading Germany, it will be the Prussians who will
invade France."
The boys were but little affected by their father's forebodings. It
was scarcely possible to suppose that everyone could be wrong;
still more impossible to believe that those great hosts which they
saw passing, so full of high hope and eager courage, could be
beaten. They were, however, very glad to sit round the table of an
evening, while Captain Barclay opened a great map on the table,
explained the strength of the various positions, and the
probability of this or that line of attack being selected by one or
the other army.
Day after day went by until, on the 2nd of August, the news came at
last. The first blow had been struck, the first blood shed--the
French had taken Saarbruck.
"It is too late," Captain Barclay said, as Ralph and Percy rushed
in, to say that the news was posted up at the Prefecture. "It is
too late, boys. The English papers, of this morning, have brought
us the news that the Germans are massing at least seven or eight
hundred thousand men, along the line from Saar Louis to Spiers. It
is evident that they fell back from Saarbruck without any serious
resistance. In another two or three days they will be in readiness
and, as they must far outnumber our men, you will see that the
advantage at Saarbruck will not be followed up, and that the
Prussians will assume the offensive."
"Then what do you really think will be the result, papa?"
"I think, Ralph, that we shall be forced to do what--not having, at
once, taken the offensive--we ought to have done from the first. We
shall have to fall back, to abandon the line of frontier--which is
altogether indefensible--and to hold the line of the Moselle, and
the spurs of the Vosges; an immensely strong position, and which we
ought to be able to hold against all the efforts of Prussia."
The exultation of Dijon was but short lived for, on the 5th, the
boys came up in the afternoon, from the town, with very serious
faces.
"What is the matter, Ralph?"
"There is a rumor in the town, papa, that the Swiss papers have
published an account of the capture of Weissenburg, by the
Prussians. A great many French are said to be prisoners. Do you
think it can be true?"
"It is probable, at any rate, Ralph. The Swiss papers would, of
course, get the news an hour or so after it is known in Germany. We
must not begin by believing all that the telegram says, because
both sides are certain to claim victories; still, the absolute
capture of a town is a matter upon which there can be no dispute,
and is therefore likely enough to be true. We know the Prussians
were massed all along that line and, as I expected, they have taken
the offensive. Their chances of success in so doing were evident;
as neither party know where the others are preparing to strike a
blow, and each can therefore concentrate, and strike with an
overwhelming force at any given point.
"Now that the Germans have made the first move, and shown their
intention, both parties will concentrate in that direction. You
see, from Weissenburg the Germans can either march south upon
Strasburg, or southwest upon Metz or Nancy; but to reach this
latter place they will have to cross the spurs of the Vosges. The
French will, of course, try to bar their further advance. We may
expect a great battle, in a day or two."
The news came but too soon for--two days later--Dijon, as well as
all France, stood aghast at the news of the utter rout of
MacMahon's division, after the desperately contested battle of
Woerth; and the not less decided, though less disastrous, defeats
of the French left, at Forbach, by the troops of Steinmetz. Some
little consolation was, however, gleaned by the fact that the
French had been beaten in detail; and had shown the utmost
gallantry, against greatly superior numbers. They would now, no
doubt, fall back behind the Moselle; and hold that line, and the
position of the Vosges, until fresh troops could come up, and a
great battle be fought upon more even terms.
Fresh levies were everywhere ordered, and a deep and general
feeling of rage prevailed. No one thought of blaming the troops--it
was evident that they had done their best; the fault lay with the
generals, and with the organization.
Captain Barclay pointed out, to the boys, that the officers and men
were somewhat to blame, also; for the utter confusion which
prevailed among MacMahon's troops, in their retreat, showed that
the whole regimental system was faulty; and that there could have
been no real discipline, whatever, or the shattered regiments would
have rallied, a few miles from the field of battle.
