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With an Ambulance During the Franco-German War

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Title: With an Ambulance During the Franco-German War

Author: Charles Edward Ryan


        
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[Illustration:
James Robinson & Sons Dublin, Photo.
Walker & Boutall Ph. Sc.
Charles E Ryan]


WITH AN AMBULANCE DURING THE FRANCO-GERMAN WAR

Personal Experiences and Adventures with Both Armies 1870-1871

by

CHARLES E. RYAN, F.R.C.S.I., M.R.C.P.I.

Knight of the Order of Louis II, of Bavaria

With Portrait and Maps







New York
Charles Scribner's Sons
153-157 Fifth Avenue
1896

Aberdeen University Press.




    TO
    JAMES TALBOT POWER,
    MY OLD FRIEND AND SCHOOLFELLOW,
    I DEDICATE
    THE FOLLOWING PAGES.




PREFACE.


Ere I attempt to set before the public this slight record of my
experiences during the Franco-German War, I must first disclaim all
pretence to literary merit.

It was written in 1873, and is simply an embodiment of a series of notes
or jottings, taken during the war in my spare moments, together with the
contents of a number of descriptive letters to my friends. They were
written solely for them, and nothing was farther from my mind at the
time than the idea of publication.

Thus, they remained in a recess of my study for nearly a quarter of a
century, until a new generation had grown up around me; and doubtless,
but for their friendly importunity, there they would have lain until the
memory of their author, like the ink in which they were written, had
faded to a blank.

I would ask my readers to bear in their kindly recollection that the
scope of such a work as the following must of necessity be limited.

As a medical man, I had at all times and in all places my duties to
perform; hence I have been unable to be as elaborate as other
circumstances might warrant.

I would also remind them (and every one who has been through a campaign
will know) how vague and uncertain is the information which subordinates
possess of the general movements of the army with which they are
serving.

It happens occasionally that they are wholly ignorant of events
occurring around them, the news of which may have already reached the
other side of the world.

Again, I am greatly impressed with the difficulty of representing, in
anything like adequate language, those scenes--some of which have
already been delineated by the marvellous pen of M. Zola in _La
Débâcle_--which the general public could never have fancied, still less
have realised, except by the aid of a masterly exposition of facts such
as that stirring chronicle of the war has given. In it the writer has
dealt rather with history as it occurred, than invented an imaginary
tale; and those who were eye-witnesses of Sedan can add little to his
description.

For many reasons, therefore, I am filled with the sense of my own
incompetence to do justice to my subject. But I console myself with the
reflection that my theme is full of interest to the present generation.
Nor does it appear a vain undertaking if one who was permitted to see
much of both sides should give his impressions as they occurred, and in
the language he would have used at the time. My feeling throughout has
been that of a witness under examination. I have endeavoured to narrate
the incidents which I saw, certainly with as close an approach to the
reality as I could command, and, if in a somewhat unvarnished tale, yet,
as I trust, have set down nought in malice. I have added no colour which
the original sketch did not contain; and have been careful not to darken
the shading.

    CHARLES E. RYAN.

    GLENLARA, TIPPERARY,
    _January, 1896_.




CHAPTER I.

FROM DUBLIN TO PARIS VIA BRUSSELS.--THE WAR FEVER.--LEVIES TO THE FRONT.


The first question friends will naturally ask is, how I came to think of
going abroad to take part in the struggle between France and Germany,
what prompted me to do so, and by what combination of circumstances my
hastily arranged plans were realised.

These points I will endeavour to explain. From the outset of the war I
took a deep interest in the destinies of France, and warmly sympathised
with her in her affliction. I longed earnestly to be of some service to
her; indeed, my enthusiasm was so great at the time that I would even
have fought for her could I have done so. I was then studying medicine
in Dublin, and was in my twenty-first year. Just about the time of the
battles of Weissenburg and Wörth nearly every one in Dublin was
collecting old linen to make _charpie_ for the French wounded; and, as I
could do nothing else, I exerted myself in getting together from my
friends all the material I could procure for the purpose. Day by day
news poured in of French defeats following one another in close
succession, with long lists of killed and wounded; while among other
details I learnt that the French were very short of medical men and
skilled dressers, and that the sufferings of the wounded were, in
consequence, beyond description. I thought to myself, "Now is my
opportunity. If I could but get out to those poor fellows I might render
them some substantial assistance; and what an amount of suffering might
one not alleviate did one but give them a draught of cold water to
appease their agonising thirst!"

For a few days these thoughts occupied my mind almost to the exclusion
of every other. It happened one evening, when I was returning by train
from Kingstown, that I met Dr. Walshe, surgeon to Jervis Street
Hospital. During the course of our conversation, which was upon the then
universal topic of the Franco-German War, he remarked that if he were
unmarried and as young and active as I was, he would at once go over to
France, and seek a place either in a military field hospital or in an
ambulance, or endeavour to get into the Foreign Legion, which was then
being enrolled, adding, that he greatly wondered no one as yet had left
Dublin with this object. I replied, "I shall be the first, then, to lead
the way"; and there and then made up my mind to set out.

It was the 12th of August, 1870.

I endeavoured to discover some kindred spirit who would come out with me
and share my adventures, but not one could I find. Those who had not
very plausible reasons at hand, to disguise those which perhaps they
had, laughed at my proposal, and appeared to look upon me as little
better than a mad fellow. How could I dream of going out alone to a
foreign country, where the fiercest war of the century was raging? Even
some of my professors joined in the laugh, and good-humouredly wished me
God-speed and a pleasant trip, adding that they were sure I should be
back again in a few days. Two of them had, in fact, just returned from
Paris, where they could find nothing to do; and they reported that it
was dangerous to remain longer, as the populace were marching up and
down the streets in the most disorderly fashion, and strangers ran no
small risk of being treated as Prussian spies.

All this was unpleasant to hear; but I was determined not to be
thwarted; and so, portmanteau in hand, I stepped on board the Kingstown
boat. It was the 15th August, a most glorious autumn evening, and the
sea was beautifully calm. I now felt that my enterprise had begun, and
as I stood on deck watching the beautiful scenery of Dublin Bay receding
from my view, the natural reflection occurred that this might be the
last time I should see my native land. I was leaving the cherished
inmates of that bright little spot, which I now more than ever felt was
my home. It would be my first real experience of the world, and I was
about to enter upon the battle of life alone.

Arriving in London on the morning of the 16th, and having spent the day
with some of my school friends, in the evening I went on board the
Ostend boat at St. Katharine's wharf. We were to start at four o'clock
next morning. I slept until I was awakened by the rolling of the vessel
out at sea. The boat was a villainous little tub, and appeared to me to
go round like a teetotum. We had an unusually long and rough passage of
sixteen hours, and I was fearfully ill the whole time. When we arrived
at Ostend, so bad was I that I could not leave my cabin until long after
everybody else. Hence a friend of mine, Monsieur le Chevalier de Sauvage
Vercourt, who had come up from Liège to meet me, made certain when he
failed to perceive me among the passengers that I had missed the boat.
On inquiring, however, of the steward if any one had remained below he
discovered me.

My friend gave me two letters of introduction, one to M. le Vicomte de
Melun, which subsequently got me admitted into "La Société Française
pour le secours aux blessés de terre et de mer"; the other to the Mayor,
M. Lévy, asking him whether he could find a way for me into the Army as
an assistant. When I had pulled myself together a bit, Vercourt and I
dined together in the open air, at a Café on the Grande Promenade.

It was the fashionable hour, and every one seemed to be in gala dress.
Half, at least, of those we saw were English, the remainder French and
Belgians. It is a curious sensation, that of being for the first time in
a foreign country, where one's whole surroundings differ from all one
has been accustomed to see and hear in one's native land. My boyish
experience made everything, however trivial, a subject of interest. As I
walked through the town with Vercourt, I was greatly struck by the
civility of the people, their cleanliness and the neatness of their
persons and dress, and above all by the absence of any visible
wretchedness even among the poor.

These points occupied our attention and conversation until we found
ourselves on our way to Brussels. The country through which we passed,
though really most unattractive, had for me many points of interest, and
gave me an agreeable picture of what was meant by "foreign climes".

The bright clean cottages and farmsteads, with their gardens and
flowers, contrasted lamentably to my mind with the tumble-down
dilapidated hovels of mud, surrounded by slush and water, which I had
been accustomed to see from my childhood. Everything bespoke the
comfort, happiness, and prosperity of these people. The neatly trimmed
hedges with which every field is fenced, the lines of poplars skirting
the roadways and canals give a surprisingly smart and cultivated aspect
to the whole face of the country. I was greatly struck by the blue
smocks and wooden sabots of the men and women. Even the children in the
rural parts of Belgium wear these wooden shoes. During our stoppages at
the different stations the Flemish jargon, as in my untravelled
ignorance I called it, of the rustics amused me. I noticed in one part
of the country that all the pumps had their handles at the top, and that
these moved up and down like the ramrod of a gun. It was novel to see
the people on stools working them. At ten o'clock that night we arrived
in Brussels, and put up at the Hôtel de Suède.

My friend and I rose early next morning, and went sight-seeing. He was
an _habitué_ of the place, so our time was spent to the best advantage.
That Brussels is a most charming town was my first impression; and I
think so still. My delight at seeing the Rue de la Reine and the
Boulevards leading from it I shall not easily forget. A city beautifully
timbered and abounding in fountains, grass, and flowers, was indeed a
novelty to one whose experience of cities had been gained in smoky
London and dear dirty Dublin. In the Rue de la Reine I remarked the two
carriage-ways, divided by a grove of trees. This plantation consisted of
full-grown limes, elms, sycamores, arbutus, and acacias. There was yet
another row on the footpath, next the houses. The breadth of this long
Boulevard may be about that of Sackville Street. It was a beautiful
sunny day, and as I sauntered along beneath the trees something new met
my eye at every turn. I was struck by such a simple matter as seeing the
carriages dash into the courtyards through the open gates, instead of
stopping in the street, whilst the occupants were making a morning call.
Then the high-stepping horses and the gaudy equipages were enough, as I
thought, to dazzle the youthful mind. One could live here a lifetime and
never know that such a thing as dirt existed,--at all events, in the
sense with which we were only too conversant in some parts of my native
land twenty-five years ago.

These simple observations of the boy at his first start in life make me
smile as I read them over. Yet I do not think that I ought to suppress
them; for who is there that has not felt the indescribable charm of
those early days, when the commonest things in our journeying fill the
mind as if they were a wonder in themselves? And what is there in the
grown man's travels to equal that opening glimpse of a world we have so
often heard talked about, yet never have seen with our eyes until now?

But to return. It was in the Rue du Pont that I first saw the tramways.
I went in one of the cars to the superb Park, which is as fine as any in
Europe, and of which Brussels is so justly proud. It amused me beyond
measure to see the butchers', bakers', and grocers' boys driving about
their carts drawn by teams of huge dogs, varying in number from one to
four. While the drivers were delivering their goods the poor animals
would lie down in their harness with their tongues out, until a short
chirp brought them on their feet again, ready to start. This seemed for
them the most difficult part, since once set going, they went at a great
rate, apparently without much trouble, and rather enjoying their task
than otherwise. I have seen teams of dogs so fresh that they were all
barking whilst they tore along the street at full speed. In the evening
the cafés were beautifully illuminated; and seated beneath the trees
hundreds of people enjoyed their cigarettes and _café noir_, while they
discussed, with many and vigorous gesticulations, the affairs of Europe.
In the afternoon of the 18th I bade good-bye to my kind friend Vercourt,
who had been so admirable a cicerone to me, and took my seat in the
train for Paris.

During our journey I was rudely awakened from a sound sleep at one
station by every one suddenly jumping on their legs and crying out, "_La
douane!_" while they seized their luggage, and rushed out of the train
as if it were on fire. If you did not do the same you were
unceremoniously bundled out by the officials. To every inquiry I got the
same answer, "_C'est la douane_". Now this word was not in my
vocabulary. I may observe that at my school French was taught on the
good old plan, out of Racine and "Télémaque," in which commercial terms
are not abundant, and hence I did not know in the least the meaning of
"_la douane_"; it might have signified fire, blood or murder; and I was
for a long time sorely puzzled. I thought in my drowsy confusion that
some part of the train had broken down, and that all the passengers and
luggage had to be removed with as much haste as possible. But when I, a
passenger to Paris, saw a fellow seize my portmanteau and disappear with
it through one of the doors, it was too much for me; I went after my
effects, collared him, and asked him, in the best French I could muster,
where he was going with my property. A big gendarme explained the
situation, and pointed to a large room, where the rattling of keys and
opening of boxes soon made his interpretation unnecessary.

On returning to my carriage I found myself next a middle-aged gentleman,
who, though he spoke French fluently to his neighbours, was evidently an
Englishman. We joined in conversation, and he seemed to know more about
Ireland and Irish affairs than I did myself, which, in truth, might
easily have been. He had such a frank, genial manner, and appeared to
feel so genuine a sympathy, not only with my own countrymen, but with
poor suffering France, that I confided to him my story and mission,
which evidently pleased him; and he told me that he would get me a cheap
billet from his landlady in the Hôtel de l'Opéra, a comfortable hotel
centrally situated opposite the new Opera House. He had told me his name
was Steel, but vouchsafed no further information about himself. When we
arrived in Paris he was accosted by several of the officials as Monsieur
le Général; and he bade me stay with him, and said that he would
accompany me to my hotel. Having, after much tiresome waiting, got
possession of our luggage, we passed out of the station between two
lines of soldiers, and were carefully and closely inspected before being
allowed to proceed. A whisper from my new friend the General appeared to
be a magic pass, for every one seemed to know him. A stalwart gendarme
demanded my passport, took down my name and address, where I last came
from, and what was my business in Paris, and then let me go. When we
arrived at the Hôtel de l'Opéra, again the concierge greeted my
mysterious friend with the title of M. le Général, when he hurried
upstairs, bidding me wait until he came down, and he would go out with
me to dine at a restaurant.

As I stepped outside the door and looked up and down the Boulevards, I
knew at once that what I had heard and read of the beauties of Paris as
seen by night was no fiction, but a bright reality. What added to the
novelty of the scene was that the whole populace seemed to be in a fever
of excitement. I asked my friend what was it all about. He told me that
they were rejoicing because a proclamation had just been made from the
Mairie of three glorious victories won by their arms. This accounted for
the bands of civilians, thousands in each, composed of labourers and
artisans, who were marching boisterously up and down the streets,
cheering and singing the "Marseillaise," with flags and banners flying
of every colour and description. The sight was at first appalling, as
that momentary glance recalled to my mind so vividly what I had read
about the scenes enacted in the streets of Paris during the first
Revolution, by a similar communistic and ungovernable mob. Yet I thought
the whole thing good fun; but my friend warned me not to speak, and told
me to keep out of the streets at night. It was dangerous for a stranger
to go out after dark, since the populace were apt to take him for a spy,
or as being there in the interest of the enemy, and this might mean
instantaneous death. Such things had occurred lately. We now turned
into the Café Anglais, and dined very well, after which my mysterious
friend took leave of me and disappeared. I only saw him again for five
minutes a few days subsequently, and have never set eyes on him since,
nor could I get any satisfactory information at the hotel, although they
informed me that he was a resident in Paris, and was often at the Hôtel
de l'Opéra. Perhaps some reader of these pages may know more concerning
M. le Général Steel than I ever did. Who and what was he? But conjecture
is idle work, and I must get on with my story.

Having seen Brussels before Paris, the latter did not make that
impression which it generally does on one who views it for the first
time, before he has visited any other of the capital cities on the
Continent,--for Brussels is a miniature Paris. I walked up and down the
Boulevards, observing everything and everybody, until, feeling somewhat
tired, I looked at my watch, and found to my astonishment that it was
nearly one o'clock, so I returned to my hotel and went to bed, and
dreamed of the glories of the city of pleasure.

Next morning, the 19th, I sallied out in quest of the Mansion House to
which I had been directed. For some time I walked up and down the
Boulevards in order to make observations as to my whereabouts, and to
note my surroundings. My first great landmark was the beautiful new
Opera House, which is one of the sights of Paris. Its massive pillars
and wonderful display of allegorical figures, all in white marble,
delighted me--as also did the wooded Boulevards with their gorgeous
shops and all the pleasing sights which met my gaze at every turn.

Having been only a few days in the country, I naturally felt a little
shy at venturing into anything like a long conversation with the
natives. Soon, however, I mustered up sufficient courage (to be wanting
in which was to fail in my errand) to ask my way of one of those gaily
dressed officers of the peace, who, from their gorgeous uniform and the
dignity of their manners, I had made up my mind could be nothing less
than majors-general of the reserve out for a stroll.

My bad French elicited from this worthy only the most courteous
civility, and he took the greatest pains to explain to me my route. As I
went on I felt elated at this first experience of the proverbial
civility of Frenchmen, and was sure that I should find it easy to get on
with them.

After some two miles of pleasant rambling, I arrived at the Mairie in
the Place du Prince Eugène; but found that M. le Maire was out, so
returned and dined at the Café Royale, opposite the Madeleine and
afterwards visited the church, and walked outside it several times. It
was from all sides alike massive and beautiful, nor was I disappointed
at its interior, though I confess it did not impress me so much as the
façade. Having spent an hour inspecting its details I took a cabriolet
to the Mansion House, where, having sent in Vercourt's letter, I was
ushered into the presence of M. le Maire, after about ten minutes
waiting.

This polished gentleman received me with the greatest kindness and
civility, but explained that he could not procure me a place in the Army
Medical Department. He referred me to l'Intendance Militaire, Rue St.
Dominique, which was the Foreign Legion Office. I at once started
afresh, and, having found out the officials to whom I was directed, they
informed me that they had not the power of giving appointments, but that
M. Michel Lévy, Medicine Inspecteur, Val de Grace, was the person to
whom I should apply, at the same time assuring me that there was not the
least use in my doing so, as the Foreign Legion was fully equipped and
all the vacancies filled up. Believing this information to be correct, I
set this last proposition aside and kept it in my sleeve as a _dernier
ressort_. Although defeated in my object I was not in the least
discouraged, for I had determined to make every effort before confessing
myself beaten.

As I was much fatigued, and it was too late to prosecute my plans any
further that day, I went out for a stroll on the Boulevards. Presently
I heard the trampling of horses coming down the street, mingled with the
loud cheering of the populace. It was a troop of Cuirassiers, and in
another minute I was in the midst of a seething crowd, and could
perceive nothing around me but a sea of hands, hats, and heads in
commotion. The civilians, who were in a wild state of excitement,
cheered the troops, "Vive les Cuirassiers!" while the dragoons in return
shouted "A Berlin!" and "Vive la France!"--not "Vive l'Empereur!" When
they had passed, the excitement continued in another form, for a
desperate-looking mob marched up and down in detachments as they had
done upon the previous night, with flags flying, and banners waving,
singing all the while "La Marseillaise" and the "Champs de la Patrie,"
with intervening shouts of "A Berlin". All this was of great interest to
me, especially the singing. When the crowd joined in the chorus of their
National Anthem the effect was something never to be forgotten.

I now went to bed, feeling sleepy and done up from sheer excitement.
Next day, the 20th August, a lovely morning, I found my way to the
Palais de l'Industrie, where, after waiting three hours in a crowded
ante-room, I presented my letter to M. le Vicomte de Melun, who came out
to see me. This kind old gentleman spoke graciously, and desired me to
come next day, when he would give me a place in an Ambulance. Fully
satisfied this time with the result of my efforts I returned with a
light heart, and having dined in the Rue Royale went out sight-seeing. A
few hundred paces brought me into the Place de la Concorde, and, oh,
what an incredibly magnificent sight presented itself from the centre of
that beautiful square! I passed the rest of the evening in the Bois de
Boulogne, and rising early next morning, full of hope, hastened to the
Palais de l'Industrie, where, without much delay, I saw M. de Melun. He
informed me with regret that every place in the Ambulances about to
start had been filled up previous to my application. However, if I left
my letters and certificates and came again on Tuesday morning, he would
let me know, should there be a vacancy for me in any of those which were
starting at the end of the week.

