RISING OF THE PARTISANS
From midnight till six in the morning a flame shone through the
darkness on the summit of the Falkenstein, and the whole mountain was
on the alert.
All the friends of Hullin, Marc Dives, and of Mother Lefevre, their
long gaiters on their legs and old muskets on their shoulders,
journeyed, through the silent woods, toward the gorges of the Valtin.
The thought of the enemy traversing the plains of Alsace to surprise
the passes, was present to the minds of all. The tocsins of Dagsburg,
Abreschwiller, Walsch, and St. Quirin, and of all the other villages,
began to call the defenders of the country to arms.
Now you must picture to yourself the Jaegerthal, at the foot of the old
castle, in unusually snowy weather, at that early hour when the clumps
of trees begin to creep out of the shadow, and when the extreme cold of
night softens at the approach of day. Picture, also, to yourself the
old Sawyerie, with its flat roof, its heavy wheel burdened with
icicles, the low interior dimly lit up by a pine-wood fire, whose blaze
fades away in the glimmer of the coming dawn; and, around the fire, fur
bonnets, caps, and black profiles, gazing one over the other, and
squeezing close together like a wall; and farther on, in the woods,
more fires lighting up groups of men and women squatting in the snow.
The agitation began to decrease. As the sky became grayer the people
recognized each other.
"Ah, it is Cousin Daniel of Soldatenthal. You have come too?"
"Yes, as you see, Heinrich, with my wife also."
"What, Cousin Nanette! Where is she?"
"Down there, near the old oak, by Uncle Hans' fire."
They shook hands. Many could be heard yawning loudly: others threw on
the fire bits of planks. The gourds went round; some retired from the
circles to make room for their shivering neighbors. Meanwhile the
crowd began to grow impatient.
"Ah," cried some, "we did not come here only to get our feet warmed.
It is time to see and come to an understanding."
"Yes, yes! Let them hold a council, and name the chiefs."
"No; everybody is not yet arrived. See, there are more coming from
Dagsburg and St. Quirin."
Indeed, the lighter it became, the more people could be seen hastening
along all the mountain paths. At that time there must have been many
hundreds of men in the valley--wood-cutters, charcoal-burners,
raftsmen--without counting the women and children.
Nothing could be more picturesque than that gathering in the midst of
the snows, in the depths of the defile, closed in as it was by tall
pines losing themselves in the clouds. To the right, the valleys
opening away into each other as far as the eye could reach; to the
left, the ruins of the Falkenstein rising into the sky. From a
distance one would have said it was a flock of cranes settled on the
ice; but, nearer, these hardy men could be distinguished, with stiff
beards bristling like a boar, gloomy fierce eyes, broad square
shoulders, and horny hands. Some few, taller than the rest, belonged
to the fiery race of red men, white-skinned, and hairy to the tips of
their fingers, with strength enough to pull an oak up by the roots.
Among this number was old Materne of Hengst, with his two sons Kasper
and Frantz. These sturdy fellows--all three armed with little rifles
from Innsprueck--having blue cloth gaiters with leathern buttons
reaching above their knees, their loins girdled with goat-skin, and
their felt hats coming down low over their necks--did not deign to
approach the fire. For an hour they had been sitting on a trunk by the
river-side, on the watch, with their feet in the snow. From time to
time the old man would say to his sons, "What do they shiver for over
there? I never knew a milder night for the season: it is nothing--the
rivers are not even touched."
All the forest-hunters of the country passing by came to shake hands
with them, then congregated round them and formed a circle apart.
These fellows spoke little, being used to silence for whole days and
nights, for fear of frightening away their game.
Marc Dives, standing in the middle of another group, a head taller than
any of them, spoke and gesticulated--pointing now to one part of the
mountain, now to another. In front of him was the old herdsman
Lagarmitte, with his large gray smock, a long bark trumpet on his
shoulder, and his dog at his feet. He listened to the smuggler,
open-mouth, and kept on bowing his head. The others all seemed
attentive: they were composed of charcoal-burners and wood-carriers,
with whom the smuggler had daily intercourse.
Between the saw-mills and the first fire, on the bridge over the dam,
sat the bootmaker Jerome of St. Quirin--a man of from fifty to sixty
years of age, with a long brown face, hollow eyes, big nose--his ears
covered with a badger-skin cap--and a yellow beard reaching to his
waist in a peak. His hands, enveloped in great green woollen gloves,
were clasped over an immense stick of knotty service-tree. He wore a
long sackcloth hood; and might easily have been taken for a hermit. At
every rumor that arose, Father Jerome would slowly turn his head, and
try to catch what it was, frowning.
Jean Labarbe, grasping his axe, remained immovable. He was a
white-faced man, with an aquiline nose and thin lips. He exercised
great influence over the men of Dagsburg, owing to his resolution and
the clearness of his ideas. When they shouted around him, "We must
deliberate; we cannot stay here doing nothing," he simply contented
himself with saying, "Let us wait: Hullin has not arrived, nor
Catherine Lefevre. There is no hurry." Everybody then was silenced,
and looked impatiently toward the path from Charmes.
The sawyer Piorette--a small, brisk, thin, energetic man, whose black
eyebrows met above his eyes--stood on the threshold of his hut, with
his pipe between his teeth, contemplating the general appearance of
this scene.