In Dijon, the change during the last fortnight was marvelous The
war spirit was higher than ever. Cost what it might, this disgrace
must be wiped out. The Mobiles were hard at work, drilling. The
soldiers who had long left the army were starting, by every train,
to the depots. The sound of the Marseillaise rang through the
streets, night and day. The chorus, "To arms," gained a fresh
meaning and power and, in spite of these first defeats, none
dreamed of final defeat.
Every day, however, the news became worse. Strasburg was cut off;
and the Prussians marched unopposed across the spurs of the Vosges,
where a mere handful of men might have checked them.
"Boys, there are terrible days in store, for France," Captain
Barclay said, when the news came that the enemy had entered Nancy.
"The line of the Moselle is turned. Bazaine will be cut off, unless
he hurries his retreat; and then nothing can stop the Prussians
from marching to Paris."
The boys sat speechless at this terrible assurance.
"Surely it cannot be as bad as that," Mrs. Barclay said. "Frenchmen
cannot have lost all their old qualities; and all France will rise,
like one man, to march to the defense of Paris."
"Raw levies will be of no use, whatever, against the Prussian
troops, flushed with victory," Captain Barclay said; "even if they
were armed--and where are the arms, for a levy en masse, to come
from? If Bazaine be beaten, the only hope of France is for all the
troops who remain to fall back under the guns of the forts of
Paris; and for France to enter upon an immense guerrilla war. For
hosts of skirmishers to hang upon their flanks and rear; cutting
every road, destroying every bridge, checking the movements of
every detached body, and so actually starving them out, on the
ground which they occupy.
"This, however, will demand an immense amount of pluck, of
endurance, of perseverance, of sacrifice, and of patriotism. The
question is, does France possess these qualities?"
"Surely, Richard, you cannot doubt the patriotism of the French,"
Mrs. Barclay said, a little reproachfully.
"My dear Melanie," her husband said, "I am sorry to say that I very
greatly doubt the patriotism of the French. They are--more than any
people, more even than the English, whom they laugh at as a nation
of shopkeepers--a money-making race. The bourgeoise class, the
shopkeepers, the small proprietors, are selfish in the extreme.
They think only of their money, their business, and their comforts.
The lower class are perhaps better, but their first thoughts will
be how the war will affect themselves and, unless there is some
chance of the enemy approaching their homes, driving off their
cattle, and plundering their cottages, they will look on with a
very calm eye at the general ruin.
"I believe, remember, that those who will be called out will go
and, if affairs go as I fear that they will do, every man under
fifty years old in France will have to go out; but it is not enough
to go out. For a war like this, it will require desperate courage
and endurance, and an absolute disregard of life; to counterbalance
the disadvantages of want of discipline, want of arms, want of
artillery, and want of organization I may be wrong--I hope that I
am so--but time will show."
"And do you think that there is any chance of their coming down
here, as well as of going to Paris, papa?" Percy asked.
"That would depend upon the length of the resistance, Percy. If
France holds out, and refuses to grant any terms which the
Prussians might try to impose upon them, they may overrun half the
country and, as this town is directly upon their way for Lyons--the
second town of France--they are exceedingly likely to come this
way."
"Well, if they do, papa," Ralph said, with heightened color, "I
feel sure that every man who can carry a gun will go out, and that
every home will be defended."
"We shall see, Ralph," Captain Barclay said, "we shall see."
Another pause, and then came the news of that terrible three days'
fighting--on the 14th, 16th, and 18th--near Metz; when Bazaine, his
retreat towards Paris cut off, vainly tried to force his way
through the Prussian army and, failing, fell back into Metz. Even
now, when the position was well-nigh desperate--with the only great
army remaining shut up and surrounded; and with nothing save the
fragment of MacMahon's division, with a few other regiments,
collected in haste, and the new levies, encamped at Chalons,
between the victorious enemy and the capital--the people of France
were scarcely awake to the urgency of the position. The Government
concealed at least a portion of the truth, and the people were only
too ready to be deceived.