This second disappointment greatly annoyed me, but I did not give in. As
it was Sunday I hastened back to High Mass at the Madeleine, a grand
choral and musical display. The constant clink of the money and the
click of the beadle's staff as he strode along bespangled with gold lace
and gaudy trappings, made prayer and recollection well nigh an
impossibility. Coming out of church, I met an old schoolfellow of mine,
a Parisian, with whom I had a long chat and pleasant walk in the
Tuileries. He pointed out to me the Empress leaving the Palace by a
private way, accompanied by some of her ladies-in-waiting. I may remark
that she wore a dress of grey silk, trimmed with black crape.

During the whole of this day troops continued to march through the city,
some mere regiments of beardless boys, awkward and unsoldierlike, but
with a true martial spirit, if one might judge by the hearty way in
which they sang as they went along, and joined in the choruses.

These were the latest levies, and were going to the front. Next day,
Monday the 22nd, after many circuitous wanderings, I made my way to the
Irish College; and left my letter of introduction to Father M----, who
was not at home, but was expected the following day. When I got back I
found that the Boulevards and Champs Elysées were thronged with noisy
workmen singing the "Marseillaise" on their way home from the
fortifications, where they had been employed in great numbers on the
extensive works which were being now pushed forward night and day. To
avoid being jostled by the mob I took a place on the top of an omnibus.
It was dusk, and as we came down the Champs Elysées, the beautifully
illuminated gardens, with their cafés chantants, merry-go-rounds and
bowers,--surrounded by the most fanciful and pretty devices imaginable,
and lighted up with miniature lamps,--together with the lively din of
music and singing followed by rounds of applause, made me feel
transported for the moment to fairyland. But it was a short-lived
delusion; and who would imagine, with all this folly, at once so
frivolous and so French, that the great tragedy of war was being enacted
around us? However, that such was the case even here was abundantly
evident, for it was the sole topic of conversation. Soldiers were
everywhere in the streets; the public vehicles and omnibuses were
crammed with them; their officers seemed to monopolise half the private
carriages; they crowded the public buildings, and soldiers' heads
appeared out of half the street windows. I had always heard that
Frenchmen were a highly excitable people, and the truth of that saying
was never so clearly demonstrated. Here they were in their thousands,
moving about in a state of restless, purposeless commotion, singing
songs from noon to midnight, and, as it appeared to me, most of them
quite out of their senses.

Tuesday, the 23rd August, I went once more to try my luck at the Palais
de l'Industrie; and M. le Vicomte de Melun again told me that there was
no vacancy, but my name had been placed on the Society's books for an
appointment, and when the vacancy occurred he would communicate with me
at the Hôtel de l'Opéra. I felt disappointed that every effort up to
this had been a failure, but consoled myself at having gained one point,
_viz._, that of having been registered as a member of the Red Cross
Society.

I now determined to try some of the working staff, who, though perhaps
less influential than the Vicomte, might be able to help me quite as
well. Not to be daunted, I went to another part of the Palais, where I
informed a gentleman, who, I perceived, was a superintendent and active
manager, that my name had been placed on the Society's books by M. de
Melun. This made him all attention. He spoke English well, and was very
civil to me. His name was M. Labouchère, 77 Rue Malesherbes. In few
words I told him the object of my mission, how I wanted to work, and was
willing to accept a place in any capacity whatever, in the service of
the wounded. He now informed me that there was one vacancy as aide in a
Belgian Ambulance, and as I was most anxious to fill it he had my name
put down. He gave me the casquet and badge of the Society, and told me
to come to-morrow for my outfit and all necessaries.

In the meantime I was sent out with eight or ten others of the Swiss
Ambulance, to collect money in the streets through which we passed. We
went in a body, and had each a little net bag at the end of a long pole,
very like a landing net, but with a longer handle and a smaller net. As
we passed along we cried out, "Pour les blessés," and as the omnibuses
and carriages drew up while we were passing, we availed ourselves of
this opportunity by putting our bags up to and sometimes through the
windows, and landing them in the laps of those within. By this means we
got heaps of silver pieces, and even gold from some of the best dressed
personages. We also put our nets up to the windows, wherever we saw them
occupied, and into the shops. Large crowds gathered along the route, and
everybody gave something,--a great many two and five franc pieces. It
was several hours before we reached the railway station, as we went very
slowly. All knew by my accent that I was a foreigner, and perhaps
British; and they seemed to like the idea, for they pressed forward to
throw their coins to me, when there were other nets nearer them. When
the time of reckoning came I found that I had collected more than my
comrades. I saw ladies in the carriages that passed us crying bitterly,
and the weeping and evident grief of the ambulance men on parting with
their friends at the railway terminus were very touching. Having placed
my money in the van I returned to the Palais de l'Industrie, where I was
introduced to M. le Verdière, second in command in the Belgian
Ambulance. He desired me to come at nine o'clock next day to get into my
uniform and prepare for starting.

Highly pleased at what I considered at last a success, I went, as I had
previously arranged, to see Dr. M---- at the Irish College. He received
me very warmly, and introduced me to a Chinese bishop with a pigtail,
whom I found a most intelligent and agreeable man.

That evening I saw troops going to the front in heavy marching order;
and although they were four abreast, they reached from the Arc de
Triomphe to within some little distance of the Place de la Concorde. On
my way home I met a man who told me sorrowfully that before the war he
had been a successful teacher with a large class, but that all his
pupils were drawn in the conscription, and his occupation was gone.

Next morning, the 24th, I was all excitement, as I fully expected that
this day might see me on my way to the front. I hastened to the Palais
de l'Industrie, where M. Labouchère informed me of the nature of my
appointment in the Belgian Ambulance. What was my astonishment when I
found that I should have ten _infirmiers_ under me, for whom I was to be
responsible, and to whom I must issue orders! Much as I desired to
accept this most tempting offer, common sense got the better of my
ambition; and I declined, feeling conscious that my imperfect knowledge
of French would prevent my being able to discharge my duties with
efficiency.

All this was a disappointment and a humiliation, but I had now become
used to reverses. My friends, of whom I had already quite a number,
comforted me by saying that I should be most likely sent to Metz, which
was full of wounded with but few attendants, numbers of the latter
having been carried off by typhus fever, which was making great havoc in
the town. I stated that I had not the least objection to going if the
Society wished me to do so; but I felt that I should prefer some other
mission. Later on in the day, as I was searching for M. Labouchère in
the Palais de l'Industrie, I was astonished to perceive that one of the
large open spaces of the Palais, which was used but yesterday for
drilling the recruits, now contained rows of mounted cannon placed close
beside each other, while the unmounted guns were piled in lines one
above another; great heaps of cannon balls were also stacked in the
centre, like ricks of turf. This change, wrought since the evening
before, will give an idea of the rapidity and energy with which the
Government plans were being executed. Emerging by one of the upper doors
of the building, I was startled at seeing the whole Champs Elysées
occupied by masses of soldiers, flanked at each side by double rows of
cavalry. They were being inspected before going to the front. It was a
splendid sight. I went out afterwards to the Bois de Boulogne, where the
timber next the ramparts was already being cut down. There were crowds
of men at work on the fortifications as I passed through, making ready
for the siege.

As it was growing dusk I moved towards home, and met on my way a stream
of soldiers dressed in a most elaborate uniform, differing in every way
from that of the Line. From the enthusiastic reception they met with on
all sides, and the familiar smiles and nods which they exchanged with
the admiring citizens, I knew that they were the Garde Nationale, the
pride of the Parisians.




CHAPTER II.

I JOIN THE ANGLO-AMERICAN AMBULANCE.--M. DE FLAVIGNY'S SPEECH.--TO
MÉZIÈRES AND SEDAN.


August 25th I went to my official quarters full of hope, but found that
nothing further had been decided. M. Labouchère told me that I was
certain of a place in a French Ambulance, and presented my testimonials
and papers to the chief of the 8th Ambulance, who disappeared with them
into the committee room, promising to send me an answer at once. This he
never did, though I waited his reply for some hours, until hunger
compelled me to go in search of dinner, which I found in the Boulevard
St. Michel, No. 43, Café-Brasserie du Bas Rhin, where I had as much beef
as I could wish for. (I was afterwards told that nothing but horse flesh
was sold at this restaurant.)

I then returned to the Palais de l'Industrie, where I was offered a post
in the Medical Staff in charge of a train between Paris and Metz. I
declined, upon the ground of my expecting to hear every minute of my
having been appointed to an Ambulance. Hours passed without a syllable
from the Chief of the 8th Ambulance; and now for the first time I felt
discouraged, but pulled myself together, and again threw myself with
energy into the struggle.

I still had forces in reserve; for my friend, Madame A----,
lady-in-waiting to the Empress, had promised me letters of introduction,
which I daily expected, but which had not yet arrived. As I was whiling
away the time conversing with one of the understrappers of the Palais,
he told me that the siege of Paris by the Prussians was confidently
expected by most Parisians; they talked of cutting down all the trees
around Paris, and demolishing the farmsteads and farm produce in the
vicinity, and my informant observed, "Déjà on cherche la démolition du
Bois de Boulogne".

I walked out to the fortifications and saw batches of men throwing up
mounds, whilst others were making excavations beneath the mason-work of
the permanent bridges, to facilitate their being blown up on the
approach of the enemy. Upon my return the garçon at the Hotel showed me
with much pride his uniform and accoutrements, with which he had been
presented that day on being made a member of the National Guard.

The loud beating of drums and the clatter and din of horses and men as
they passed along the Boulevards before dawn, made it easy to be up at
an early hour next morning, the 26th of August.

I set out for the Palais de l'Industrie, where an order was handed me
to hold myself in readiness to start that night for the front, so I
returned quickly to my hotel, paid my bill and packed up my traps. I
found two letters awaiting me: one from Madame A----, with an
introduction to Professor Ricord, the Emperor's surgeon; and another
from the Princess Poniatowsky, enclosing a note to the Count de
Flavigny, President of the Society. They were now of no use, as I had
been appointed to an Ambulance; but had I got them at first I should
have been saved many days of anxious waiting. As it afterwards turned
out, it was my good luck that they did not arrive sooner. An order was
now issued that all strangers should quit Paris; and a heavy gloom
seemed to be settling down rapidly over every one and everything. The
conviction was daily growing that the Prussians were approaching Paris;
but no one really knew, as every day's intelligence contradicted that of
the day before. There seemed to be a great national competition in
lying, in which every one manfully struggled for the prize.

At this juncture I was introduced to Dr. Frank, second in command of an
Ambulance which had lately been organised in Paris by a number of
English and American surgeons, and which was known as the
Anglo-American. Dr. Frank received me courteously, and appointed me one
of his _sous-aides_ or dressers. Having given me directions as to my
outfit, he sent me off with another young member of the Ambulance, John
Scott of Belfast, to procure all necessary supplies. The pleasure I
experienced at finding myself in harness at last was beyond expression;
and it was not lessened by discovering in my new mate a bright, jovial,
and witty companion and a fellow-countryman to boot. We hurried off to
the Palais Royal, where we ordered our uniforms, knapsacks and kits, and
then went out and had a chat and a stroll.

Saturday morning, the 27th, Dr. Frank introduced me to Dr. Marion Sims,
now chef or surgeon-in-chief, and also to his staff, which was composed
of Drs. MacCormac, Webb, Blewitt, May, Tilghman, Nicholl, Hayden, and
Hewitt, and Drs. Wyman and Pratt, as also to Mr. Fred Wallace and Harry
Sims. Hewitt and I worked away for some hours getting the stores ready.
Having finished this task we went to be photographed at Nader's, in full
marching kit. I now packed up everything I did not want and sent them to
M. de B----'s house (where they remained until after the war was over),
and made my final preparations for starting. I received a month's pay in
advance from Dr. Frank, so there was but little chance of my being hard
up for money, as we were to be found in everything. Colonel Loyd
Lindsay's English branch of the "Société pour le Secours aux Blessés"
furnished the English contingent of the ambulance with the sinews of
war; and of this Dr. Frank was the representative.

On the 28th August I went in full uniform to the Madeleine, after which
I took all my traps to the Palais de l'Industrie, where I met Marion
Sims and had a chat with him. He addressed me kindly as "my dear boy";
and from the gentleness of his manner and his sympathetic nature, I felt
that I should like him very much; and so it afterwards came to pass. We
all now worked with a will, getting together our stores, provisions,
horses and waggons, and making all ready for the procession, which,
after a scene of confusion, noise, and excitement, left the Palais de
l'Industrie about three o'clock, in the following order:--In front,
carried by Dr. Sims' three charming daughters, the flags of England,
France, and America; then the surgeons and the assistant surgeons; after
these the dressers or _sous-aides_, of which I was one; then the
_infirmiers_, all fully equipped, with the waggons for stores and
wounded bringing up the rear.

While we were standing in our places, in the Champs Elysées, waiting for
the final start, a young girl, pretty, and elegantly dressed in deep
mourning, stepped up and tried to address me, but she sobbed so much
that I could with difficulty understand what she said. After a little
time she made her wish intelligible. Should her husband ever come
across my path in a wounded condition, she charged me to be kind to him,
and to bestow upon him particular care for her sake. The earnestness
with which she confided her sorrow to me, a stranger who had nothing to
recommend him but his youth, well nigh overcame me, so that the poor
thing very nearly had a companion in tears. She gave me her card, which
I still possess. The girl could not have been more than twenty. I tried
to say something to her that was kind; but so confused and upset was I
that I could hardly utter a word. Presently the Count de Flavigny came
forward and addressed us in a long and eloquent speech, flattering alike
to our nationalities and to our cause.

A death-like silence reigned throughout the crowd as he reminded us of
the scenes upon which we were about to enter; the cause we were to
vindicate; the hardships we were likely to undergo; the good that each
of us was bound in duty to perform; the sacrifice of every personal
consideration, and even of our lives if necessary, in the grand and holy
cause of the service of the wounded.

There were tears in many eyes, for not a few of the bystanders had at
that moment friends near and dear, in dread suffering and perhaps in the
agony of death. These few minutes made a deep impression upon me.

I now realised that I was entering upon a hazardous campaign, and felt
the weight of the task that I had undertaken; and as the word
"_Marchez_" was given I stepped out strong in mind and body, proud of
the privilege which it had pleased Providence to bestow upon me, and
yearning to fulfil that mission of charity which we had that day
inaugurated.

As we passed through the streets in the order I have already given, the
dense crowds cheered us along the way to the railway station (de l'Est),
crying, "Vive les Americains!" "Vive l'Angleterre!" while the
handkerchiefs of the ladies waved from all windows. Tears flowed
abundantly on every side, as they readily do in France for less reason
than the present one. All were delighted at the practical sympathy of
the foreigners, on behalf of their wounded and suffering
fellow-countrymen.

The crowds were so great that we found it difficult to make anything
like rapid progress, and were several hours reaching the station.

Having arrived at our destination, we took our seats in the
waiting-room, not knowing in the least where we were going, as no one
did but the chief and Dr. Frank. After waiting a couple of hours we got
into a train in which we started off into the darkness, for it was ten
o'clock. We travelled all night, and as morning dawned arrived at
Soissons. Here we learned that we were under orders to join MacMahon's
army at once. As from information received, Dr. Sims supposed him to be
somewhere in the vicinity of Sedan, it was his intention to make for
Mézières, a small town in that neighbourhood, which we reached on Monday
night, 29th August, arriving at Sedan the following morning, Tuesday,
30th, and remaining there to await further orders.

As we entered the town I was astonished to perceive that not a single
soldier was visible, and that the sentinels on duty at the gates were
peasants dressed in blue blouses, bearing guns upon their shoulders, a
military képi being the only attempt at uniform.

All was still as we hastened through the streets to our quarters, at the
Croix d'Or in the Rue Napoléon.




CHAPTER III.

AT SEDAN.--THE EMPEROR IN TRANSIT.--OUR FIRST RETREAT BEFORE THE
PRUSSIANS.--THE CASERNE D'ARSFELD.


On the 30th of August we got orders through the _Courrier des
Ambulances_, the Vicomte de Chizelles, to proceed at once to Carignan,
where hard fighting had been going on, and where, we were told, the
field had been won by the French. Accordingly at noon the whole
ambulance moved out of the town, by the Torcy gate to the railway
station, a few hundred yards outside the ramparts, whence a special
train was to have carried us on to the field of our labours. Through
some mismanagement on the part of the French authorities, and through a
combination of adverse circumstances, our transport was delayed so long
that we were unable to leave that evening. The railway officials
contended that the cause of the delay was neglect, on the part of our
_comptable_, to specify the exact amount of accommodation required for
the transport of our waggons, stores, and horses, without which we could
not work efficiently on the field of battle; but the real cause of the
delay, we subsequently discovered, was the capturing and blocking of
the line by the Prussians, which fact was, in French fashion, studiously
concealed from us. All this was very annoying to our chiefs, who were
most anxious to get to the front. In order, therefore, that we might be
able to start at daybreak next morning, we took up our quarters for that
night in the station house. Being much fatigued after the excitement of
the day we went to the bureau, where all our luggage was, and, after
much ado, got hold of our wraps. There was one large waiting-room
through which every one was obliged to pass in order to enter or leave
the station, and here I and a number of my comrades stretched ourselves
upon the bare boards, covered up in our rugs and overcoats.

Shortly after eleven o'clock, the arrival of a train caused us to start
to our feet. The Germans, we knew, were in the neighbourhood, and the
thought of a surprise flashed simultaneously through the mind of each
one, when, to our intense astonishment, the door opened, and Napoléon,
with his entire état major, marshals, and generals, walked into the
room.

The Emperor wore a long dark blue cloak and a scarlet gold-braided képi.
At first he seemed rather surprised at our presence, and for a moment or
two delayed returning our salute, which he eventually acknowledged by a
slight inclination of the head. He had a tired, scared, and haggard
appearance, and, besides looking thoroughly ill, seemed anxious and
impatient. After a few moments' delay he hurried off on foot, in the
midst of his _entourage_, through the station house, and along the road
leading to the town of Sedan.

I and two of my comrades followed until we saw the Emperor and his
attendants arrive at the gate, through which, after some parley with a
blue-bloused sentry (for there was not a regular soldier in the town),
they gained admittance. As we were about returning to our temporary
quarters, speculating on the probable future as suggested by the scene I
have described, we met a party of soldiers straggling along, composed of
men of different regiments, both line and cavalry. We addressed one of
them, who seemed more tired and worn out than the rest. He told us they
belonged to the 5th and 12th Army Corps, and that they had escaped from
the affair at Beaumont, where, having been several days short of
provisions and exhausted with hunger and fatigue, the French were
thoroughly routed. He said that they numbered about eighty, and were
accompanied by an officer whom I afterwards heard give the name of De
Failly, when challenged by the sentry. This was no other than the
General de Failly who, on that very day at Beaumont, was deprived of his
command for bad leadership, and superseded by De Wimpffen. In the rear
of this party of fugitives was a cartload of women and children. One of
the women told most pitifully how the Prussian shells had that morning
devastated their homes in the vicinity of Beaumont and Raucourt, and how
several parts of those villages were then in flames. These poor
creatures, numbed with cold and fright, gladly partook of the contents
of some of our flasks; and we were all pleased when, after half an
hour's parley with the peasant sentry, the drawbridge was let down and
they were admitted into the town.

I now returned to my quarters in the station, where I slept soundly
until I was awakened at break of day by Dr. Frank, who enjoined us to
get ready at once, so as to push on to the front. This was the morning
of the 31st August. At early dawn there was a thick fog, which, however,
soon cleared away, revealing to us the fact that we were not far from
the Prussian lines, and that they had actually during the night got full
possession of the range of hills commanding the station and the whole
town of Sedan. At times we could see distinctly numbers of Prussian
Uhlans appearing now and then, from behind woods and plantations, on the
heights of Marfée opposite us, and again disappearing, leaving us fully
convinced that there were more where those came from. A little later,
when the fog cleared off, we perceived in the opposite direction, at the
north-east side of the town, numbers of troops moving about. These we
found to be MacMahon's forces. Now we became conscious of how we really
stood. Our chief called us together, and with the stern manner and firm
voice of an old veteran said, "Gentlemen, by a combination of unforeseen
circumstances over which I had no control, we are now in the awkward
position of finding ourselves placed between the line of fire of two
armies. If they commence hostilities we are lost. It is therefore my
intention as promptly as possible to retreat behind the French lines."
Having said so much, he gave the order to move on. This we did across
some fields, which we traversed with ease; but presently we came upon
some heavy potato and turnip plots. Here our progress was necessarily
very slow, heavily-laden as we were, with our three waggons ploughing
through the soft furrows; and as we were not quite sure of the country
that lay between us and the army, our position was most unenviable.