Meanwhile, the impatience increased every moment. Some village
mayors--in square-cut coats and three-cornered hats--advanced in the
direction of the saw-mills, calling on their communes to come and
decide what was to be done. Most fortunately, at last Catherine
Lefevre's cart appeared, and a thousand enthusiastic shouts arose on
all sides:
"There they are! they come!"
Old Materne gravely mounted on a trunk and quietly descended, saying,
"It is they."
Great agitation showed itself. The farthest groups gathered together
in one crowd. A sort of impatient shiver passed over the mass.
Scarcely has the old farmer's wife become visible, whip in hand, on her
straw box with little Louise, than from all parts came cries of "Vive
la France! Vive la mere Catherine!"
Hullin, who had remained behind, his broad hat pushed back, his musket
slung across his shoulder, was now crossing the meadow of Eichmath,
distributing vigorous shakes of the hand: "Good-day, Daniel; good-day,
Colon. Good-day--good-day!"
"Ah! it is going to be warm, Hullin."
"Yes--yes; we are going to hear the chestnuts popping this winter.
Good-day, my old Jerome! We have serious business on hand."
"Yes, Jean-Claude. We must hope to pull through it by the grace of
God."
Catherine, on arriving at the saw-works, told Labarbe to set on the
ground a keg of brandy which she had brought away from the farm, and to
get a jug from the sawyer's cottage.
Soon after, Hullin, coming up to the fire, met Materne and his two sons.
"You have come late," said the old hunter.
"Ah! yes. What was to be done? I had to descend the Falkenstein, get
my gun, and start the women. But as we are now here, let us lose no
more time; Lagarmitte, blow thy horn, so that all the men may assemble.
The first thing is to appoint the leaders."
Lagarmitte blew his long trumpet, his cheeks puffed out to his ears:
then those who were still on the hill-sides or paths hastened their
pace to be in time. Soon all those brave fellows were assembled in
front of the saw-works. Hullin got up on a pile of tree-trunks, and
looking seriously upon the crowd, said, amidst deep silence: "The enemy
crossed the Rhine the day before yesterday: they are marching over the
mountain into Lorraine: Strasbourg and Huningue are blockaded. We may
expect to see the Germans and Prussians in three or four days."
There was a loud shout of "Vive la France!"
[Illustration: THERE WAS A GENERAL SHOUT OF "LONG LIVE FRANCE!"]
"Yes, vive la France!" continued Hullin; "for if the allies enter Paris
they can do what they choose; they can re-establish statute-labor,
tithes, convents, monopolies, and the gallows. If you wish to see that
over again, you have only to let them pass."
It would be impossible to depict the savage fierceness of the audience
at that moment.
"That is what I had to tell you," cried Hullin, quite white. "Since
you are here, it can only be to fight."
"Yes, yes."
"It is well; but listen to me. I will be open with you. Among you are
fathers of families. We shall be one against ten, against fifty: we
must expect to perish. So let the men who have not reflected on it,
who feel they have not heart to do their duty to the end, go--none will
take notice of them. Each man is free."
Then he paused and looked around him. Everybody remained stationary:
then with a firmer voice, he concluded thus: "No one goes away; you are
all, all resolved to fight. Well, I am rejoiced to see there is not
one coward among us. Now a leader must be chosen. In great dangers,
the first thing is order and discipline. The leader you are going to
name will have the right of commanding and being obeyed. So reflect
seriously, for on that man will hang the fate of you all."
So saying, Jean-Claude descended from the tree-trunk, and the agitation
became extreme. Every village deliberated apart by itself--every mayor
proposed his friend--and the hours wore on. Catherine Lefevre was
burning with impatience. At length she could no longer contain
herself, and standing up on her bench, signed that she was going to
speak.
Catherine was held in great esteem. At first only a few, then a larger
number approached to know what she wished to communicate.
"My friends," said she, "we are losing time. What do you wish for? A
trustworthy man, is it not so? a soldier--a man who has seen service,
and who knows how to profit by our positions? Well, why do you not
choose Hullin? Can any one find a better? If so, let him speak, and
we will decide. I propose Jean-Claude Hullin. He! do you hear--over
there? If this continues, the Austrians will have arrived before a
leader has been decided on."
"Yes,--yes! Hullin!" shouted Labarbe, Dives, Jerome, and several
others. "Let us see how many are for and against him."
Then Marc Dives, clambering on to the trunks, cried out in a voice like
thunder: "Those who do not want Jean-Claude Hullin for leader must lift
up their hands."
Not one hand was uplifted.
"Those who want Jean-Claude Hullin for their leader must raise their
hands."
Every hand was put up.
"Jean-Claude," said the smuggler, "mount up here, look--they have
chosen you for their leader."
Master Jean-Claude having done so, saw he was named, and said
immediately in a stern voice: "Good! you name me to be your chief. I
accept! Let Materne the elder, Labarbe of Dagsburg, Jerome of St.
Quirin, Marc Dives, Piorette the sawyer, and Catherine Lefevre, come
into the saw-works. We are going to take counsel. In a quarter of an
hour or twenty minutes, I shall give my orders. Meanwhile, each
village must put two men under the orders of Marc Dives, to fetch
powder and ball from the Falkenstein."