In Dijon, however, the facts were better known, and more
understood. The Swiss newspapers, containing the Prussian official
telegrams and accounts, arrived daily; and those who received them
speedily spread the news through the town. The consternation was
great, and general, but there was no sign of despair. Those of the
Mobiles who were armed and equipped were sent off, at once, to
Chalons. At every corner of the street were placards, calling out
the Mobiles and soldiers who had served their time; and, although
not yet called to arms, the national guard drilled in the Place
d'Armes, morning and evening.
"You will allow, Richard, that you were mistaken as to the
patriotism of the people," Mrs. Barclay said, one evening, to her
husband. "Everyone is rushing to arms."
"They are coming out better than I had expected, Melanie; but at
the same time, you will observe that they have no choice in the
matter. The Mobiles are called out, and have to go. All who can
raise the most frivolous pretext for exemption do so. There is a
perfect rush of young men to the Prefecture, to obtain places in
the clothing, medical, arming, and equipping departments; in any
sort of service, in fact, which will exempt its holder from taking
up arms.
"At the same time, there is a great deal of true, earnest
patriotism. Many married men, with families, have volunteered; and
those belonging to the categories called out do go, as you say,
cheerfully, if not willingly and, once enrolled, appear determined
to do their duty.
"France will need all the patriotism, and all the devotion of her
people to get through the present crisis. There is no saying how it
will end. I have no hope, whatever, that MacMahon's new army can
arrest the march of the enemy; and his true course is to fall back
upon Paris. Our chance, here, of remaining free from a visit of the
enemy depends entirely upon the length of time which Strasburg and
Metz hold out. Bazaine may be able to cut his way out but, at any
rate, he is likely to remain where he is, for some little time,
under the walls of Metz; for he occupies the attention of a
considerably larger force than that which he commands.
"The vital point, at present, is to cut the roads behind the
Germans. If it were not for this cork leg of mine, Melanie, I would
try and raise a small guerrilla corps, and set out on my own
account. I have lived here for seventeen years, now, and the French
fought by our side, in the Crimea. Could I do so, I should
certainly fight for France, now. It is clearly the duty of anyone
who can carry a musket to go out."
Just at this moment the door opened, and Ralph and Percy entered
hastily. They both looked excited, but serious.
"What is it, boys?"
"Papa," Ralph said, "there is a notice up, signed by your friend
Captain Tempe. He calls for a hundred volunteers, to join a corps
of franc tireurs--a sort of guerrillas, I believe--to go out to
harass the Germans, and cut their communication. Those who can are
to provide their own arms and equipments. A meeting is to be held,
tonight, for subscribing the money for those who cannot afford to
do so.
"We have come to ask you to let us join, papa. Louis and Philippe
have just gone to ask uncle's leave."
Captain Barclay listened in silence, with a very grave face. Their
mother sat down in a chair, with a white face.
"Oh, my boys, you are too young," she gasped out.
"We are stronger, mamma, than a great many of the men who have been
called out; and taller and stouter, in every way. We can walk
better than the greater portion of them. We are accustomed to
exercise and fatigue. We are far more fit to be soldiers than many
young men who have gone from here. You said yourself, mamma, that
everyone who could carry a gun ought to go out."
"But you are not French, boys," Mrs. Barclay said, piteously.
"We are half French, mamma. Not legally, but it has been home to
us, since we were born and, even if you had not been French, we
ought to fight for her."
Mrs. Barclay looked at her husband for assistance, but Captain
Barclay had leaned his face in his hands, and said nothing.
"Ah, Ralph; but Percy at least, he is only fifteen."
"I am nearly as big, nearly as strong as Ralph, mamma. Besides,
would it not be better to have two of us? If one is ill or--or
wounded--the other could look after him, you know.
"Mamma, dearest, we have talked it over, and we think we ought to
go. We are very strong for our ages; and it is strength, not years,
which matters. Mamma, you said a Frenchwoman should not grudge
those she loves to France; and that if France was invaded all, even
the women, should go out."