Two of our party, Drs. May and Tilghman, went ahead upon horseback, one
of them carrying an ambulance flag. These two galloped along rather too
impetuously as it appeared, for they came unexpectedly upon the French
outposts, who, not knowing them to be friends, quickly fired a volley at
them. Having discovered who they were they did not repeat this salute.
It was just as our waggon horses had come to a standstill, being
completely exhausted from pulling and floundering in the soft ground,
that Drs. May and Tilghman returned at a gallop to inform us that the
Meuse lay between us and the main body of the army, and that there was
no bridge, or other means of crossing, without going round through the
town.

Just at this moment a courier came up in hot haste to say that, as the
Prussians had just been seen in the immediate vicinity, the gate of the
town would be immediately closed, and that the Military Commandant
required us at once to make good our retreat, and get in the rear of the
French army. We now saw that there was no alternative but to leave our
baggage, stores, and waggons just where they were, and to fly into the
town, which we did with all possible expedition, as from the position of
the enemy we expected every minute that an engagement would take place.
When we got inside the gates, two civilians volunteered, for a reward,
to recover the baggage and waggons, with May and Tilghman as their
leaders. These two gentlemen were veteran campaigners of the American
Confederate Army, as were also all the other Americans of our ambulance,
save Frank Hayden, who hailed from the North.

These not only brought back all our effects, but also a quantity of
potatoes which were found in the field where the waggons had been left,
and upon which we largely subsisted during the week following.

We now reported ourselves to the Intendant Militaire, who told us that
he had the night before received an order to have in readiness 1800 beds
for the use of the wounded. There was not a military surgeon in the
town, nor any medical stores or appliances save our own; and of civilian
doctors we never heard, nor were they _en évidence_.

The Intendant Militaire put all the beds which he had provided at our
disposal, and gave us full control over their disposition and
management.

Accordingly we took possession of the Caserne D'Asfeld, and made ready
for receiving the wounded. We also had our stores arranged so that
everything might be at hand when required.

It was while thus busily engaged, transporting our stores, and putting
things in their place ready for use, that I saw the Emperor Napoléon
slowly pacing up and down in front of the Sous-Préfecture, cigar in
mouth, with his hands behind his back and head bent, gazing vacantly at
the ground.

All that morning we had heard the distant booming of cannon, in the
southward direction of Carignan and Mouzon. As the day advanced the
cannonading came nearer, and grew more distinct, until it seemed to be
in the immediate neighbourhood of the town. At nightfall the firing
ceased, and we could perceive the glare of a distant village, in the
direction of Douzy, lighting up the darkness.

A brief sketch of the defences of Sedan, as well as an explanation of
the position in which our hospital stood with regard to the
fortifications, will not be out of place. The river Meuse, on the right
bank of which Sedan is situated, communicates by sluice-gates with two
deep trenches about thirty feet wide, separated from one another by a
high embankment. On opening these gates, the trenches and a vast expanse
of meadow land, extending nearly to Bazeilles and along the river beyond
it, had been flooded, and the city was thus defended by a double wet
ditch for about three-fourths of its circumference. All this lay
external to the stone-faced ramparts, upon which stood heavy siege-guns,
ostensibly to protect the town. They were, in fact, obsolete dummies.
Outside these, again, were high earthworks, faced by strong palisades of
spiked timber. At the summit of the north-east corner of the
fortifications, towering above the plateau of Floing, rose the
Citadel,--a huge, dark mass of mason-work and grassy slopes, which
seemed to frown over a series of steep cliffs upon the town beneath.
Above this stood our hospital of the Caserne D'Asfeld, called after a
French Marshal of Louis XIV.'s time. The Prussians afterwards knew it as
the "Kronwerk D'Asfeld". It was a fortress which had a drawbridge and
defences of its own. From these details we may judge what a stronghold
Sedan would prove, were it not for the range of hills opposite, called
the Heights of Marfée. But these command the town; and the Prussians had
been permitted to occupy them.

Now, as to the Caserne itself. Standing on the highest point of the
fortifications, about 100 feet above the Meuse, it might have seemed the
very position for a hospital. It was a two-storied bomb-proof building,
with a flat roof, 240 feet long, and contained nine large wards,
fifty-three feet by seventeen, and ten feet high, as well as four small
ones with twenty beds in each. There were two spacious windows in every
ward. The floors were concrete. On the fortifications outside were rows
of magnificent trees, which gave the grounds a picturesque appearance.
But in front, facing the town, there were no trees; and from this point
we had an unbroken view of Sedan and the valley of the Meuse, with the
hills opposite. The villages of Donchery, Frénois, and Wadelincourt were
all visible.

Six cannon commanded the outer breastworks, behind the buildings, and
two sallyports led out beneath the fortifications, on to the plains of
Floing. We heard from the wounded, as well as from other sources, that
the French were retreating on Sedan, and that the Prussians held the
left bank of the Meuse, and the valley and hills about it. The French,
on their side, occupied the Illy heights to the north of the town above
the plateau of Floing, the Bois de Garenne, and the east and south-east
plains, from Daigny and the valley of Givonne to Bazeilles. Hence, it
was evident, even at so early a date, that the French army had only the
strip of small country to the north and east of Sedan, between the right
bank of the Meuse and the Ardennes, by which to make good their retreat
on Mézières. And of this narrow space, the defile of St. Albert alone
was available for the passage of large bodies of soldiers.

The Prussian outposts were already in Vendresse and Donchery. Could they
succeed in moving further north before the French started, they might
cut off the retreat of the whole army.

The movements of the French in these straits had been extremely
perplexing to us. They must have known their situation, if not on the
29th, certainly on the 30th and 31st. Why, then, did they not keep to
the left bank of the Meuse, and seize the only available strong position
visible on that side--the Heights of Marfée, which they could have held,
and the possession of which would have covered their retreat along the
defile of St. Albert? Instead of doing so, they chose to fall back on
Sedan; a trap out of which no sane man, military or civilian, could,
under the circumstances, expect an army to free itself. These positions
were occupied by the Prussians at the earliest possible moment. But even
if the French could not have come up by the left bank of the Meuse,
they might, as late as the night of the 31st, have retreated by
Moncelle, the plain of Floing, and the right bank of the river. Thus, at
all events, they would have got clear of the enemy's heavy guns, which
assailed them from the hills in front; and would have had some chance of
meeting their foes on more equal terms. But they went to their
destruction like men in a dream.

Late that evening, several large batches of wounded came into the
Caserne. These kept us employed till after midnight, when we slipped out
and ascended the fortifications, that we might look once more at the
still blazing village, the name of which we had not then heard. Of
course it was Douzy. And now we perceived, by the innumerable camp-fires
gleaming around us on all sides, that we were close to the ill-fated
army, of which Marshal MacMahon held the command. To-morrow it would
cease to exist, and with it the Napoleonic Empire would come to an end.

[Illustration:

    BATTLE OF SEDAN
    Positions at Daybreak
    Sept^r. 1^{st}. 1870.

    French                      | Germans
    A _12^{th} Corps (Lebrun_)  | G _Prussian Guards_
    B _1^{st}    " (Ducrot)_    | S _Saxons_
    C _5^{th}    " (Wimpffen)_  | Bav. _Bavarians_
    D _7^{th}    " (Doucey)_    | W _Wurtembergers_
    E _Cavalry_                 |

    _London, John Murray, Albemarle Street._
    E. Weller]




CHAPTER IV.

THE FIRST OF SEPTEMBER, 1870.--EXPERIENCES AT THE CASERNE.--WOUNDED
HORSES.--THE FRENCH RETREAT BECOMES A STAMPEDE.--SOLDIERS DESPAIR.


Full of strange forebodings, I retired to the guard-room at the end of
the building which overlooked the town, where Père Bayonne, our
Dominican chaplain, Hewitt, and myself had our stretchers. Tired out, I
slept as soundly as if nothing had happened, or was to happen. But about
a quarter to five on the following morning,--that historic Thursday, the
1st of September,--Père Bayonne and I were aroused by the strange and
terrible sound of roaring cannon. We heard the shells whizzing
continually, and by-and-by the prolonged peals of the mitrailleuse. On
looking out, we saw a thick mist lying along the valley, and clinging
about the slopes of the hills in front of us. Presently it cleared away;
the morning became beautifully fine, and the sun shone forth with genial
warmth.

Immediately beneath us lay the town, with its double fortifications, and
its trenches filled by the Meuse, which seemed a silver thread winding
through a charmingly wooded and delightful country. The whole range of
hills which commanded the town was occupied by the Prussians; and we
could see their artillery and battalions in dark blue, with their spiked
helmets and their bayonets flashing in the sunlight.

Neither had we long to wait before 150 guns were, each in its turn,
belching out fire and smoke. For the first couple of hours the heaviest
part of the fighting was kept up from the left and further extremity of
this range of hills. But as the morning wore on, the guns immediately
opposite us opened fire, although the main body of the Prussians had not
yet come up the valley into view. The plains and hills to the north and
north-east of the town and immediately behind us were covered with
French troops, the nearest being a regiment of the Line, a Zouave
regiment, and a force of cuirassiers. It was magnificent to see the
bright helmets and breast-plates of the latter gleaming in the sun, as
they swept along from time to time, and took up fresh positions. I
watched them suddenly wheel and gallop at a headlong pace for some
hundred yards, then stop as they were making a second wheel, and tear up
to the edge of a wood on a piece of high ground, where they remained
motionless. A regiment of the Line then advanced, and opened fire across
them, down into the valley beneath the wood; while for twenty minutes a
hot counter-fire was kept up by a force of advancing Prussians, the
French still moving forward, and leaving plenty of work for us in their
rear. As the firing ceased, the cuirassiers, who had been up till then
motionless spectators of the scene, suddenly began to move, first at a
walk, then breaking into a trot, and, finally, having cleared the corner
of the wood, into full gallop. They dashed down the valley of Floing and
were quickly lost to our view. This was the beginning, as I afterwards
learned, of one of the most brilliant feats of the French arms during
that day. It has been graphically described by Dr. Russell, the war
correspondent of the _Times_. Beyond doubt, until noon, when all chance
of success vanished, the French fought bravely. I shall here instance
one out of many personal feats of valour, which came under our notice.

While I was assisting in dressing a wounded soldier, he told me the
following story, which was subsequently corroborated by one of his
officers who came to see him. This soldier was St. Aubin, of the Third
Chasseurs d'Afrique, concerning whom I shall have more to say by-and-by.
He was only twenty-three, and a tall, fair, handsome fellow. He had been
in action for seven hours, and had received a bayonet thrust through the
cheek. His horse was shot under him during the flight of the French
towards Sedan. Still undismayed, he provided himself with one of the
chassepots lying about, and falling in with a body of Marines, the best
men in the French army, he, in company with this gallant band, faced the
enemy again. Numbers of his companions fell; he himself got a bullet
through the right elbow. Promptly tearing his pocket handkerchief into
strips with his teeth, he tied up his wounds, and securing his wrist to
his belt, seized his sword, determined to fight on. Unfortunately, the
fragment of a shell struck him again, shattering the right shoulder. In
this plight he mounted a stray horse, and, as he told me, holding his
sword in his teeth, put spurs to his steed, and joined his companions at
Sedan, where he sank out of the saddle through sheer exhaustion and loss
of blood.

Early in the day vigorous fighting was going on outside the town, about
Balan and Bazeilles, and between us and the Belgian frontier. As early
as ten o'clock, it was evident that the Prussians were extending their
line of fire on both sides, with the ultimate object of hemming in the
French army, now being slowly forced back upon the town. By eleven
o'clock, the plains to the north and east between us and the Belgian
frontier were occupied by dense masses of the French; and at noon, the
Prussian artillery on the hills in front turned their fire over our
heads, on the French troops behind us. From this moment, we found
ourselves in the thick of the fight. Around us on every side raged a
fierce and bloody conflict. The Prussian guns in front, which had kept
up an intermittent fire since early morning, now seemed to act in
concert, and the roaring of cannon and whizzing of shells became
continuous. It was an appalling medley of sounds; and we could scarcely
hear one another speak.

During this murderous fire, we received into our hospital twenty-eight
officers of all grades (among them two colonels), and nearly 400 men of
all arms. Occasionally, one of the shells which were passing over us in
quick succession would fall short, striking, at one time, the roof of
our Hospital or the stone battlements in front, at another the
earthworks or a tree within the fort. One of these shells burst at the
main entrance, close to where I was at work, killing two _infirmiers_
and wounding a third,--the first two were, indeed, reduced to a mass of
charred flesh, a sight of unspeakable horror. A second shell burst close
to the window of the ward, in which Drs. MacCormac, Nicholl, Tilghman,
and May were operating, chipping off a fragment of the corner stone; a
third struck the coping wall of the fortification overhanging the town,
about twenty feet from our mess-room window; and a fragment entered, and
made a hole in the ceiling. The bomb-proof over our heads came in for a
shower of French mitrailleuse bullets, which so frightened our cook that
he upset a can of savoury horseflesh soup, which he had prepared for us.
But, to add to the danger, about half-past two a detachment of
artillery, bringing with them three brass nine-pounders, came into our
enclosure (for, as I have said, the guns supposed to be guarding our
fort were absolute dummies), and opened a hot fire on the enemy, in the
vain attempt to enable Ducrot's contingent to join De Wimpffen at Balan.
It was a brave and determined effort, but as futile as it was rash, for
it brought the Prussian fire down upon us; and in less than half an
hour, the French had to abandon their guns, which were soon dismantled,
while the trenches about them were filled with dead and wounded. At one
time, Dr. May and I counted on the plain a rank of eighty-five dead
horses, exclusive of the maimed. The sufferings of these poor brutes,
which were as a rule frightfully mutilated, seemed to call for pity
almost as much as those of the men themselves. For the men, if wounded
very badly, lay still, and their wants were quickly attended to; but the
horses, sometimes disembowelled, their limbs shattered, kept wildly
struggling and snorting beneath dismounted gun-carriages and upturned
ammunition waggons, until either a friendly revolver or death from
exhaustion put an end to their torment.

Everywhere on this plain, to the north of the town, there was now the
most hopeless confusion. The soldiers, utterly demoralised--more than
half of them without arms--were hugging the ramparts in dense masses,
seeking thus to escape the deadly fire directed on them by the advancing
Prussians. It was clear that the fortunes of the day were going against
the French; and if we ask the reason, some reply may be found in the
testimony of a Colonel, who told us, with sobs and tears, that for six
hours he had been under fire, and had received no orders from his
General. A little later on, about half-past three, an officer, carrying
the colours of his regiment, rushed into our Hospital in a state of the
wildest excitement, crying out that the French had lost, and entreating
Dr. May to hide his flag in one of our beds,--a request with which the
latter indignantly refused to comply.

About a quarter to four, although the din of battle was still raging, we
could see the white flag flying, and rumours of a truce were current.
The space round the Caserne D'Asfeld was at this time crowded with
troops; and a knot of them were wrangling for water about our well,
which, being worked only by a windlass and bucket, gave but a scanty
supply. The events that now followed have been described by the French
as an attempt on the part of Ducrot to get his forces through the town,
and out by the Balan gate, there to reinforce General Wimpffen, and
sustain his final attempt to break through the German lines. But what
really happened was this: The French, aware that the battle was lost,
had become panic-stricken, and getting completely out of the control of
their officers, their retreat on Sedan was, in plain truth, the stampede
of a thoroughly disorganised and routed army. It was a strange sight,
and by no means easy to picture. A huge and miscellaneous collection of
men, horses, and materials were jammed into a comparatively small space,
all in the utmost disorder and confusion. Soldiers of every
branch--cavalry, infantry, artillery--flung away their arms, or left
them at different places, in stacks four or five feet high. Heedless of
command, they made for the town by every available entrance. And I saw
French officers shedding tears at a spectacle, which no one who was not
in arms against them could witness without grief and shame.

A Colonel, who had carried his eagles with honour through the battles of
Wörth and Weissenburg, related how he had buried the standard of his
regiment, together with his own decorations, and burned his colours, to
save them from falling into the hands of the enemy. All these officers
had but one cry: "_Nous sommes trahis!_" openly declaring that the loss
of their country, and the dishonour of its arms, were due to the perfidy
and incompetence of their statesmen and generals. That some of these
allegations of treason were well founded is beyond question: the
universal incompetency we saw with our own eyes.

I observed one remarkable incident during this state of general
disorder. A regiment of Turcos came into our enclosure with their
officers, in perfect order, fully armed and accoutred. These
gaunt-looking fellows, fierce, bronzed, and of splendid physique, stood
stolid and silent, with their cloaks, hoods, and gaiters still
beautifully white. Watching for some minutes, I noticed a movement among
them, and they commenced a passionate discussion in their own tongue,
evidently on a subject of interest to them all. In another minute the
conclusion was manifest. Approaching the parapet in small parties, and
clubbing their rifles, they smashed off the stocks against the
stonework, and flung the pieces into the ditch beneath. In like manner
they disposed of their heavy pistols and side-arms. Then, having lighted
their cigarettes, they relapsed into a state of silent and dreamy
inactivity, in which not a word was spoken.

Along the roads leading to the gates of the town, more particularly
along the one beneath us, streamed a dense mass of soldiers belonging to
various regiments, with numbers of horses ridden chiefly by officers,
and some waggons, all bearing headlong down on the gates. As they passed
over the narrow bridges, literally in tens of thousands, packed close
together, some horses and a few men were pushed over the low parapet
into the river, and many of the fugitives were trodden under foot. At
length, between four and five P.M., the firing gradually slackened. For
some time it was still kept up, but in a desultory manner, towards
Balan. At half-past five it ceased altogether; and the sensation of
relief was indescribable.

The grounds about the Caserne D'Asfeld had, in the meanwhile, become
packed with runaway soldiers, whose first exploit was forcibly to enter
our kitchen and store-rooms, and plunder all they could lay hands on. Of
course, they were driven to these acts by the exigencies of the
situation. The blame for such excesses cannot but attach to that centre
of all corruption, the French Commissariat, which broke down that day as
it had done at every turn during the whole campaign. We had some wounded
men in the theatre, Place de Turenne, down in Sedan; but the streets and
squares were so densely crowded that it was with difficulty some of our
staff could make their way to them. All were now burning with anxiety to
know whether the French would surrender, or hostilities be resumed on
the morrow. A continuance of the struggle, as we felt, would mean that
some hundred and twenty thousand soldiers, and ourselves along with
them, were to be buried in the ruins of Sedan.

Our fears, however, were soon allayed. Before nightfall we heard that
the Emperor had opened negotiations with the German King, and that the
capitulation was certain.

At last darkness set in. The stillness of the night was unbroken, save
for a musical humming sound as if from a mighty hive of bees;--it was
the murmur of voices resounding from the hundred thousand men caged
within the beleaguered city. As we stood for a moment on the
battlements, sniffing the cool air, with which was still intermingled
the gruesome odour of the battlefield, how impressive a sight met our
gaze! Bazeilles was burning; its flames lit up the sky brilliantly, and
brought out into clear relief the hills and valleys for miles around;
they even threw a red glare over Sedan itself; while above the site of
the burning village there seemed to dance one great pillar of fire, from
which tongues shot out quivering and rocketing into the atmosphere, as
house after house burst into flames.

The number of Frenchmen wounded during those few hours of which I write,
is said to have been 12,500. Probably a third of that figure would
represent the number of Prussian casualties. As for our own ambulance,
during that day it afforded surgical aid to 100 officers and 524 men.
The number of those killed will never be known; all I can state is, that
in places the French were mown down before our eyes like grass. There is
a thicket on a lonely hill side, skirting the Bois de Garenne, within
rifleshot of the Caserne D'Asfeld, where six and thirty men fell close
together. There they were buried in one common grave; and few besides
myself remain to tell the tale.

Such is the story of Sedan as I beheld it, and as faithful a record as I
can give from my own experience, of that never-to-be-forgotten 1st of
September, 1870.




CHAPTER V.

THE BURNING OF BAZEILLES.--WORTHLESS FRENCH OFFICERS.--A WALK ABOUT
SEDAN.--IN THE VALLEY.


To our labours in the Hospitals I shall presently return. On the 31st,
Drs. Frank and Blewitt had established a branch hospital at Balan, and
during that day and 1st September, had rendered assistance, both there
and at Bazeilles, to those who were wounded in the street-fighting or
injured by the flames. Dr. Blewitt informed me that at one time, the
house in which they were treating a large number of wounded had its
windows and doors so riddled with bullets, that, in order to escape with
their lives, they had to lie down on the floor, and remain there until
the leaden shower was over. The French inhabitants also, he said, had
fired upon the Bavarians; they had set their bedding and furniture
alight, and thrown them out on the heads of the Germans, who were packed
close in the streets; and after the first repulse of the invaders,
several wounded Prussians had been barbarously butchered, some even
(horrible to relate) had had their throats cut with razors. This, it
was reported, had been the work of French women. On the other hand,
several of the native soldiers had been found propped up against the
walls in a sitting posture, with pipes and flowers in their mouths. Upon
retaking the village, when the Germans discovered what had been done,
they retaliated by shooting down and bayoneting all before them, nor in
some instances did the women and children escape this cruel fate. So
exasperated, indeed, were the Germans by the events of those two
dreadful hours on the 1st, that not a life did they spare, nor a house
did they leave intact, in that miserable town.

Such, in brief, was the history of Bazeilles. It is not a subject which
one can dwell upon. When, within a day or two later, I had occasion to
pass through it, and saw the still burning ruins which bore witness to
the awful deeds done on both sides, my heart sank. All that fire and
sword could wreak upon any town and its inhabitants was visible here;
and it is not too much to affirm that, so long as the name of Bazeilles
is remembered, a stain will rest on the memory of French and Germans,
both of whom contributed to its ruin.

On the 5th September Dr. Frank took possession of the Château Mouville,
which belonged to the Count de Fienne. It is situated between Balan and
Bazeilles, and was quickly filled with wounded from both places. But
for some time our ambulance was unable to get its waggons through the
streets, so impeded were they with the charred remains of the dead and
dying.

I have now described what I can vouch for, on the testimony of some of
my companions, as having occurred at these two places; and I will leave
my own account of what I saw myself in Bazeilles until a later occasion.

To go back to Sedan. As night drew near, the refugees outside the
Caserne lighted their fires, and put up their tents. Those who had no
tents rolled themselves in their cloaks, and lay down just where they
happened to be. All were overcome by fatigue, long marches, and want of
food and sleep; they seemed only too glad to rest anywhere, and to enjoy
a respite from the sufferings and hardships which during so many days
had weighed upon them.

The true story of these unhappy soldiers will never become known in
detail; and if it did, the public would hardly believe it. Many of them
started, as I heard from their own lips, with only two-thirds of the kit
they were booked as having received. In some instances their second pair
of boots were wanting; or, if not, the pair supplied had thick brown
paper soles covered with leather, and were often a misfit. The men, as
we read with perfect accuracy in _La Débâcle_, were marched and
countermarched to no purpose; they received contradictory orders; and I
learned from their statements, that neither general officers nor
subalterns knew whither they were going; and that one corps was
constantly getting foul of the other, simply from not being acquainted
with the map of the district in which they found themselves. More than
one declared to me that their officers were _officiers de salon;_ they
were _canaille_, said the men, who when under fire were the first to
seek shelter, and from their position of security to cry "_En avant, mes
braves!_" In fact, the common soldiers felt and expressed the heartiest
contempt for them. Of this I had abundant evidence. It was enough to see
how the rank and file came into the cafés and sat down beside the
officers of their own regiment, as I have seen them do, taking hardly
any notice of them, or deigning them only the lamest of salutes. On the
other hand, when officers came into a café (which they did upon every
possible occasion), the men would pretend not to see them. I have
observed, not once, but scores of times, captains of the Line, wearing
decorations, seated in taverns drinking beer and absinthe with the
common soldiers. They were as despicable in their familiarities as in
their want of courage; and who can be surprised if their men did not
respect them, or wonder that such leaders had no control over the
privates when in action?

As I mentioned before, we treated a number of officers of high grade
who were wounded on the 1st. They, in their turn, did not hesitate to
show how small was the confidence which they reposed in the grades above
them, by insisting that they had been sold and betrayed. They had
received no orders; and the generals of division had failed to make
their different marches in the appointed time, and to bring up their
commissariat, because their movements were hampered by the Emperor and
his staff, with their infinite baggage and useless attendants.
Statements such as these, together with what I witnessed myself,
convinced me in a very short time that it was not the soldiers of France
who were wanting in courage and endurance, but their officers who were
thoroughly incompetent, and their commissariat and whole military
organisation, which was rotten to the core.

But to my Hospital. As I walked around the building the sight was
picturesque and very human,--the camp fires showing all the ground
strewn beneath the great trees with jaded sleepers. Entering by one of
the doors, I stumbled against something, which turned out to be a
slumbering Turco. The fellow yelled out words quite unintelligible to
me, and rolled over, without giving himself any more trouble, out of my
way. The medical staff now retired, and attacked what bread, meat, and
soup had been saved from the depredators of our larder that morning;
after which we resumed work once more. We were kept at it the whole of
that night, the following day, and some hours of the night after that,
without intermission. During the whole of the next day we were engaged
in receiving and conveying wounded men from the cottages and farmsteads
scattered over the plains at Illy and Floing, all of which were crammed
with disabled combatants. My duty in the Caserne was to dress the
lightly wounded, and assist at the operation table until the afternoon,
when I was desired by our kind and considerate chief to take four hours
off duty, and get some sleep.

Instead, however, of taking this rest, which no doubt one required, I
sallied forth with F. Hayden on an expedition into the town, to the
Croix d'Or, where I had left something on the 31st, which I thought I
might recover. We found it hard to get out of our own enclosure; and
even on the steep path leading to the town, men were lying asleep, while
others roamed about in search of food. But when we got into Sedan, the
streets were thronged with soldiers. At several corners we stopped to
see men who were hacking and hewing the carcases of horses, which they
had just killed. Hungry crowds surrounded them, many of whom were
munching the lumps of raw meat, which they had secured, without waiting
to have it cooked; and in the Place de Turenne lay the bloody skeletons
of two horses, from which every particle of flesh had been cut away.
Here, as our cook, "nigger Charlie," assured me, was the source of my
morning's meal, which I had washed down with brandy, and thoroughly
relished. I may be pardoned for turning quickly from the revolting
scene.

Finding that it was impossible to proceed, we retraced our steps to the
Caserne, and, making our exit this time through one of the sallyports,
went over the scene, at least in part, of yesterday's battle.

It was a beautiful autumn evening, and the sun shone bright. Butterflies
flitted to and fro, and myriads of insects danced in the light as if for
a wager. Just as we were walking along the entrenchments outside, we
very nearly met with an inglorious end from a shower, not of bullets,
but of _pistols_, which came over the battlements, and continued falling
at intervals. On looking up, I perceived, standing on a projecting
angle, a stalwart Turco, who made signs that I should keep in close to
the parapet, which I did. This friendly fellow persuaded his comrades to
desist for a little, and thus enabled us to retreat.

On getting clear of the ramparts, we found ourselves north of the town,
with the Bois de Garenne crowning the heights in front, and the valley
of Floing sloping away to our left. But the plateau which yesterday
swarmed with a surging mass of soldiers in conflict with the enemy, and
upon which we had seen the Cuirassiers and Chasseurs d'Afrique, at the
sound of the trumpet, tear headlong in their mad career to death,--was
now hushed, and presented a field of such horrors as are not to be
described.

The burying parties had been hard at work for hours, but still the dead
lay scattered about on every side:--here singly, there in twos and
threes,--and again, in groups huddled together, which had been mown down
where they stood, by the same missile. Their features in some instances
were contorted and dreadful to behold,--some with portions of their
skulls and faces blown away, whilst what was left of their features
remained unchanged; others with their chests torn open and bowels
protruding; others, again, mangled and dismembered. The larger number
lay either on their backs or faces, without any apparent indication of
the nature of their death-wound. And some there were who had received
the first aid of surgical treatment, and died in the positions in which
they had been placed.

Lower down the valley the corpses in red and blue, and the ranks of dead
horses, the broken spears and sabres, and the bent scabbards, spoke
silently but forcibly of the fury of that historic encounter. When one
looked along the plain for about half a mile on each side, one saw that
now deserted battlefield strewn as far as the eye could reach with
guns, and ammunition, and upturned waggons. There were carriages, and
dead horses by the side of them; firearms of every kind, in places
stacked several feet high, and knapsacks innumerable; caps, helmets,
belts, plumes, shakos, spurs, and boots, and every description
imaginable of military accoutrements. We remarked, besides, all manner
of articles--sponges, brushes, letters, pocket-books, soldiers'
regimental books, band-music, tin boxes various in size, and showing the
most diverse contents, others empty and their former contents scattered
about; as also nets for hay, saddles, saddle-trappings, whips, bridles,
bits, drums, portions of band instruments, and, in fact, as many
descriptions of objects great and small as would furnish an immense
bazaar.

In one place I found a chassepot inverted together with a bayonet, set
at the head of a French soldier's grave, and a cavalry sword which lay
unsheathed beside its owner, who, still unburied, gazed vacantly in
front of him with a glassy stare, whilst the flies swarmed about his
half-opened mouth. The only indication of how he met his death was a
small patch of blood-stained earth beside him--not red, but tarry-black.
Near at hand, also, lay, covered with blood, a bit and bridle, without
anything to betoken how it came there.

The dismal monotony of the scene was relieved only by those little
mounds of fresh earth scattered here and there, which marked where the
bodies of the slain, varying from one to ten in each place of sepulture,
had been consigned. Burials were still going on before our eyes.

Over many of the graves were set up rustic crosses, made with two pieces
of wood tied together, or more frequently devices in arms.

Silent as the prospect lay in front of us, its mournful stillness was
occasionally broken by the neighing and scampering of bands of horses,
still uncaptured, which were wandering in a fruitless search for food
and water. As they looked wildly round with their nostrils
distended,--some with just sufficient trappings left to indicate the
military status of their former masters,--one could almost think that,
still unconquered, they sought their comrades and the fray.

In my ramble I passed through several gardens and orchards skirting the
Bois de Garenne. It was pitiful to see their condition. The trees were
utterly ruined, and their branches all broken; the flower beds were
ploughed up by the bursting of shells, and the houses had become mere
wrecks. Through some of them these missiles had made a clean breach.
Further on to the right, there had been a pretty little cemetery,
planted with yew trees, evergreens, and flowers, which had many small
monuments in marble and cut stone; but these, for the most part, were
broken or disfigured, and the iron railings and the shrubs around them
had been torn down.

As I walked through, I paused for a moment to look upon the two
graveyards,--the one with a history of centuries, judging from its many
ancient tombs,--the other of yesterday's making--its only monuments the
little mounds of fresh earth, over which, a few months hence, the green
corn of spring would be waving, to obliterate the record of to-day's
ghastly scene.

Hastening from this melancholy spot, I passed several burying parties.
The ceremonies which they used were rude and scant enough; for all they
did was to heave the body into the newly-made grave, and heap the earth
over it in silence.

Next we ascended the tree-crested height above the plateau of Floing,
where we had seen the cavalry massed on the morning before. We first
entered the wood. It was intersected by walks which led to an
observatory and a Château in the centre. Here, as everywhere else,
disorder reigned. One might easily have conceived that an army had been
annihilated in the act of preparing their toilet: for all things
belonging to a soldier, from his full-dress uniform to his linen and
boots, were scattered about in all directions. Rifles and arms of all
sorts were cast away in hundreds. The brushwood in many parts was very
thick; but even in the midst of almost impenetrable scrub we found arms
and accoutrements in abundance. More than once we came upon the corpses
of French soldiers, who lay as if asleep. They had probably dragged
themselves from the scene of carnage to this lonely spot, and there
expired, unmolested.

At one place in particular the underwood was so thick, that I had to
crouch down in order to get through it. My attention was drawn thither
by the signs of a path having been forced in that direction. A little
further in, I found an open space of a few yards square, which was now
occupied by a grave. It had no device upon it, except a cross scratched
in the red clay. Lying beside it, I found a piece of shell, a religious
picture, a prayer-book, and fragments of a uniform, which I still have
by me. I fancy some kind comrade had paid his friend a last tribute, by
giving him, as it were, a special burial in a place to himself.

In order to reach the building in the centre of the wood, I had to pass
through a little garden, whose only flowers seemed to be rows of
dahlias, of every colour and description. Among these the shells had
made havoc. In one bed, I remarked a deep hole where a shell had fallen,
and some of the plants had been lifted several feet away. In other
places, furrows of some yards in length were made by shot and shell, as
if a plough had worked intermittently here and there. Some were deep,
others just skimmed the surface and ran a zigzag course, as if a
gigantic animal had been turning up the ground with his muzzle. The
building, into which I made my way, seemed to be an observatory or
pavilion, belonging to the Château, which stood some distance behind.
Its doors and wood-work were riddled with bullets, and the roof was
blown away. There, curiously enough, a large quantity of music was
strewn about. Under cover of this wood, the Bois de Garenne, we had seen
the French massing their troops; and they had evidently been lying here
in ambush when the Prussians detected and shelled them, before the final
rout, during which they abandoned their arms and ammunition. Down the
slope of the hill, and in the bottom of the valley facing the Meuse,
dead men and horses, with groups of hastily-dug graves,--many of them
German,--and broken spears, and numbers of unsheathed cavalry swords,
told the same tale of a death struggle in which hundreds must have
perished.

Further along the valley, beside a lonely thicket, was a large mound
with a stake driven into it, and an inscription in German characters,
made with some material which looked like blacking, "Here lie thirty-six
men of the 5th corps". Who shall reckon the number of French dead in the
many graves adjacent?

As my time was up, I now hastened back to my post, feeling like one who
had awakened from a terrible nightmare. Yet I was much invigorated by
this expedition, so mournful in its circumstances, and went to work with
renewed energy.

On the evening of the 3rd, word was brought us that some of the wounded
lay in a bad way in a cottage outside Balan. Dr. MacCormac, accompanied
by Dr. Hewitt and myself, at once proceeded through the town and along
the high road, which we followed only for a short distance. Then we
struck out to the left until we arrived at a small wood, where certain
of the French troops were still encamped, but as prisoners.

The night was fine, and would have been pitch dark had not the camp
fires shone around numerous and bright. When we came to the house in
question, Dr. MacCormac performed several amputations, at which Hewitt
and I assisted. In a couple of hours we started again for home, but
being both hungry and thirsty, turned aside into a little cottage, where
we told the poor woman in occupation that we had been attending the
wounded, and had had nothing to eat all day. We were willing to pay for
anything she could give us. At first she looked at us sternly; but when
we told her on which side we had been engaged, she melted, and received
us with a welcome, which, if not effusive, was, under the circumstances,
cordial.

Out of her larder she offered us bread, and a quantity of what she
informed us was beef. We could not be particular; and it was not without
enjoyment that we made our doubtful, but much needed supper on her
viands. No further incident delayed our return to the Caserne D'Asfeld.




CHAPTER VI.

WORK IN THE HOSPITAL.--THE ISLE OF IGES.--MY ARAB HORSE.--PRISONERS SENT
INTO GERMANY.


I do not intend entering here into full details of our work during this
eventful period. But, to give unprofessional readers some idea of its
nature and extent, I may state, that after the battles of August 31st,
and 1st September, we had 72 amputations of upper and lower extremities,
the great majority of which operations were performed by Dr. MacCormac.
Besides these, there were scores of equal magnitude--ligatures of
arteries of the neck, arm, and thigh,--and a host of operations, which,
in comparison, are usually termed minor, most of which, especially when
very serious, were accomplished by the same skilful hand. After the
hurry and rush of the first few days, we adopted a general routine of
work, and divided the number of wounded equally among the staff of
surgeons and assistants. We were eighteen, all told. Dr. Marion Sims was
our head, Dr. MacCormac our chief operator, Dr. Webb our _comptable_,
and Mr. Harry Sims our storekeeper. As I stated before, Drs. Frank and
Blewitt managed a branch hospital in the Château Mouville, where they
rendered to the victims of fire, sword, shot, and shell, of bullet and
bayonet, the most signal assistance at the imminent peril of their
lives.

Thus for our three hundred and eighty wounded at the Caserne D'Asfeld we
had but twelve men, six being surgeons, and six assistants and
_sous-aides_; so that the number of wounded which fell to the share of
each surgeon and his assistant was sixty-three. Almost every case
occupying a bed in the hospital was of a serious nature, such as to
require much time and care in dressing it daily. But, besides, we had to
dress the lightly wounded who came to our hospital for inspection, and
who were quartered in the town wherever they could find room. The work
was simply enormous. We rose at six and breakfasted at half-past seven
upon horseflesh soup, or coffee and condensed milk (Mallow brand) with
musty bread, for our special supply of provisions was exhausted, and
neither bread nor beef could be obtained at any price. The duties to
which we then applied ourselves are easily imaginable; they included the
setting of fractures, extracting of bullets, ligaturing arteries,
resecting bones and joints, and assisting at the operation table. This
last was frequently my province. I was under Dr. May, an experienced
American surgeon, who, as I have mentioned earlier, had served in the
Confederate Army. No one could be more considerate. We worked most
agreeably together, and soon were the best of friends.

During the press of the first few days, we juniors had lots of bullets
to extract and plenty of minor surgery; for although we were not
supposed to perform any operation, yet under the strain of necessity we
could not but often neglect this otherwise wholesome arrangement. Every
day numberless operations were gone through, at which we assisted in
turn; and thus had what we sometimes thought more than enough of
practical surgery. I spare the reader details; yet only perhaps by such
ghastly touches as are here omitted, can the nature and ravages of war
be truly described.

At one o'clock the meal which we took resembled our breakfast, with the
addition of a little brandy; then we fell to work again, sometimes not
giving over until six, when we had supper, which was a repetition of our
other meals,--coffee or horseflesh soup, and sometimes horseflesh with
black bread and brandy. Then each took his turn of night duty. It was
very important to keep strict watch on the infirmarians, all soldiers
under the direction of a sergeant who remained in the guard-room when on
duty. We still owed allegiance to the French, and were nominally under
the Intendant Militaire, M. Bilotte. This gentleman paid us a daily
visit, and laid under requisition all the provisions he could get in the
neighbourhood, which was not much, considering that the presence of
200,000 men had involved the consumption of every particle of food in
the town and the surrounding villages.

Being junior member of the Ambulance Staff, I came first on night duty
and took my position on a stretcher in the guard-room, where it was all
I could do to keep myself awake. My eyes would close in spite of
resolution, and I sometimes awoke just in time to escape a reprimand
when Dr. Marion Sims came round at midnight to make his inspection. As a
veteran in the American War he kept the strictest discipline, and
occasionally made our blood run cold by a description of the penalties
inflicted during that lively time for the smallest dereliction of duty.
However, except that a dozen or so of poor sufferers required morphia to
tranquillise them, nothing occurred until the small hours of the
morning, when it struck me that some of the _infirmiers_ might be, like
myself, inclined to doze. Accordingly, I went round and looked them up.

All were stirring, except the infirmarians of wards 2 and 5, who were
stretched out, one on a bench, another on the ground, fast asleep. I
kicked them up to attention, and left them certainly more frightened
than hurt. On my reporting the matter, as I was bound, next morning, the
sleepy delinquents were put in the cells for twenty-four hours.

Later on, one of them had twice as much punishment for the same offence.
Poor fellows, I could not really blame them.

A source of disturbance during the night was the droves of loose horses,
principally Arabs, that kept neighing and pawing the pavement outside
the building, in their endeavour to reach the water which was stored in
buckets near the open windows. Every night, as their thirst increased,
they became more frantic; and during the daytime they came in dozens,
drawn by the scent of water, all the while kicking each other furiously.
Some had bridles, some mere fragments of their trappings, and the rest
had got quit of all their furniture. It was novel to see these chargers
careering about in demi-toilette. In a few days, however, all the
wounded animals, now become useless, were shot; the others were brought
together--chiefly by the sound of the trumpet, to which they quickly
answered--and were picketed in the valley beyond the Meuse and above
Donchery.