Mrs. Barclay was silent. She could not speak. She was so deadly
pale, and her face had such an expression of misery, that the boys
felt their resolution wavering.
Captain Barclay looked up.
"Boys," he said, very gravely, "I have one question to ask; which
you will answer me truly, upon your faith and honor Do you wish to
go merely--or principally--from a desire to see the excitement and
the adventure of a guerrilla war; or do you go out because you
desire earnestly to do your best, to defend the country in which
you were born, and lived? Are you prepared to suffer any hardship
and, if it is the will of God, to die for her?"
"We are, papa," both boys said.
And Ralph went on:
"When we first talked over the possibility of everyone being called
out--and of our going, too--we did look upon it as a case of fun
and excitement; but when the chance really came, we saw how serious
it was. We knew how much it would cost you, and dear mamma; and we
would not have asked you, had we not felt that we ought to go, even
if we knew we should be killed."
"In that case, boys," Captain Barclay said, solemnly, rising and
laying one hand on the shoulder of each of his sons, "in that case,
I say no more. You are a soldier's sons, and your example may do
good. It is your duty, and that of everyone, to fight for his
country. I give you my full consent to go. I should not have
advised it. At your age, there was no absolute duty. Still, if you
feel it so, I will not stand in your way.
"Go then, my boys, and may God watch over you, and keep you, and
send you safe home again."
So saying, he kissed them both on the forehead, and walked from the
room without saying another word.
Then the boys turned to their mother, who was crying silently and,
falling upon her neck, they kissed her and cried with her. It was
understood that her consent was given, with their father's.
Milly, coming in and hearing what was the matter, sat down in
sudden grief and astonishment on the nearest chair, and cried
bitterly. It was a sad half hour, and the boys were almost inclined
to regret that they had asked for leave to go. However, there was
no drawing back now and, when they left their mother, they went on
to tell their cousins that they were going.
They found Louis and Philippe in a state of great disappointment,
because their father had altogether refused to listen to their
entreaties. Upon hearing, however, that Ralph and Percy were going,
they gained fresh hope; for they said, if English boys could go and
fight for France, it was shameful that French boys should stay at
home, in idleness.
Captain Barclay, after giving permission to his sons to go as franc
tireurs, first went for a walk by himself, to think over the
consequences of his decision. He then went down into Dijon, and
called upon Captain Tempe. The commander of the proposed corps had
served for many years in the Zouaves, and was known to be an able
and energetic officer. He had left the service, five or six years
previously, upon his marriage. He lived a short distance, only,
from Captain Barclay; and a warm friendship had sprung up between
them.
Upon Captain Barclay telling him why he had come to see him,
Captain Tempe expressed his satisfaction at the decision of the
young Barclays.
"I have already the names of one or two lads little, if any, older
than your eldest boy," he said; "and although the other is
certainly very young yet, as he is very stout and strong for his
age, I have no doubt he will bear the fatigue as well as many of
the men."
"I wish I could go with you," Captain Barclay said.
"I wish you could, indeed," Captain Tempe replied, warmly; "but
with your leg you never could keep up, on foot; and a horse would
be out of the question, among the forests of the Vosges mountains.
"You might, however--if you will--be of great use in assisting me
to drill and discipline my recruits, before starting."
"That I will do, with pleasure," Captain Barclay said. "I had been
thinking of offering my services, in that way, to the municipality;
as very few of the officers of the Mobiles, still less of the
national guard, know their duty. As it is, I will devote myself to
your corps, till they march.
"In the first place, how strong do you mean them to be?"
"One strong company, say one hundred and twenty men," Captain Tempe
answered. "More than that would be too unwieldy for guerrilla work.
I would rather have twenty less, than more; indeed, I should be
quite satisfied with a hundred. If I find that volunteers come in,
in greater numbers than I can accept, I shall advise them to get up
other, similar corps. There ought to be scores of small parties,
hanging upon the rear and flank of the enemy, and interrupting his
communication."