One morning Hayden and I made an expedition, and secured two of them.
Mine was a fine chestnut Arab, which I kept tied to a tree in our
enclosure, while one of my _infirmiers_ contrived to get fodder for him
outside the ramparts, in addition to what I could procure myself from
the ambulance stores. Mounted on our captures, Hayden and I used
occasionally to explore the country during our hours off duty.
Afterwards, when leaving Sedan, we turned them out again upon the
plains, where, doubtless, they enjoyed a short-lived freedom. Some of
the unsound horses, which the Prussians did not require, they sold for a
trifle to the inhabitants. I saw a remarkably useful pair of horses,
apparently sound and in good condition, which were sold by auction in
the Place de Turenne for twelve francs, that is to say, ten shillings
the pair. But we must bear in mind that, with a little vigilance, and by
evading the Prussian pickets, horses might then be had on the plains for
the trouble of catching them.

What had become, meanwhile, of the defeated and entrapped army of
prisoners? After much trouble, their officers had got together all that
remained of the regiments, and had sent in a return of their strength to
the Prussians. For three days our enclosure was not clear of them. One
afternoon, when the prisoners had been shut up into their Island "Park,"
the Isle d'Iges, Hayden and I paid them a visit. It was a melancholy
sight. That imposing army, which included the best soldiers of France,
had been marched ignominiously, though 85,000 strong, out of Sedan, and
penned like sheep in this island, formed by a bend in the Meuse. There
they were kept in view by Prussian sentinels and mounted pickets. We
passed the guard without difficulty, for there was no prohibition
against Red Cross medical men entering the camp. In addition to the
French rank and file, those officers who refused to take the parole were
confined upon the island. We saw them to be in a miserable plight, the
mud up to their ankles, and their clothing scanty and torn. Many had
lost everything and were wholly without kits. The rain, which had
succeeded to that brilliant sunshine of the 1st, had now been coming
down in torrents for twelve hours, and was drenching them to the skin;
for their tent-accommodation was altogether insufficient, and failed to
shelter them. Men and officers alike looked miserable.

This open-air prison, I have said, was formed partly by a bend of the
Meuse, and partly by a broad, deep, and impassable canal. Within such
narrow limits we observed the captives, who were walking up and down in
batches, trying to get a little warmth. Some endeavoured to light a
fire--no easy task with wet sticks--others were making coffee, or busied
themselves in cutting timber to throw on their smoking branches. Their
food was a scanty supply of bread and coffee, served out every two days;
and for this there was quite a scramble, which ended in many failing to
secure more than enough for a single meal. Thus they were condemned to
starve until the next supply was served out. We may well ask how such a
multitude could exist during those weary days, at the mercy of the
weather, and in a sea of filth. But many died, and the sufferings of
the rest were deplorable. These poor fellows told us that hundreds of
them were victims of dysentery, and begged us to give them such opiates
or astringents as we might have about us. Unfortunately, we could do but
little under the circumstances.

Whilst I was speaking with a knot of soldiers, my friend fell into
conversation with a captain of the line, M. le Marquis de ----, of the
4th Chasseurs d'Afrique. He, too, was suffering from the effects of wet
and exposure. Hayden, with that generosity for which he was remarkable,
promised to come the next day, and to bring all the medicine required.
In return, the captain pressed upon him a fine grey Arab, with bridle
and saddle, which Hayden accepted, but could not take away then, for the
guard would not have passed him out. However, when he came the day
after, with a plentiful supply of medicaments and brandy, he rode an old
grey _garron_ which he had picked up somewhere, and on his departure
went off with the captain's beautiful mount;--a change of steeds that
the Prussian did not trouble to remark.

Every day we saw from our quarters regiment after regiment bundled off
(there is no other word for it) into Germany. As we watched the whole
French army slouching away to the sound of Prussian music, I confess
that some of us had strong language on our lips and still stronger
feelings in our hearts at the shameful sight. We anathematised the
enemy, who now seemed to be pursuing their advantage so unrelentingly.

Yet, candour compels me to add, that when I looked at the Prussian
sentinels guarding our gates and pacing our ramparts, I could not help
admiring their stern, yet frank and honest countenances, and their
stalwart physique. A notable contrast, indeed, they presented to the
stunted, nervous-looking, and worn-out French soldiers, who, however, it
is only fair to add, were suffering from the effects of long exposure
and privation, and whom we had seen at their worst. Still, there was a
difference in the men themselves which no one with eyes in his head
could fail to observe. What was the explanation of it? He that can reply
to this question as the truth demands, and he alone, will explain why
the French campaigns of 1870 and 1871 were such a dismal series of
misfortunes. The break-down of the Commissariat, the peculation in high
quarters, the confused plans, and the military disorder must be ascribed
to causes which were long in action before the French entered on their
struggle with the Fatherland. I am convinced that those causes were
moral and intellectual; and that they still exist. The future of France
will depend on how the nation deals with them.




CHAPTER VII.

MORE WOUNDED.--SIGHTS AFTER THE BATTLE.--A COUNTRY RAMBLE.--HEAVY
HOSPITAL TASKS.--L'EAU DE ZOUAVE.


Every day Sedan became more and more crowded with the soldiers who were
hurt; and on the 12th we found ourselves so much pressed for room that
we had to put up thirty-six auxiliary tents, which, for this humane
purpose, we had stolen from the French.

The first contingent arrived from the neighbourhood of Bazeilles. When
they came in we saw that the poor fellows were in a bad way, many still
groaning from the pain of their wounds, which had been much increased by
their being jolted about in waggons, with only a scanty supply of straw
beneath them. Some had fractured limbs; others had undergone severe
surgical treatment, such as amputations; and these latter suffered
inexpressible torture.

All were craving for food and water, neither of which had been given to
them during many hours. Some, altogether exhausted, died on the night of
their arrival. One detachment of the sufferers had been allotted to Dr.
May and myself; and I heard from a soldier that he, and a number of his
companions, several of whom had lost their legs, were permitted to
remain on their backs upon a little straw for whole days, in a deserted
farmhouse outside Givonne. Their dressings had neither been removed nor
changed; they had had only water to drink, and a small quantity of musty
black bread to eat.

Another suffered from a terrible bed-sore, which arose in the same way.

But what was our surprise, when, on the following day, the Germans sent
us up from the town 130 French wounded, to make room for their own in
Sedan! They had them conveyed on stretchers; and, as it happened to be a
pouring wet day, the unhappy men arrived in their new quarters drenched
to the skin and shivering with cold, for many of them had nothing but a
light shoddy American blanket to cover them or their tarpaulin.

These new comers, the victims of neglect, exposure, and overcrowding,
became soon the victims also of fever, secondary hemorrhage, dysentery,
pyæmia, and hospital gangrene. It cannot be surprising that they died
every day by the dozen. One morning, in particular, I call to mind that
there had been fourteen deaths during the night.

Whether it was that the Germans had more wounded of their own than they
could conveniently attend to,--which I believe was the case,--and were
therefore unable to look after the French wounded, or that they were
unwilling to do so, I cannot tell, but I know, from personal
observation, that large numbers of French soldiers died from the neglect
which they had undergone previous to entering our hospitals.

I am aware that the Germans have been blamed, on more than one occasion,
for the fearfully neglected state of the French wounded in the districts
occupied by them. But I think the true explanation may be found, first
and foremost, in the great desire which the peasants had to convert
their houses into ambulances, outside of which they could hang the Red
Cross flag. Thereby, they exempted themselves from having the invaders
billeted on them. But also, it was owing to the reluctance which these
same peasants felt at parting with their wounded, which would have put
an end to their own immunity. Furthermore, we must take into our account
the undoubted fact that the Prussians were themselves anxious to leave
them with the inhabitants, and so get quit of the trouble which it
involved to transport and treat them surgically. Besides this, so great
was the dread which the French wounded experienced of being handled by
German doctors and taken to German hospitals, that, in many instances,
they persuaded their own people to conceal their presence as long as
possible. And, all through, we cannot but remember the appalling
disorganisation and incompetence of the French voluntary ambulances,
which were never to be found when wanted, and which when they did
appear, brought with them little or nothing that was necessary to make a
battlefield ambulance useful. They possessed no stores; they had few
willing hands or cool heads, and discipline was unknown to them.

I think it but right to add, that once the French were transmitted to a
German hospital, they invariably (as I can testify from experience) met
with the greatest kindness at the hands of the military surgeons, and
had all that science and good order could do for them.

During all this time we were virtually prisoners in the hands of the
Prussians, and they kept a regular guard upon our quarters, while
numerous sentries paced up and down the ramparts beside us, as we went
to and fro. Nevertheless, far from interfering in any way they gave us
help in every possible manner, and showed us the most marked deference.
But the sentries who, after nightfall, were placed every fifty yards in
the streets, were, at first, constantly challenging us, until they came
to recognise our uniform, and knew who we were.

An incident, which I ought not to pass over, occurred one evening as
Hayden and I rode out for an airing. We were going along the road which
led through the Prussian artillery camp outside Donchery, and we met a
carriage or landau, accompanied by a strong guard of Uhlans, in which
was a French officer, evidently wounded, for he lay on his back, propped
up on pillows. Another officer of rank sat beside him. We were informed
that the wounded prisoner was Marshal MacMahon, and that he was on his
way to Germany through Belgium; but I have found since that this could
not have been the case, for Marshal MacMahon was taken away early on the
day of Sedan itself. Next we trotted on to the cottage at Frénois,
where, a few days previously, the Emperor had met Count Bismarck. We
then rode to the Château Bellevue in which Napoléon had had his
interview with the King of Prussia and the capitulation was signed. Here
I was shown, and sat upon, the chair in which the fallen Emperor had
been seated. The pen and ink were shown us, also, with which, as it was
alleged, the articles had been written. But I felt by no means sure of
this and told my companion so. It was amusing to see his indignation,
and the vehement way in which he put down my scepticism, as detracting
from the interest of our pilgrimage.

Our next move was to inspect some of the enemy's positions on the
heights of Marfée. Here we could trace no débris of any kind,--a
sufficiently striking contrast to what we had observed on the other
side, where one might conceive that myriads of the French had come
together for a death struggle. Over many of the Prussian graves were
erected small improvised crosses, with the numbers of the dead marked in
black paint. Of these graves not a few were afterwards opened, and the
bodies buried deeper down; for they had been lying so close to the
surface that the odour became most offensive. The Prussians wisely got
their dead out of sight quickly, and buried them hastily, without caring
how imperfectly the work was executed at the time. This they did lest
the sight of the dead might have a demoralising effect upon the living.
As we took a zigzag course towards home, we passed close by the railway
station, and perceived that it was full of wounded men. The Salle
d'Attente and all the offices and rolling-stock had been converted into
ambulances. In many of the carriages the partitions had been removed, so
that they now presented the appearance of a hospital upon wheels.

The sight was interesting to me, for I had been one of the last who had
travelled in those carriages and alighted on that platform. As we passed
on we skirted the French camp, and scanned the remaining occupiers--now
reduced to a handful--of this plague-spot. And before returning, we
inspected the pontoon bridge which the Prussians had thrown across the
Meuse upon the evening of the 31st. I had never seen a bridge of the
kind, and was naturally struck with this wonderful result of an hour's
labour. By-and-by, fortune gave me an opportunity of seeing a still more
marvellous bridge of boats, constructed and destroyed on the Loire at
Orleans.

Next day, when I had finished my work, which consisted, as usual, of
dressing wounds of every conceivable description, I was despatched by
Dr. Sims to Dr. Frank at Bazeilles, in order to ascertain what
additional surgical material was required to carry on his hospital at
that place. Passing through the town, I noticed that the streets of
Sedan were no longer overflowing with French soldiers. They were filled
with Prussians, wearing that grave or stolid expression which marked
them out so clearly from their adversaries. All the shutters were up,
the doors closed, and not an inhabitant to be seen. One could imagine
that the town had been completely deserted before the hostile troops had
entered.

Such, however, was by no means the case. The inhabitants had shut
themselves up as a silent protest, and that their eyes might be relieved
from the spectacle of the invader rejoicing over his victory. For, true
it is that with a Frenchman, to be out of sight is to be out of mind. A
few days later came a decree from the German Commandant, obliging the
citizens to open their doors and shops, and to resume the ordinary
traffic.

I left the town by the Balan gate, stepped off the high road, which was
blocked with transport and Commissariat waggons, and took my way through
the fields. In this short journey of less than a mile, I unwittingly
stepped over many a grave, and was sometimes made unpleasantly aware of
the proximity of its occupant to the surface. Having arrived at my
destination, which was easily found,--for the château was an ancient
mansion, standing in the midst of fine woods and gardens, and had an
avenue leading from the village through a handsome entrance.--I
delivered my orders, and then looked round the hospital. It was airy,
clean, and commodious, was evidently worked on system, and not
overcrowded. In attention to this latter point, lies the secret of
success in a field hospital.

I was privately made aware of an interesting fact, that the pleasant old
man who went about dressed in a rustic costume, blue blouse, loose
trousers, and rough shoes, and made himself generally useful, was the
owner of this pretty place. He had adopted the disguise as a safeguard
against the Prussians, and in order to keep an eye on his property. From
time to time, he produced out of his secret stores wine of an old
vintage and corned meat,--both welcome delicacies during those days of
horseflesh soup and black bread.

Having done my errand, I walked through a plantation which communicated
by a wicket with the road leading to the village. More than a week had
elapsed since our attention was being drawn in the direction of
Bazeilles by those continued volleys of musketry, and the fearful
conflagration which had been so conspicuous in the darkness. Yet some of
the houses were smouldering as I passed through. One of our Ambulance
surgeons who had been present at the street-fighting, gave a vivid
description of the scenes enacted there under his own observation; but
to these I have already alluded, and I shall relate only what I saw.
Here it was that the dead lay in such heaps that they had to be cleared
away before the cavalry could pass. Now all were decently buried, except
such as lay beneath the burning ruins, and of these, people said, there
were numbers. As the weather was again very close, the odour was in some
places most disagreeably perceptible. Strewn about was débris of every
kind; arms, accoutrements, broken furniture and household effects,
portions of bedding, and shreds of women's and children's clothing. I
pulled at one piece of a garment which was visible through the débris of
a ruined house, and fancied that its wearer was lying only a few inches
beneath. It was a child, so far as I could judge from the dress. That
thought made me hurry away from the spot with a feeling of sickness.
Before its downfall, Bazeilles had been a pretty little town, each
house having its own trees and garden; but now, with the exception of a
few flowers and shrubs at the Mairie, all had been destroyed. There were
statues and vases still standing in their place; but not a single thing
which could lead one to suppose that, a few days previously, this heap
of ruins had been a thriving village, its streets lined with comfortable
houses, and its people flourishing.

The village church, standing in the centre of the Square, was a total
wreck. On entering, I perceived that here, too, the shells had done
their work effectively; for the altar seemed as if it had been struck
and shivered to pieces by a mighty hammer. The stone font set in the
wall was broken to bits, the glass hung in cones from the windows. I
have kept some of these as memorials to this day. Among the rubbish of
the altar and tabernacle, I came upon a piece of shell,--the same, no
doubt, that wrecked the sanctuary. This I have also preserved.

For some time I wandered about the deserted streets, taking in the sad
sight. So fierce had been the conflagration that the trees were burned
down to the bare trunks. On turning a corner, I espied at the top of the
street, facing me, a man with a portfolio and easel in front of him,
hard at work sketching the ruins. As I approached he gave me a searching
look, and resumed his work. Later on he came up to the Hospital, and I
found he was an artist on the staff of the _Illustrated London News._
In that paper I saw afterwards the sketch he was taking; and a very
excellent one I judge it to be.

On the way back to my quarters I saw a crowd of children at a convent
door, from the steps of which two nuns were distributing bread from a
large basket. These children, I was informed, were some of the innocents
who had fled with their mothers from the burning village. It made my
heart ache to see the eagerness with which these half-famished little
creatures snatched at and began to devour the bread. And now as I slowly
trudged up the steep path which led to our Hospital, I could not but
reflect how terrible a curse is war, and what a very faint idea he will
have of it who has not seen the detestable thing face to face.

Our Hospital work, hitherto very heavy indeed, was now increased by our
thirty-six tents. All were filled with wounded; and we should soon have
overtasked our strength, but for the timely assistance which the English
Society lent us. About the 11th September, Drs. A. O. Mackellar,
Sherwell, Beck and Warren, and two dressers, accompanied by two English
nursing Sisters--Miss Pearson and Miss McLoughlin--arrived, the former
from Metz, the latter from London. They brought a supply of Mallow
condensed milk and potted beef--a welcome supplement to black coffee
and horseflesh soup. Up to this we had quite forgotten the outer world;
and we knew little of the great events which had passed, and were
passing, outside our own limited experience.

Some days previous to being thus reinforced, several of us were attacked
by intestinal disorders, from which I, among the number, suffered
severely. In a few days, the origin of this malady was accounted for.
The body of a Zouave, in a state of semi-decomposition, was drawn out of
the well which alone supplied the Hospital.

His presence there was discovered by the bumping of the bucket against
something soft, when a grappling iron was let down and brought up the
dead body.... This poor fellow had, we supposed, been wounded slightly
on the 1st; and, during that night, or the night after, had dragged
himself to the edge of the well, and had fallen in, probably owing to
his efforts to procure some relief from his thirst. There was no other
way of accounting for his presence. Dr. MacCormac christened this well
"L'Eau de Zouave". I resolved never again to complain of the coarse and
scanty fare upon which we subsisted; but my blood curdled at the thought
that this unsavoury and deadly beverage, in the shape of a cold infusion
of Zouave and brandy, had for some days past been my chief drink. Such
is war!

The weather, which had been fine and warm since we left Paris, had now
become wet and stormy. In spite of all we could do, the misery and
wretchedness of the wounded under canvas was beyond description. For the
rain came through the tents and soaked their scanty bedding. I occupied
a small tent in the middle of the others; and to give some notion of the
weather, I may mention that one night, when I had taken off nearly all
my clothes (by no means a usual, or always possible, proceeding) and had
got between the blankets, being stretched on a straw mattress, I awoke
to find myself in the open air, with the rain and wind beating fiercely
upon me. The tent had been swept away by a gust of wind. I started out
of bed, and, standing in the dark, up to my ankles in mud, drenched, and
not half-dressed, called to the Hospital guard. One of them brought a
lantern, and guided me to the main building close by, where I found some
dry clothes, and made up a bed with a few benches in the mess-room. With
the help of a tumbler of brandy and hot water, and a dose of chlorodyne,
I had an excellent night's rest in my new quarters.

But this bad weather, exposure, and overcrowding--all things beyond our
control--brought disaster into our camp. Pyæmia and secondary hemorrhage
showed themselves everywhere. All our secondary operations died, and I
regret to say that their places were immediately filled up by the
Germans, who turned all the French wounded that they could out of the
principal buildings of the town, and sent them up to us, in order to
make room for their own. Though the position of the tents was changed,
and disinfectants used as far as possible, numbers of these new invalids
had been hardly with us a couple of days when they were seized by the
same infection. The Hospital had become a centre of the plague, and
threatened to be a death-trap to all who should be sent thither.




CHAPTER VIII.

TWO THOUSAND PATIENTS.--NIGGER CHARLIE.--LOUIS ST. AUBIN, CHASSEUR
D'AFRIQUE.--THE BOY PEYEN.--GUNS CAPTURED IN THE TOWN.


THE number of wounded in the care of our Ambulance was at this time,
roughly speaking, about 500. There were 218 in the Caserne; each of the
thirty-three tents held 4 patients, and Dr. Frank had in his Hospital
150 Bavarians. This will make the total given above a fairly accurate
estimate. During and after the battles of the 31st August, and the 1st
September, the number of men whose wounds we dressed and attended to,
without receiving them into the Hospital, was calculated by us at about
2000. Nor can this be thought excessive, when, within rifle range around
us, there were of French wounded alone, over 12,500.

A further insight into the magnitude of our labours may be gained from
the fact that in our Hospital at Sedan we had a total of 436 primary
operations,--152 for injuries of the upper, and 284 for injuries of the
lower extremities. Another interesting fact worth recording is, that
during the battles about Sedan, not a single case of wound by a
mitrailleuse bullet was met with by any member of our staff.

Dr. Marion Sims assured us that the hardships we endured, and the amount
of work we actually got through, went beyond the limits of his varied
experience. To enter at length into details would, besides involving
obscure technicalities, be tedious to the general reader. I will confine
myself to a brief account of our Staff and General Management, and
select from my observations a few interesting cases. I have named the
original members of our Ambulance, and those who had recently joined us.
Nor must I forget Père Bayonne, the Dominican Friar, who was a general
favourite, and untiring in his efforts to deal with the religious wants
of the dying soldiers--no easy task among Frenchmen. Neither ought I to
omit M. Monod, our Protestant chaplain, a quiet, gentlemanly man, who
moved noiselessly about, and slipped little pamphlets with stories of
the usual type, and sheets of paper with Bible-texts printed on them,
into the patients' beds as he went along.

But I have yet to mention, at such length as he deserves, one of the
most notable characters in our Ambulance, our _chef de cuisine_ and
stud-groom, "Nigger Charlie". He was coal-black, and he and his
forefathers had been Virginian slaves in Dr. Pratt's family. When the
slaves were enfranchised, and slavery abolished, Charlie came to Paris
with his master, whose family were ruined by the emancipation, for all
their wealth had consisted in their slaves. At Paris, Charlie served Dr.
Pratt faithfully for years; indeed, he often told me that he loved his
master more dearly than his life. Dr. Pratt, on the other hand, knew and
said that in spite of his undoubted devotion, Charlie would sometimes
steal his money and pawn his plate, after which he would take to his
heels, coming back only when all he had gained in this unrighteous
fashion was spent. But, though chastised not too leniently with the
whip, nothing would induce him to run away for good. It was, in fact,
impossible to get rid of him.

When, therefore, the negro heard that his master had joined the
Ambulance, although he had a good salary as courier in an American Bank
in Paris, he packed up his traps, and, without saying a word, landed
himself into the train by which we arrived at Sedan. He was a wonderful
cook, and knew how to serve up horseflesh soup and steaks so as to defy
detection. He was also a wit of quite a brilliant type, a great rider
and judge of horses, and as a liar beat all records. But his most
decided characteristics were hatred of the Yankee, contempt for black
men, and a chivalrous devotion to white women. I had many a pleasant
chat with him. His descriptions of slave life in Virginia, as he said it
went on in nine cases out of ten, and of the happiness of their
domestic situation and surroundings, were extremely vivid and even
touching. I presume he was, at any rate, a true witness in his own
behalf.

Now, as to the exact nature of our Hospital work and its results. It is
to me a constant subject of regret that our knowledge of the antiseptic
treatment and drainage of wounds was then only in its beginning.
Although lint and _charpie_ dressings were used, saturated with carbolic
solution, yet covered as they were with oiled silk and a bandage, their
effect was spoiled. Neither was any serious attempt made to render the
instruments, operating table, and surroundings of the patients, aseptic.
Hence the high rate of mortality which ensued. Startling, in fact, as
the statement may appear, I am convinced that if we had refrained from
performing a single secondary operation at Sedan, our results would have
turned out far better.

There was associated with every individual in this great host of
patients an interesting story,--how, when, and where did they receive
their wounds? And among the number some cases could not fail to be
exceptionally romantic or affecting. The sketch I have already given of
Louis St. Aubin's adventures,--that brave Chasseur d'Afrique who was
thrice wounded on the 1st,--may be taken as an instance; and I will now
add what happened in the sequel.

St. Aubin came into the Hospital under Dr. May's care and mine. Two days
afterwards, Dr. MacCormac performed resection of both his joints. But so
afraid was Louis that advantage might be taken of his induced sleep to
amputate his arm (a mutilation to which the poor fellow would in no case
submit) that he refused utterly to be put under chloroform. Throughout
the operation, which was of necessity a protracted one, he bore up with
amazing courage. When the bones had to be sawn through, he clenched his
teeth on the fold of a sheet, and, except to give utterance to a few
stifled groans, neither flinched nor moved a muscle. His powers of
endurance were wonderful. Day after day I attended at this brave
fellow's bedside, and he and I became much attached to one another. I
took him little delicacies when I could procure them, and I was
determined not to let him die if I could help it. Dr. MacCormac visited
him very often; but he was quite jealous of allowing any one but Dr. May
or myself to dress his wounds.

For some time he went on favourably,--a progress which I observed with
pleasure; but then fell back so much that we almost despaired. At this
time his sufferings were intense; and I had much to do to keep him in
bed. One day he implored of me to put him altogether out of his pain; I
expostulated with him as firmly as I could, and pointed out how unmanly
it was to use such language, whatever he might be enduring; when he
said, with an agonising earnestness, "Tell me, doctor, is it possible
that Christ suffered as much as I am suffering now?" I answered, "Your
pain is as nothing to His," and he calmed down and went through his
agony in silence.

Happily, it was not long until he became better; and when in course of
time, I was obliged to leave with the Ambulance and go to the front, he
was rapidly recovering. Our parting was sorrowful, for I honoured and
loved the noble spirit of that dauntless soldier. He begged for my
address in Ireland, that he might write to me; and he has done so
several times. I subjoin the translation of one of his letters sent to
me while he was in Hospital after I had left Sedan.

    "SEDAN, Oct. 10th, 1870.
    "Monsieur le Docteur,

    "I do not wish to delay any longer before giving you an account
    of myself, and once more expressing my gratitude for the
    interest you have taken and the care you have lavished on me.
    What am I to tell you about my wound? It is slow in healing, and
    since your departure, I have had to undergo treatment very
    different from yours; but I have not given up the hope of a
    complete recovery, although I suffer a good deal, and am obliged
    to stay in bed.

    "I should be very happy if I could see you at my bedside, M. le
    Docteur. In spite of the pains taken with me, I feel your going
    away; you were so kind and patient. Shall I ever see you again,
    and thank you with my own lips? I hope so with all my heart. I
    will never forget you.

    "Please accept, with the expression of my deepest gratitude, my
    entire devotion.

    "LOUIS ST. AUBIN.

    "I take the liberty of sending you my address, and I hope you
    will do me the honour of letting me hear from you. Thanks to the
    kindness of M. de Montagnac, I shall receive your letter
    direct."

The address given was that gentleman's, at Bouillon.

I insert this touching note, less on account of the generous
acknowledgment which Louis St. Aubin makes to his doctor, than to show
what fine qualities were in him, and how gracefully his French courtesy
enabled him to express himself. Indeed, when his Colonel came to see the
lad, he declared that Louis was the best and bravest soldier in his
troop, and that he did not know what fear was.

Another young fellow, quite a boy, Peyen of the 50th Regiment of the
Line, had been shot through the wrist, and Dr. May considered that
amputation was necessary. He was a bright young fellow, with a beaming
countenance and a twinkle in his eye; and when I came to let him know
our determination, and take him to the operation ward, I found him
smoking a cigar. Not a bit dismayed, he got out of bed, slipped on his
trousers, and tripped briskly up the cloister, smoking his cigar all the
while, until he mounted the operation table. His arm was amputated; but
when he recovered from the chloroform state, he declined to go back to
bed until he saw his comrade's leg cut off. "I want," said Peyen, "to
tell him how it was done." This might be an incident in _Le Conscrit_ of
MM. Erckmann-Chatrian.

He quietly smoked another cigar which I procured for him, and
attentively watched every step of the operation; after which, he and his
companion returned to their ward together.

Peyen wrote me a letter, which I still possess, and will here append, to
show me how well he could write with his left hand. Nothing but a
facsimile could do justice to the quaint and brave caligraphy of this
letter, which I am sorry not to reproduce in the original. It read
pretty much as follows:--

    "AT SEDAN, September 18th, 1870.

    "On the 4th of August, took place the Battle of Bixembourg
    (_sic_) from 9 in the morning till 9 at night. The _division
    Douai_, composed of about 8000 men, too weak to resist an enemy
    six times their number, was forced to beat a retreat to Hagenau.
    In this sad engagement General Douai was killed at the head of
    his Division. The battle was won by the Prussians,--that is
    true, but the honour remains with France, the Division having
    stood against 60,000 men all that day, and having even prevented
    them for five hours from ascending the slope of Bixembourg.

    (Signed) "PEYEN, LOUIS,
    "Ever your devoted servant.
    "To M. le Docteur of Ward No. 5."

This plucky young fellow recovered without a single bad symptom. But,
alas! it was not so with a vast number of our other patients; for, about
the 14th, many of them were in a bad way, and nearly all our staff
complained of not feeling well. Dr. Sims noticed one day that the work
was telling on me, and ordered me off duty, sending me out for a walk.

Accordingly, I went into the town, and saw the French guns which had now
been stored in the Park, or exercise ground for the troops during times
of peace. I never shall forget that sight. There were 400 pieces of
artillery of all sizes, including 70 mitrailleuses packed close
together. The question suggested itself, Would an army of 100,000
Englishmen, with this amount of guns and ammunition, submit to lay down
their arms and skulk into Germany? Could any combination of
circumstances make such a thing possible? I do not believe it. An
officer on duty about the place kindly took me through the Park, and
showed me the working of the mitrailleuse, as well as a number of heavy
cannon. He warned me against picking up unburst shells, for they had
been known to explode as long as seventeen days after being fired--a
statement which I thought unlikely.

Standing beside this plateau was a large building which belonged to the
Nuns of the Assumption, and in which a sister of mine, who is in that
Order, had until recently been living. I paid them a visit and the
Mother Superior received me cordially, telling me of their labours on
behalf of the wounded, and pointing out where a shell had struck one of
the doors leading into the garden. There was also a round hole in
another door, as clean cut by a bullet as if it had been done with a
punch.

The refectory of these good Sisters was now made the operation room; and
many of the lightly wounded were limping on crutches up and down the
cloisters, their faces beaming with contentment, as well they might, for
the Nuns were indefatigable in attending to their wants. Having bidden
adieu to the amiable Superior, I directed my steps to the Place de
Turenne. Here the church, theatre, public schools, and extensive
buildings of the cloth and silk factories in the Rue Marqua, were
crowded with invalids, as was every second house in the town. All these
showed the Red Cross flag--under Prussian management, and I looked into
some of them, thinking that the Church especially, was an uncanny sight
when turned into a hospital and full of the wounded.

I now passed on through the town, and out by the Torcy Gate, and so home
again. It was four days before I was allowed another ramble, as Dr. May
had a slight attack of blood poisoning, and his work was given to me.
Most of our _infirmiers_ had been drawn by the Prussians. Those that
remained were French ambulance men; and, if we except three, were
altogether ignorant, lazy, and good-for-nothing fellows. They had
received no technical training; and the task, therefore, which devolved
upon me taxed the energies of mind and body.

Some of our patients were wounded in three, four, five, and, in one
instance, in six places, which made the dressing of their wounds a
tedious affair. I had also to dress ten or a dozen amputated limbs. At
one time I had in my charge eighteen of these, a couple of resections,
no end of flesh wounds from bullet and shell, numerous fractures--most
of them compound ones--and all varieties of lacerations and contusions.
About this time there were some forty secondary operations, in all of
which conservative surgery had been tried; but owing to the overcrowded
state and vitiated atmosphere of the Hospital, these patients nearly all
succumbed. From the commencement our lightly wounded men were removed as
soon as possible, and sent to some French or Belgian Military Hospital.
The result was that, after a few days, we had none in our care but the
severely wounded. I cannot conclude without mentioning the kind way in
which Dr. Marion Sims dealt with me. Nor shall I ever cease to recall
with gratitude, his invariable consideration for one so much younger
than himself and wholly without experience.




CHAPTER IX.

SUSPICIOUS PRUSSIANS.--THE ILLUSTRIOUS STROMEYER.--OPEN-AIR
TREATMENT.--NEUTRALITY BECOMES DIFFICULT.--DR. SIMS LEAVES US.--UNDER
ARREST.--FAREWELL TO SEDAN.


I forgot to mention a curious story told me by a French soldier, who had
a bullet wound through his arm. To account for it, he said that it had
been received from the pistol of a Prussian horseman, to whom he was in
the act of handing a piece of bread, which the fellow had asked of him.
Could this be true? It seems to me incredible, and, for the honour of
our common humanity, I hope was false.

A strange encounter which one of our new arrivals, Dr. Warren, had with
two Prussian sentinels caused some excitement, and not a little
amusement, among the rest of us. Dr. Warren was returning after dark,
with some arms that he had secured as trophies, and secreted a few days
previously. When he was passing beneath the ramparts a sentinel from
above halted him, and challenged him to give the word. Dr. Warren, who
could then neither speak nor understand French or German, shouted and
made such explanations as he could in English, which it is needless to
observe the sentinel did not comprehend. How unsatisfactory they were to
him our friend was quickly convinced, by the sentry raising his rifle
and firing at his head. He heard the bullet hit the bank close beside
him, and, as it was dusk, the flash revealed two other sentries on their
beat near by, one of whom followed suit; but luckily with no better
success.

A yet more extraordinary method of assault was now resorted to by a
third, who, being conscious, no doubt, of his incompetence as a
marksman, began to hurl large stones over the ramparts at our stranger.
Thus far, Dr. Warren had been standing petrified with astonishment, but
now realising his position he made up his mind to run, which he did at
the utmost speed, for he expected every second to feel a bullet through
him, the only doubt being where he would get hit. He escaped, and the
whole affair was reported to the Prussian commandant. This officer had
two of the sentinels mildly reproved for their excess of zeal, and the
hurler punished in that he had adopted an unsoldierly method of attack.
Dr. Scott suggested to me that this last man must have been by descent
from Tipperary.

Misadventures were in the air just then; for, a morning or two
afterwards, Drs. Parker and Marcus Beck happened to ignite some
cartridges which were lying on the ground near the Hospital, and thereby
caused an explosion. The guard turned out, arrested our two heroes, and
took them before the commandant, who, upon receiving their explanation,
set them at liberty. As time wore on, our relations with the Teutons
became more and more friendly. At first they had looked upon us with
distrust; but, when they found that our organisation was thoroughly
international, that we were independent of the French, and our staff and
management as complete and efficient as they proved, the invaders seemed
to take unusual interest in us. Their surgeons came in numbers to the
Hospital, where, of course, they met with all civility; and we, on our
side, had nothing of which to complain.

Not only so. Their surgeon-general, the great Stromeyer, condescended to
inspect our hospital, and complimenting the Chief on its details and
management, invited him to visit his own Ambulance at Floing. Dr.
MacCormac did so, and was highly pleased with all he saw. The success of
the Prussian surgical operations was very striking. It contrasted most
favourably with our results; but this depended, in great measure, on the
Floing Hospital having been a temporary structure, consisting of
improvised shanties, boarded all round in such a way that the sides
could be opened at will in louvre fashion, so that, weather permitting,
the patients were treated practically in the open air, yet without
subjecting them to chill or exposure. I conceive that this was the
explanation of their low death-rate, for the surgical methods of
procedure were identical with our own. And I may anticipate here a
remark which my experience at Orleans afterwards confirmed, _viz._, that
such open-air treatment is the only effective protection against
blood-poisoning.

This was the first introductory step to our transition from the French
to the German side, but the change was slow and gradual. Hints, indeed,
were constantly thrown out that our services would be well received, if
we followed on in the track of their army. At first we firmly asserted
our neutrality. But we were made to understand that the attitude we had
assumed was impracticable; we must make up our minds to be on one side
or the other. These warnings did much to determine the line of action
upon which we finally resolved. Our movements were also influenced by
the fact that while, as regarded the majority of our staff, our
sympathies were undoubtedly French, yet later on, when we came in
contact with the Prussians, and got to know them thoroughly, the
admiration with which we started for the other side was very much cooled
down. We looked on the belligerents with less prejudiced eyes, and, in
the long run, had no decided leaning one way or another.

In a few days from the time of which I have spoken above, Dr. May was
sufficiently well to resume duty. There was a fresh addition to our
staff in the person of Dr. Sherwell, and our duties becoming less
laborious, suffered us at length to breathe. We could now go down
frequently in the evening, for an hour, either to the Hôtel de la Croix
d'Or, or to a first-rate café in the Rue Napoléon, where it was possible
to enjoy a smoke or a drink, and a game of billiards upon a table
without pockets. This was a great recreation, and I found it did one
good after the labours of the day. There we met the French officers who
were on parole, and not a little surprise did we feel to see them smoke,
drink, and crack jokes as if the capitulation of Sedan were ancient
history. There also we came across the surgeons and assistants of the
Prussian Military Hospitals, many of whom knew French fairly well, and
not a few spoke English. We, however, had to be back again by nine
o'clock, before our drawbridge was taken up; for the standing order had
been issued that any one found in the streets after that hour was liable
to be shot.

On one occasion I happened to be returning with a fellow "Chip," who,
after the labours of the day, had partaken rather too freely of "bock"
and "cognac de café". With no small difficulty I had induced him to
start, and we found the streets dotted with sentries on night-duty.
Hence, every few minutes we were halted, and made to advance until their
bayonets almost touched our shirt-fronts. This would not have made me
nervous, had not my friend, who was a good deal more noisy since he
tasted the open air, objected to being stopped by the sentries in so
rude a fashion. He declined, in short, to account for himself. Fearing
unpleasant consequences, I came forward on the approach of every sentry
and gave the name of our corps, specifying our quarters, and adding
gently, "Mein Freund hat zu viel bock getrunken". They invariably met
the palaver with a laugh, and let us pass on, for some of them knew who
we were. One fellow, either a little more inquisitive than the rest, or
else not recognising our uniforms, put us through a regular examination,
upon which my companion began to speak roughly, and even made a clutch
at his rifle. Fortunately, the sentinel perceived what was the matter,
and was willing to let him pass; but my man wouldn't stir an inch. Here
was a predicament! As he could speak a little German, he used his
knowledge to abuse the good-natured sentry, and when he had come to the
end of his vocabulary, began again in French (of which language he was
perfect master), winding up at last in English. The soldier presented
his rifle, I daresay with the intention of frightening my comrade; and
I thought it time to seize him by the collar and get him along by main
force. Thus we arrived within regulation distance of the gates of the
Citadel.

The bridges were up, and the sentry on duty refused to let us advance
any further. By this time my friend had quieted down, and was beginning
to realise his position; for here we had to wait fully half an hour
while the sentry was hailing the others, who in their turn hailed some
more, and so on, until the officer of the watch came on the scene. His
business was to call out the guard, when, after much shouting,
shuffling, and shouldering of arms, the drawbridge was let down and we
were admitted. I was glad enough to get my obstreperous friend safely
landed within. It was a parlous incident, though my friend's drollery
and witty _sotto voce_ remarks--for he was not really overcome by the
"bock" to the extent of intoxication--have often made me laugh heartily
since.

I have thus brought my readers to the middle of our third week at Sedan;
and it was with feelings of sincere regret that we now bade adieu to Dr.
Marion Sims, who, in so short a space of time, had won the regard of
every member of our staff. He appointed in his place Drs. Frank and
MacCormac as co-surgeons in chief--Dr. Frank for the Balan and Bazeilles
division of our Ambulance, Dr. MacCormac for Sedan.

As our work was growing gradually less, we now had time for a ride
nearly every afternoon. There was one in particular which I enjoyed
much, and often took in company with my friend Hayden. It was from Sedan
to Bouillon, conveying or bringing back the post. This was the only
channel through which we could receive letters from home. Bouillon, as
is well known, is a very picturesque town, about six miles from the
frontier, and twelve from Sedan. The road thither goes through Balan,
Givet, and Givonne, over hills and dales, and through a finely wooded
country, partly lying in the Forest of Ardennes, from which there
stretches a vast succession of woods for twenty or thirty miles. As we
near our destination the road winds circuitously, and turns at last into
the Valley of Bouillon. When I saw it, the autumn colours were all
abroad, and no prospect could be more enchanting. There, beneath us,
nestling amid the foliage, now rich and golden, which clothed its hills,
lay in the noonday sun, the ancient town of Bouillon, through which a
rapid and boiling river, the Somme, flowed over a rocky bed, and was
leaping and dancing round one huge boulder, above which rose the
ivy-mantled turrets of Godfrey's once mighty fortress. The steep and
grassy slopes seemed to come down sheer to the water's edge. It was a
place of sunshine, quiet and secure; and, at first sight, one would have
thought it inaccessible.