"How do you think of arming them?"
"Either with chassepots, or with your English rifles. It is of no
use applying to Government. They will not be able to arm the
Mobiles, for months; to say nothing of the national guard. We must
buy the rifles in England, or Belgium. It will be difficult to get
chassepots; so I think the best plan will be to decide, at once,
upon your Sniders."
"I know a gentleman who is connected with these matters, in
England; and will, if you like, send out an order at once for, say,
eleven dozen Sniders; to be forwarded via Rouen, and thence by
rail."
"I should be very glad if you would do so," Captain Tempe said. "I
have no doubt about getting that number of recruits, easily enough.
I have had a good many calls already, this morning; and several
thousand francs of subscription have been promised. In another
three or four days, the money will be ready; so if you write to
your friends, to make an agreement with a manufacturer, I can give
you the money by the time his answer arrives. When the guns arrive,
those who can pay for them will do so, and the rest will be paid
for by the subscriptions.
"Of course, we shall want them complete with bayonets. If, at the
same time, you can order ammunition--say, two hundred rounds for
each rifle--it would be, perhaps, a saving of time; as the
Government may not be able to supply any, at first. However, after
the meeting, this evening, I shall see how the subscriptions come
in; and we can settle on these points, tomorrow. The municipality
will help, I have no doubt."
"What is your idea as to equipment, Tempe?"
"As light as possible. Nothing destroys the go of men more than to
be obliged to carry heavy weights on their shoulders. We shall be
essentially guerrillas Our attacks, to be successful, must be
surprises. Speed, therefore, and the power to march long distances,
are the first of essentials.
"I do not propose to carry knapsacks--mere haversacks, bags capable
of containing a spare shirt, a couple of pairs of socks, and three
days' biscuits. Each man must also carry a spare pair of boots,
strapped to his belt, behind. A thick blanket--with a hole cut for
the head, so as to make a cloak by day, a cover by night--will be
carried, rolled up over one shoulder like a scarf; and each man
should carry a light, waterproof coat.
"I do not propose to take even tents d'abri. They add considerably
to the weight and, unless when we are actually engaged in
expeditions, we shall make our headquarters at some village; when
the men can be dispersed among the cottages, or sleep in stables,
or barns. When on expeditions, they must sleep in the open air."
"I quite approve of your plan," Captain Barclay said. "Exclusive of
his rifle and ammunition, the weight need not be above fifteen
pounds a man and, with this, they ought to be able to march, and
fight, with comfort. The way your soldiers march out, laden like
beasts of burden, is absurd. It is impossible for men either to
march, or fight, with a heavy load upon their backs.
"Have you thought about uniform?"
"No, I have not settled at all. I thought of letting the men fix
upon one of their own choice."
"Do nothing of the sort," Captain Barclay said. "The men will only
think of what is most becoming, or picturesque. You cannot do
better than fix upon some good, serviceable uniform of a
dark-grayish color; something similar to that of some of our
English Volunteer Corps. I will give you a drawing of it.
"Let the tunics be made of a thick and good cloth. Let the men have
short trousers--or, as we call them, knickerbockers--with leather
gaiters and lace boots. The shoes of your soldier are altogether a
mistake. I will bring you a sketch, tomorrow; and you will see that
it is neat, as well as serviceable."
"Thank you.
"By the way, I suppose that you have no objection to my mentioning,
at the meeting this evening, that your sons have joined? If there
should be any inclination to hang back--which I hope there will not
be--the fact that your boys have joined may decide many who would
otherwise hesitate."
"Certainly.
"I will not detain you longer, at present. I shall see you in a day
or two, and any assistance which I can give is at your service."
"Thanks very much. I only wish that you could go with us.
"Goodbye. Tell the boys that their names are down, and that we
shall begin drill in a day or two."