I may mention that it was in this little expedition, when passing by
Givonne, that I espied, lying on his side and basking at full length in
the sun, a beautiful black and tan hound, identical in appearance with
the old breed of Kerry beagles. My companion was amused that I could
feel excited about Kerry beagles. But I had my reasons, and I asked the
owner of the house to whom the dog might belong. He replied that it was
the property of a Marquis in the Ardennes, who kept a pack for hunting
deer and wild boars, and he added that probably such a dog would not be
sold under 500 francs. The "Black and Tans" are an old-established pack
in my neighbourhood, with which I have long had very close associations;
and it made my blood run faster to be reminded of them in the
neighbourhood of the Forest of Ardennes, which for the world at large
has other memories, less personal, if more poetic.

Having arrived at our destination, and delivered and received our
letters, we had a good dinner and a smoke. None of my readers can know
the pleasure of a good dinner if they have not lived in a situation like
that which was then allotted to us. We went to see the old castle, with
its corridors hewn out of the solid rock, and its manhole in the parapet
leaning over the river, from which highwaymen and robbers--if not others
less guilty--were hurled into the waters beneath. Lingering about the
place for hours after we ought to have started, the evening came on so
quickly that we shirked the long journey in the dark. We thought it
better to stay the night at Bouillon, and take our chance of getting off
a reprimand by means of this explanation.

At first light next morning we started, but on arriving at the Hospital,
Dr. May, without asking why we had come after time, informed us from the
chief that we must consider ourselves as under arrest until further
notice. This was not exactly pleasant. But we had our work to do, and
there can be no doubt that the strict discipline kept in our Ambulance
was what made it so successful.

Many members of the French Hospital staff, whom I met here and
elsewhere, assured me that jealousy and want of discipline among them
were potent causes of their failure; their supply of material--which was
generally very short--in some cases outlasting the final disruption.

I had one other most interesting expedition, to the Château Bellevue and
along by the hills where the Prussians established their heavy guns on
the First. It commanded the whole valley, and as we looked down upon the
Plateau of Floing, the Bois de Garenne, the slopes of Givonne, and our
hospital standing on its huge embankment above the ramparts of Sedan
between them and us, the only wonder was that a single man of us
remained alive.

It was now time to think of a fresh field for our labours. Dr. Parker
and I were deputed to visit Arlon, a town in Belgium about thirty-five
miles distant, to consult with Capt. H. Brackenbury, who was secretary
to the English Aid Society on the Continent. We made the journey in a
two-horse open carriage by way of Bouillon in about ten hours; and with
such charming scenery, and in agreeable companionship, the journey could
not fail to prove delightful.

On the next day, Sunday, we had an interview with Brackenbury's
secretary, for he was not at home himself; and we then started off again
for Sedan before there was a soul in the streets, so that my
recollections of Arlon do not amount to a great deal.

On our return the staff held a meeting, at which Dr. MacCormac gave in
his resignation as chief in favour of Dr. Pratt (son-in-law to Marion
Sims), who succeeded him. Dr. MacCormac was engaged, as we knew, to
deliver an inaugural address at the Queen's College, Belfast, about the
middle of October; and his pupil, Scott, accompanied him on his
departure. As Dr. Nicholl also wished to return to America, it was
arranged that Wyman and Hewitt should continue with Dr. Frank for some
time before we disbanded, for the Hospital at Bazeilles had to be wound
up with our own. The following members were then selected to proceed to
the front,--our new chief, Dr. Pratt, and Drs. May, Tilghman, Mackellar,
Parker, Warren, Hayden, Sherwell, Wallace, Wombwell, Adams, and myself.
These formed the staff. With us went, of course, Nigger Charlie, and a
Turco named Jean. This Turco had received a bullet in the back at Metz,
during an effort (which proved successful) to get water from a well
which was guarded by a Prussian picket, who had already bowled over four
or five others intent on the same enterprise.

The 4th of October, which was the day appointed for starting, arrived.
We said good-bye to the few patients now remaining, who were to be taken
over by Dr. Frank. Among them was my friend Louis St. Aubin. The poor
fellow on taking leave of me, in his weak state, sobbed like a child,
and I felt equally grieved at having to part from him. We bade farewell
to Dr. MacCormac with much regret; and then the drawbridge was let down,
Dr. Pratt gave the word to start, and the Anglo-American Ambulance made
its exit from the Caserne, slowly wending its way down the rugged path,
_en route_ for Paris.

The first chapter in my experience of a military Hospital, and of the
battlefield, was closed.




CHAPTER X.

RISKY TRAVELLING.--AT BRUSSELS.--FRENCH AMBULANCE BREAKS DOWN
COMPLETELY.--WE START AGAIN FOR PARIS.


Dr. Pratt was of opinion that, if the Germans did not require our
services, they might perhaps allow us to get into Paris, where, as it
was rumoured, medical men were scarce. With this object in view, we had
determined to go round by Belgium, and now made for Bouillon, the
nearest frontier town. It was a lovely evening when we arrived. As we
came near the custom-house--"_la Douane_," the meaning of which I now
understood--we were in a state of trepidation lest, on the waggons being
overhauled, our trophies of Sedan should be discovered and taken from
us. For my part, I had hidden my chassepot, pistol, sword, and lance-top
from the Plain of Floing, securely beneath some sacks of corn. But the
officers allowed us to pass with only a formal scrutiny. As it was late,
we stayed that night in Bouillon at the hotel. All our baggage, waggons,
horses, and infirmarians were quartered in the old Castle yard; and,
having given my horse to the groom to be picketed (for I had turned my
grey Arab loose again on the plains of Sedan), I joined Hayden, and went
down into the town to look for quarters. When we had secured them, we
dined very comfortably at our hotel with the rest of the staff. This was
the first meal we had enjoyed for many weeks in a neighbourhood free
from war's alarms, and we found it pleasant.

After a sound night's rest we arose at three, and had our horses and men
together at the appointed time, which was an hour later. But more time
elapsed before all was ready, and it was quite five when marching orders
were given. We reached Libramont after a pleasant five hours' journey
through a pretty and very interesting country. Here all our staff, with
the exception of Hayden and myself, took the fast train to Brussels.

We two had been told off to stay in charge of the _infirmiers_, waggons,
horses, and stores, which we were to take on to Brussels in the evening,
by luggage-train. This was a heavy task, and occupied nearly all the
afternoon. Moreover, we had to get our ten horses fed, watered, cleaned,
and boxed, which was far from easy, considering that few of the
_infirmiers_ knew anything about the management of horses, while their
boxing and conveyance by train were quite beyond them. Here my
experience of boxing horses for the world-renowned Fair of Cahirmee,
near Buttevant, stood me in very good stead. Three of our waggons were
heavily laden with stores and corn, and required a truck each for
themselves. The fourth was a light covered fourgon which contained our
personal luggage, and in this we resolved to travel up to Brussels.

Having dined on mutton and fruit in a clean little inn near the station,
at 7·30 P.M. we started, comfortably stretched out at the bottom of our
fourgon, and covered up in rugs and coats. The night wore on, and we
were suddenly aroused from our slumbers by feeling the movement of our
waggon upon the truck, which latter was only a sand train. As we went
along, the line became more and more uneven; our van rolled several
times backwards and forwards, and was kind enough also to sway from side
to side in a most uncomfortable manner. I crept out and found its
moorings loose. The night was dark and misty, and we had no light, nor
the means of getting one; and, as the wheels of the fourgon were high,
and the edges of the truck low, while the motion of the train was very
rough, we thought it would be dangerous to try our hand at putting the
concern straight. We discussed our chances of being pitched overboard;
but concluded that the risk was small, although the jolting and swaying
from time to time vexed us not a little. However, at one in the morning,
we found ourselves at Namur, and were told we should have to stay there
four hours.

Accordingly, leaving men, horses, and waggons at the station, my friend
and I strolled into the town. It was a beautiful moonlight night. After
some wandering we saw a gleam in one of the restaurants, and roused up
the landlady, who kindly gave us some hot coffee and braised mutton.
Thus fortified we settled down in a couple of arm-chairs, and slept for
some hours. At half-past four we took our places again in the waggon;
but not until we had seen it firmly secured.

We arrived in Brussels at 10 A.M., having been _en route_ more than
fourteen hours. When we alighted we were in a sad plight,--sleepy,
hungry, and disreputable-looking, bearing upon us all the marks of the
hardships which we had gone through since entering on the campaign. Not
many minutes after our arrival, Dr. Pratt came up, and expressed his
satisfaction that orders had been carried out punctually. There was a
conveyance waiting, he said, to take us to the Hôtel de France; and
there we should find breakfast and comfortable quarters ready.

After the wear and tear of the last couple of months, one may fancy our
joy at this sudden return to the comforts, and even the luxuries, of
civilised life. No longer the din of armed men on the march, or going to
their exercises; no longer sentries at every step; no longer the
streets thronged with military! Yet, the sight of an occasional French
officer limping about on crutches, or with his arm in a sling, reminded
us that the seat of war was not far distant. When breakfast was over, we
turned in and slept until evening. Then, with some others of the staff,
and certain friends of Dr. May's who had fled from Paris, we took a box
at the Circus, and enjoyed ourselves thoroughly.

Next day it was our business to report to Captain Brackenbury. After
filling up forms, answering questions, and submitting to a deal of red
tape, we were handed our pay up to date and a month in advance.

Here we learned that the French Society, under whose patronage we had
started from Paris, was now disorganised, and had stopped supplies. Not
only were its funds exhausted, but its Ambulances had failed to render
efficient service on the field of battle. Although we had now joined the
English Society, and, in consequence, were associated also with the
Prussians, it was a graceful act on the part of the Vice-President of
the French Association to make his acknowledgments, as he did, for the
assistance which we had given to his countrymen in our Hospitals around
Sedan.

At noon on the 8th of October, we received orders to hold ourselves in
readiness; and great excitement arose when it was noised abroad that the
Prussians had cut the line between Lille and Brussels. Thus, we might
have to go round by London, in order to reach Paris. We ascertained,
however, that the line had not yet been injured, although the enemy had
come into its immediate neighbourhood near the town of Lille.

In the evening, therefore, we quitted Brussels by train, taking with us
stores, waggons, and horses. The journey to Lille was a short one, and
from thence we travelled by Douai and Arras to Amiens, where we halted
for a few hours to eat and sleep until the next train set out for Rouen.
At daybreak we resumed our expedition, and as we entered Normandy the
whole aspect of the country, which had been hitherto flat and
monotonous, changed for the better. The red-brick houses, some tiled,
some thatched, reminded me a little of villages I had remarked in my
journey from London to Holyhead; but here most of the houses had timber
built into them, which made them more quaint and picturesque.




CHAPTER XI.

AT ROUEN.--ON THE ROAD TO PARIS.--IN THE WOODS AMONG THE
FRANCS-TIREURS.--TAKEN FOR SPIES.--A REFUGEE FENIAN.--TO MANTES.


We arrived in Rouen at four o'clock in the afternoon of the 9th, and
found the town full of Gardes Mobiles, who were marching about in
civilian dress, but armed to the teeth.

Our few hours of sight-seeing next day were not long in coming to an
end; but on going to the Railway Terminus, we heard that a telegram had
just been received, saying that the Prussians had torn up the line to
Paris, and we could travel no further.

However, in a couple of hours, we succeeded in chartering an
engine,--four waggons and a carriage--in which we determined to proceed
as far as we could. Our advance, when we had started, was so slow and
deliberate that we felt sure our conductors were only waiting to pull up
at the first opportunity, and jump off the train as soon as they saw
danger ahead. After going no faster than a horse could have trotted for
two hours or so, we came to a dead stop at a little country village
called St. Pierre. Beyond this point our guard and driver stoutly
refused to carry us; and, as it was now late, we thought well to stay
there for the night. We occupied the village inn and a private house
close by. As we had orders to start at daybreak, we were up betimes next
morning. I went out as soon as it was light, and took a stroll through
the village, in which many of the houses seemed to have been deserted.
On inquiry, I found that, since the first intelligence, a few days back,
that the Prussians were coming, the owners of these houses had packed up
their moveables and gone north, leaving their dwellings to take care of
themselves. The situation of St. Pierre, overlooking the Seine, was
pretty enough. On the heights above stood its quaint little church,
built of flint-stone, and as black as coal in appearance. I went inside,
and saw that it was unadorned, but scrupulously clean.

In another hour we were on our journey again, this time by road. We took
the _route Impériale_ through the valley beside the river, and it would
be difficult to do justice in description to the varied and picturesque
scenes that came repeatedly into view, along the many miles which we
pursued of its winding course.

About midday we gained Gaillon, where we halted to refresh our horses
and ourselves. Gaillon is a large village, with a refreshing air of
comfort and cleanliness about it, and has a broad central street, lined
on each side with handsome trees. Having rested a couple of hours we
pushed on for Vernon, which was, perhaps, some ten miles distant,--a
long journey, during which we had to accommodate our pace to the jaded
horses with their heavy-laden waggons. Our way took us through vast
orchards, and, from an elevation at one part of the road, we could see
nothing for miles round us but fruit trees. But as we were now in
constant expectation of meeting the Prussian outposts, our Chief picked
out Hayden and myself, being the lightest and keenest horsemen in the
party, and sent us ahead, my friend to reconnoitre on one side of the
road, and I upon the other.

For a long while not a soul did we meet, and Dr. Pratt came to the
conclusion that Vernon was unoccupied, whether by the French or the
Prussians, as had been the case at St. Pierre. Believing that it was so,
Hayden and myself received orders to push on thither, and report our
approach at the Mairie, where we must secure the necessary accommodation
during the night for all our party.

With these commands we started, I on a mare of Dr. Pratt's, which we had
got from the Prussians at Sedan, and Hayden upon a black belonging to
Dr. May. As evening came on, it grew so dark that we could hardly see a
few yards in front of us. On we went gaily for some miles, chatting
unconcernedly on various topics, until our road entered a thick and
gloomy wood, with high forest trees towering up on each side. The
darkness was now such that we could not see one another. It was
necessary to slacken rein, and let our horses go at a slow walk, lest
they might leave the road and get us into unexpected trouble.

My friend here remarked to me cheerfully what a helpless condition we
were in, should any accident happen to us, or supposing we fell in with
the French outposts. The words, which echoed through the woods (for he
was speaking at the top of his voice, and it was a still night), had
hardly passed his lips, when suddenly we heard, first a rustling, and
then the sound of voices; shouts were raised on every side of us; and
through the brushwood in all directions we could hear men crashing
headlong towards the place where we stood entrapped.

We held our ground, for to attempt escape was certain death. We should
have received a volley before we had gone many yards.

The challenge now came to us on all sides in French, "_Qui vive?_" We
replied, "_Deux officiers de l'Ambulance Anglo-Américaine_".

They seemed not to be satisfied, and challenged us twice, finally
shouting, as if we were half a mile away, though but a few short paces
from them, "Advance, two officers of the Anglo-American ambulance,
twenty paces, and halt!"

We had no time to obey, for, in a moment, we were surrounded by armed
men. One seized my wrists and another my horse's rein. In a moment a
lantern was produced, wherewith having examined us and found that we
were unarmed, they let go their hold, but roughly hustled us out of our
saddles.

We watched these men, whom we knew by their uniforms to be
Francs-Tireurs, as they carefully examined our horses by the light of
their lanterns. All this time Hayden and I were kept apart, and, on my
attempting to speak to him, I was told that if I did so, I should be
shot straightway.

By a dim light, which some one held behind me, I discovered that I was
standing in a circle of these irregulars with bayonets set. This was the
less assuring that we had heard much of their lawlessness, and in what
fashion they dealt with those who fell into their hands. I now made a
motion towards the breast pocket of my tunic, to get my official papers,
when a musket was pointed at me and I was told not to move. Having held
a council of war over the horses, some of the men now came up and
informed their comrades that they had at last caught two Prussian spies.
For they had discovered, on my mare's flank, the Prussian brand, and,
moreover, we spoke French with a German accent; while our uniforms also
were not French but Prussian. When they had come to this conclusion, I
need hardly say that the treatment we received was not the most
courteous. They cursed and swore at us, and flourished their bayonets
about as if they had been walking-sticks. They marched us along
separately, often threatening that if we stirred or spoke, except by
their direction, they would shoot us. Two of these brigands (for they
were nothing else) marched behind me, two in front, and as many on each
side with fixed bayonets, as if I were likely to overpower them unless
guarded by the whole eight. Even when I put my hands into my trousers
pockets, the flourish of a bayonet near my stomach (from a fellow whom I
discovered to be more than half drunk) compelled me to take them out
again.

What distance we marched before arriving at Vernon we could not even
guess, so much upset and, I must acknowledge, so daunted were we at the
possible fate in store for us. We knew too well that these ruffians were
capable at any moment of hanging us from the nearest tree. Indeed,
before we entered the town, I came to the conclusion that several of the
band were under the influence of drink. I believe there was quite as
much risk of our being shot accidentally as on purpose. They appeared to
have no officer among them; nor could any of them, I suspect, so much as
read or write. They would be admirable judges, therefore, all
considered, of the difference in speaking French between the Prussian
and any other foreign accent!

We must have tramped some three or four miles, when we got into the
town; and there it was an advantage to have even these drunken bullies
as our escort, for crowds gathered in the streets as we passed along,
and taking us to be Prussian spies, stared and scowled fiercely--some
even menacing us with clenched fists. Had not our captors guarded their
prey jealously, I am confident that we should have had a rough handling
from the populace.

When we were taken into the principal barrack, I supposed that we should
be allowed to see the officer of the guard, to whom we could show our
papers, and then pass out. But nothing of the kind; the officer of the
guard was not to be found. He had gone into town to dine with the
Commandant of the place. We were put in the lock-up at the rear of the
guard room, with two sentries over us. Our courage now returned, and we
opened fire at the fellows on guard. Hayden, who spoke French fluently,
gave them his mind concerning the Francs-Tireurs individually, and the
whole French Army collectively, in such scathing language that they must
have thought we were most certainly Prussians. I, not being of so
excitable a temper as my friend, gave them to understand that such an
exhibition of military ignorance and _gaucherie_ as we had witnessed
that night would have been impossible anywhere but in France; and I
think with good reason.

We had been in the lock-up for about an hour, when the officer of the
guard appeared and examined our papers. These he forwarded to the
Commandant Militaire, who inspected them once more, and immediately
ordered our release.

The Commandant came down himself to apologise for the manner in which we
had been treated, and added the information that the Francs-Tireurs were
_canaille_, who had neither military status nor any organisation. But he
assured us, as we did not need telling, that it was a mercy we had not
been shot by them.

We were never in a thorough passion until now. My companion repeated his
strong language, and shook his fist at this gentleman; but he, measuring
the situation like a true Frenchman, became very civil and declined the
contest. After that, I begged him to overlook anything discourteous that
had been said in the heat of provocation; and our interview ended by his
ordering two gendarmes to escort us to the Mairie. We had just time to
secure the requisite quarters when our corps arrived.

I need hardly say how concerned our friends were about this ugly
incident, or how great was their satisfaction at our having escaped a
fate which had befallen others at the hands of this undisciplined but
armed rabble. It is a matter of history that the Francs-Tireurs showed
no respect even for the property of their own countrymen; and we must
not be surprised if they were relentless towards any of the invaders
whose ill luck it was to fall in with their companies. They reminded me
a good deal of what I had read about Italian brigands, whom it is
certain they resembled. And their very existence, in such a province as
Normandy, was a striking proof that France had sunk into the utmost
disorder. The Empire had perished; the Republic, established on the 4th
September, was struggling feebly for its life.

Another incident of a different nature, but of considerable interest to
me, occurred next morning, just as we were on the point of continuing
our journey.

I was standing outside my quarters ready to march, when I noticed a
smart-looking, well-dressed young man, more like an American than a
Frenchman, eyeing me at a little distance off.

There was something about him that excited my curiosity. As he
approached rather timidly, I smiled, and said, to relieve his
embarrassment, "You are not a Frenchman, I presume?" upon which his
hesitation disappeared, and, in unmistakable Tipperary accent, he
exclaimed, "No, indeed, Mr. Ryan. I'd make the queer Frenchman, born
and reared as I was in the parish of Cullen, and educated near your
father's place in the Street of Kilteely, by Mr. William Lundon."

As the speaker had uttered all this in one breath, my amazement was
considerable. Suddenly, and under such circumstances, to meet a man at
Vernon who came from the village of Kilteely, and was acquainted with
me, gave me, so to call it, a shock; and I stared at him for some
seconds without speaking. The new-comer went on to inform me that his
name was Timothy Nihil; that he was an enforced exile from his native
land; and that, at the time of the Fenian rising in 1867, he had been
the leader of that party which attacked and fired on the Glenbane Police
Barracks, near Cullen. He was, in consequence, obliged to flee the
country. He had come over to this place, and, being a man of some
education and intelligence, had found a situation as Professor of
English in the Pension of Vernon; which appointment, he told me, was
worth nearly £100 a year to him.

Timothy Nihil had been brought up in the National school; and, indeed,
went through his classics, as he had said, under Mr. William Lundon, a
teacher of great ability in his own line. To him, perhaps, it was owing
that my Fenian had a very polished address. Poor fellow! his face
lighted up with pleasure when he spoke of "the Old Country"; and when,
in answer to his inquiries about different friends, I told him all I
knew, he beamed with delight. Rebel though he had been, he was yet a
fellow-countryman; and as such I gave him the hand of friendship, and
could not but sympathise with him in his exile. With tears in his eyes,
he repeated that he could never go back to Ireland again.

He was particular in asking about my brother John, for whom he had from
his earliest youth a warm affection; neither did he forget the Black and
Tan hounds at home, in which I have already expressed my own interest.
When he had walked out of the town with me a couple of miles we parted,
after an earnest request that I would give his people news about him on
my return, which I did very gladly. During our conversation not a little
amusement was caused among the party by an English officer, Captain
F----, of the Carbineers, who, when he heard that my new acquaintance
had been a Fenian, became much excited, and was with difficulty kept
from laying hands on Nihil. I explained, however, under what
circumstances he had spoken to me, and the Captain cooled down. His
strong feeling against these men was in itself not unreasonable, as he
had been on active service in Ireland during the winter months of 1867,
and had commanded a flying squadron there.

During these four days of our journey to Paris, the weather continued
very fine, and our walking tour through so pleasant a country was most
enjoyable. Sometimes we chatted with the peasant folk who crossed our
footsteps; and I am bound to say that, in these districts, numbers of
those with whom we talked were loud in praise both of the Emperor and
the Empire. "Look," they often said, "at our beautiful roads,--the
_route Impériale_, for instance, between Rouen and Paris--look at our
towns and villages, with their magnificently wooded streets, and their
public buildings and monuments; look at the fine bridges and aqueducts
which you see all round! Whom have we to thank for these things but the
Emperor? Who has given work to the millions of the labouring class
throughout France? Who has made Paris one of the most beautiful cities
of the world, and the Capital of Europe? Who ruled France when she was
the most rich and prosperous of nations, with a trade and commerce more
extensive than ever before?" Such were the facts on which these humble
people became eloquent. Were they altogether in the wrong? Let others
decide.

The country between Vernon and Mantes is very hilly, and some parts of
the road were rendered almost impassable by the deep trenches which the
French had cut across them to hinder the German progress. Strangely
enough, although they went to such great trouble to destroy the road,
they yet left a narrow causeway, over which a waggon might pass, with a
few inches to spare. Afterwards, round about Orleans, I saw this
business of making the roads difficult for the enemy, much more
cunningly contrived, as I shall relate in its place.




CHAPTER XII.

A TOWN CAPTURED BY FIVE UHLANS.--MANTES TO VERSAILLES.--WE ARE ANNEXED
BY THE GERMANS.--GENERAL SHERIDAN AND NIGGER CHARLIE.--SOUTHERN EXILES.


Our horses being fatigued from the long journeys and heavy roads, we
made but slow progress. On coming to Mantes we put up for the night at
the Hôtel de France. This famous town is a wonder of cleanliness, with
streets as tidy as they are kept in Holland, and not a disagreeable nook
anywhere. Much consternation had been caused the day before, by five
Uhlans coming into the market-place with a train of waggons, and
carrying off all the corn and fodder they wanted for the troops about
Versailles. After they had satisfied these demands, the Uhlans proceeded
to set the station house on fire, as also to saw down the telegraph
posts and cut the wires. "What pluck these five must have had!" will be
the reader's exclamation. "Imagine such a force riding through a
populous town and carrying away with them half the produce of the
market, while the people looked on and never dreamt of molesting them!"

But the feat was not so daring, after all. Every one knew that, if the
inhabitants had interfered with these Uhlans, the place would have been
visited the day after, and reduced to ashes. Such was the punishment
inflicted upon whole villages of innocent and peaceable inhabitants,
sometimes in revenge of what had been done by a few individuals. I shall
give, by-and-by, a proclamation which was posted up on the walls of
Orleans, describing such an execution, and threatening to repeat the
like under similar circumstances.

Here it was that Pratt, who was anxious to get a vehicle in which most
of the medical staff could travel, produced an order which he had got
from the Prussian authorities at Sedan, requiring the Mairie of any
French town through which he passed, to provide him with whatever horses
and vehicles he might need for the use of his corps. Hayden and I were
sent to carry out this unpleasant task. Armed with our peremptory
document, we made a tour of discovery through Mantes, and, by throwing a
couple of francs to a lad, were informed of a large, private,
four-wheeled omnibus,--the very thing we wanted,--and a dashing,
stoutly-built pair of greys that might draw it. The yard gate stood
open, so in we walked, with the boldness of highwaymen, and asked to see
the owner. I knew by the servant's face that he suspected what was in
the wind. He retreated without uttering a syllable; but soon came back,
followed by his master--a middle-aged man of gentlemanly appearance. He
seemed very uneasy; but, when we showed him our requisition, and told
him that we had come to relieve him for a time of his carriage and pair
of horses, his face wore an aspect of the blankest dismay.

We, however, gave a sign to our own ostlers outside the gate, and
directed them to harness the horses and put to, which they did with as
great alacrity as if they had been Prussians, the owner looking on in
sullen silence. But what were his feelings, when, twenty minutes after,
he saw us driving his team through the gate and out of the town, I dare
not guess. This carriage and pair, I may here subjoin, we used until the
end of the war, when they were returned to the Mayor of Versailles, with
a request that they might be given back to the original owner at Mantes,
minus, however, one of the horses, which died from overwork and
hardship.

Thus it is, that, during times of war, the sacred rights of property are
violated, and systematic robbery is held to be justifiable by those who
can successfully practise it. In this instance the property was
ultimately restored to its rightful owner; but, in how many cases is
that never done? To be sure, the Government is supposed to indemnify any
individual who can produce the counterfoil of the requisition: yet it
would be interesting to hear from such injured persons, the story of how
much they asked and how little they got.

We pushed on rapidly towards St. Germain, for Dr. Pratt was in haste to
get there as soon as possible. Curious to relate, we had not thus far
fallen in with a single German outpost; neither did we, until our
entrance into the Forest of St. Germain, when we were challenged, and
had to give up our papers for inspection. A few miles outside that town
we passed through the village of Mézières, which had been burned to the
ground a few days previously, and was now a smouldering heap of ruins.
One burned village is like another, and I might have fancied myself in
Bazeilles. Whole streets in the suburbs of St. Germain, through which we
passed, had been plundered, and, in some cases, the soldiers had gone
from house to house by means of holes, which they had picked through the
partition walls. I rambled over a pile of such buildings, and certainly
the wanton destruction within them was astounding. The Germans, I must
say, when not watched, are rare good hands at pillage; but they were
kept down by such rigid discipline, and so severely punished for every
offence, how trivial soever, that they were, and are, I suppose
(although not with their goodwill), the best conducted soldiers on
active service in Europe. In the matter of discipline, nothing appears
to have been changed, at least in the way of relaxation, among the
Prussian rank and file, since the good old days of Frederick the Great
and his eccentric and brutal father.

Soon after leaving St. Germain we came upon the heights of Marly, just
below the aqueduct. From this position we commanded that historic view
which is too well known for me to think of describing it, even if I
could. Beneath us we observed the Palace of St. Cloud, destined in a few
short hours to be a ruin; and beyond, towering gloomily above it, the
fort of Mont Valérien. Nor was the garrison of the latter idle, for it
kept up a brisk cannonade in our direction, even as we were looking
towards it.

Presently we noticed a number of men descending beneath its guns.
Evidently, something unusual was about to take place. Of this fact we
were soon made certain by the shells dropping much nearer to us, some
bursting at the other side of the road beneath;--which, for a moment,
led us to imagine that the fort had mistaken us for an ammunition train.
The shells came very close; and the ladies who were with us felt, as was
not unreasonable, a good deal of alarm.

Just then two bodies of Bavarian cavalry and a regiment of infantry
passed us in hot haste, doubling down the hill, along a by-road, to join
other troops of the Line which were concealed in the woods beneath us,
and under cover of them were advancing. Directly to our left and below
us, the Prussian batteries opened fire from their positions, which
covered their cavalry and infantry on the right and left flank. For some
time the booming and rattling were kept up vigorously, reminding us of
the 31st August and 1st September on a small scale. But in about an hour
all was quiet again, and the French had retreated within their big fort.

This was only one of numberless little skirmishes, which were constantly
taking place between the besiegers and besieged, according as either
made excursions in the country around them in quest of provisions,
fodder, or fuel.

Early in the afternoon we entered Versailles, and reported ourselves
immediately to the Prussian General Commandant of the place. We
established our headquarters at the Hôtel des Réservoirs, in the street
of the same name. There Dr. Pratt and one or two others secured
apartments, which was a troublesome business, for every room in the
hotel seemed to be occupied by a Baron, a Prince, a Duke, or some high
officer of King William's household. I have heard that in the Hôtel des
Réservoirs alone there were four or five such magnates, among them
Prince Pless, and that Prince of Hohenzollern whose candidature for the
Crown of Spain was the pretext on which Louis Napoléon had declared war.
This latter I used to see constantly about the Conciergerie of the
hotel,--a gentlemanly, gay, and handsome youth, wearing the uniform of
the White Hussars, and certainly the last man in the world one would
picture to oneself as having originated this tremendous conflict.

Staying at the same hotel were two American Generals of great, but
unlike celebrity,--Sheridan, the famous cavalry hero, and Burnside, who
lost the battle of Fredericksburg. They made most friendly advances
towards the Americans of our Staff; but their attentions were received
by the latter with the utmost indifference, as they might have
anticipated; for our men, with the exception of Hayden, were
Southerners, and hated the ground these Yankees trod upon. Nigger
Charlie, whom their efforts had made a freeman, gnashed his teeth at
Sheridan when that General condescended to notice him. It was an honour
of which the darkie felt by no means proud. I may here state that no one
who has not lived for some time among a number of Southerners can
realise how bitter was their hatred in those years towards the North. So
great was it, indeed, that, when they could avoid it, they would not
even eat at the same table, or have any social intercourse with them. I
must add my suspicion that this was strictly true only in the case of
men like my _confrères_, who had been large slave-owners and landed
proprietors; and who, having been completely ruined by the war, had gone
into voluntary exile. On such as these the indulgent policy of the
United States Government, after the ruin of the Southern cause, had no
power to efface the memory of what they had lost. Wherever one travelled
in Europe twenty years ago, one still found Southern exiles, as deeply
imbued with hatred of the Yankee as if their subjugation had taken place
only the day before. But that feeling was not likely to outlive them.
And I am told that the gentlemen of Virginia and South Carolina have
acquiesced now in the abolition of slavery, against which they fought so
fiercely and to such little purpose, although we have just been
witnessing the renewal of their efforts to disfranchise the coloured
voters, and restore the local and State government to their own class.

But I am wandering from my subject. As I have already said, our chief's
private wish was, if possible, to get into Paris; and, with this object
in view, Dr. Pratt held a long consultation with Colonel Lloyd Lindsay,
R.A., president of the English Society, from whom we now awaited our
orders. He declared the project impossible, and placed our contingent at
the service of Prince Pless, Inspector-General of the German Ambulance
Corps, who told us that we were wanted very badly indeed at Orleans,
where there had been some days' severe fighting, with great loss on
both sides. The town was full of wounded, and the medical staff quite
insufficient to take charge of them.

Ostensibly, therefore, under the direction of Colonel Lloyd Lindsay and
the English Society, but, as a matter of fact, under German orders, we
had henceforth to carry on our mission. This change of control was
disagreeable to us; but there was no help for it. We had been at first
exclusively in the service of the French, but were always international;
and we could not, in honour or conscience, refuse to enlist in the
service of the Germans. As it had been rumoured about Versailles that we
wanted to get into Paris, there was felt a certain amount of suspicion
regarding our neutrality; and to have hesitated at this moment would
have been fatal to our usefulness in the forthcoming campaigns. We made
preparations to start as soon as might be. Colonel Lloyd Lindsay
objected to our present Ambulance uniforms, and thought them too French.
The Francs-Tireurs who had captured us, it will not be forgotten, had
taken them to be Prussian. At his suggestion, we were to wear the
undress uniform of the Royal Artillery while attached to the German
Field Hospital Service; and a supply was ordered immediately from
London. We received them, and wore them until we left Orleans. Such were
the circumstances under which our transfer from the French to the
Germans was effected.




CHAPTER XIII.

THE PRUSSIAN HEADQUARTERS IN VERSAILLES.--A POLISH LADY.--THE BURNING OF
ST. CLOUD.--GERMAN PRINCES.--BY ÉTAMPES AND THE BATTLEFIELD OF CHEVILLY
TO ORLEANS.


As Dr. Pratt had arrangements to make for our transit, and stores to lay
in, and as our horses sorely required rest, our departure was delayed
for two days, during which I had ample opportunity of seeing everything
that was worth while at Versailles. My quarters were comfortable; and I
ought not to pass over the circumstances which enabled me to come by
them.

A Polish lady of great wealth, Madame Urbonouski, who lived in the Rue
des Réservoirs, hearing that our Ambulance corps had entered Versailles,
came out in person and accosted Dr. Mackellar; telling him that it would
give her much pleasure if he and two others of his companions would
accept the use of her house and the hospitality of her table, whilst
they were staying in the city. So generous an offer could not be
refused. Mackellar, Hayden, and myself were only too well pleased to
accept such agreeable lodgings. Our apartments were exquisitely
furnished, and provided with all manner of luxuries, to which the sorry
plight wherein we had come from Rouen hardly allowed us to do justice.
Nothing could exceed Madame Urbonouski's kind attention during the
couple of days that we lodged under her roof. Provisions were scarce and
costly; but that did not prevent her from giving us the best of
everything to eat, and the choicest of wines at dinner. Before I left,
my hostess, understanding that I was an Irishman, and being well aware
of the sympathies which have existed between her own nation and Ireland
(countries alike in their religious history and their long disasters),
insisted that, if ever I returned to Versailles, I should pay a fresh
visit to the Rue des Réservoirs. I promised, and should have been glad
to have kept my word. But I did not see Madame Urbonouski a second time,
nor do I know if she is still living.

On the day after our arrival every one was talking of the burning of St.
Cloud, which occurred the previous evening. It was the unhappy result of
that fighting which we had witnessed, and, thanks to the shells from
Mont Valérien, had as good as shared in, on the 13th. Next morning we
visited the Château of Versailles, and saw the picture galleries and the
Chapel Royal. Here, too, the tokens of war made themselves conspicuous
elsewhere than in the smoky battle pieces which stared at us from the
walls. All the galleries on the ground floor had been turned into a
Hospital, and were filled with wounded Germans. And a first-class
Hospital they made,--commodious and airy, the arrangement and general
organisation as nearly perfect as possible. But on the well-tended grass
plots in front of the Palace, I saw numbers of the King's horses
exercised, where, but a short time previously, it had been almost a
crime to set foot.

I must not speak of the Grand and Little Trianon, the trim walks, or the
fountain which I beheld playing into the basin of Neptune. It was all
new and delightful to a raw youth, whose reading of French history had
been neither extensive nor profound. Mackellar and I took a drive
through the Park, out of Versailles, and enjoyed a distant view of Paris
from certain heights whence now and then we could hear the booming of
cannon as the forts discharged their thunder. On our homeward journey we
met the old King driving in an open landau. He was accompanied by the
German Chancellor. When I saw him another time, General von Moltke was
in the carriage. Thus I had now set eyes on the man at Sedan who had
lost one Empire, and on those who were destined, in the halls of Louis
XIV., to set up another ere six months should have passed.

But, indeed, it would seem that half the inhabitants of Versailles
consisted of Princes, Dukes, Barons, and commanding officers. I counted
nine of these notables at the Hôtel des Réservoirs; yet some were such
shabby-looking specimens of their class, that for the time they
extinguished in me the respect which I had supposed myself to entertain
for Royalty and its surroundings. A Prince, a Duke, or a General who
walked about the streets munching alternately a piece of raw ham or
sausage from one hand, and a junk of bread from the other, was not
exactly one's idea of feudal, or even German dignity, and modern
civilisation. Yet such were the manners of not a few whose high-sounding
names read well in the "Gazette".

I have been offered a share of these rude repasts, and, famished as I
might be at the time, my self-respect, nay, my very appetite, revolted;
and it was not without an effort that I was able politely to decline.
The proverb runs, "A la guerre comme à la guerre". I do not mean to
imply that in a campaign the decencies of life can be always observed;
but there is such a thing as a gentlemanly bearing, and, out of that
great assembly which boasted of the oldest German blood in its members,
I saw few that came up to the standard which English officers are
expected to fulfil, as they do with the rarest exception.

I must confess that, when I looked at several of our _attachés_ in the
German Court, and contrasted them with their perhaps more intellectual,
and certainly more uncouth and burly, cousins from across the Rhine, and
from the Mark of Brandenburg, I could not help feeling proud of that
sister country which gave them birth. But, alas! when we compare, not
the officers and men individually, but the English army with the German,
we can no longer boast: our methods of training, until lately, have been
old-fashioned; our military science lags behind; and our neglect of the
training, to which all young men in town and village might, with the
greatest advantage, be submitted, is, I venture to think, no less
shortsighted than imbecile.

On the evening of the 15th, I saw 12,000 men marched through Versailles.
These were new levies from Germany, coming to reinforce the army of
investment around Paris; and a splendid body of men they looked. The
general topic of conversation now was the fighting about Orleans, the
taking of that town, and the defeat of the Army of the Loire, news of
which had just reached us. Fresh combats in the neighbourhood were
expected, and Dr. Pratt made all ready to start on the morrow. At
Versailles it seemed to be the general opinion that Paris could not long
hold out; and, with its capitulation, the war must end.

On the same night, we had orders to report ourselves next morning at
headquarters, and to be ready to start at a moment's notice.

October 16th was Sunday. I was up at cockcrow, heard Mass at the Grande
Église, and bade good-bye to my amiable hostess. Our staff was assembled
at headquarters, in the midst of the Princes, Barons, Dukes, and the
rest whom I have already mentioned. When everything was ready, and the
waggons and stores had got into line, those who had horses rode forward,
while we others drove in the comfortable private omnibus we
had--borrowed, I suppose, is the word,--at Mantes. Our departure created
a little stir in the town. As for Prince Pless, he made himself
agreeable to all of us, and was even so thoughtful as to give us a
supply of cigars.

Moving along in procession we made somewhat of a display. From the
foremost of our Ambulance waggons floated the flags of England and
America on the breeze. Just as we arrived at the broad avenue in front
of the Mairie, which is the way out of the town, a Prussian regiment
passed us in full marching order. As they approached, we heard orders
passed along among officers and under officers, in loud harsh tones,
with the result that, as each Company went by, it presented arms, our
chief and those who rode with him returning the salute.

We were soon clear of Versailles and on the way to Longumeau, at which
place, after a pleasant journey, we arrived towards evening, and
secured quarters for the night. Before we were in the town very long, it
appeared that our arrival had created a commotion among the Prussian
authorities, who had no knowledge as to what we were, and whither we
were going. On these points several of us were questioned repeatedly by
the German officers. This was the case. Our chief, finding Longumeau
such a trifling village, did not think it necessary to report himself to
the Commandant. That such was not 

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