A Story of the Siege of Berlin.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1057, 2 June 1892, Page 11

A Story of the Siege of Berlin.

FROM THE FP.ENCH OF ALPHONSE DAUDET. We were walking up the Avenue des Champs Elyedss with Doctor Y., and reading the story of the siege of Paris in the walls and pavements around us, perforated by shells and broken by canister shot. Shortly before wa arrived at the Square de l’Etoile the doctor stopped, and pointing to one of the large corner houses, which are so“poinpously grouped around the Arc de Triomphe, said : Do you see those four windows which open out on to that balcony up there? During the early part of August, that terrible month of 1870 which was so full of storms and disasters, I was called to

that house to attend a case of apoplexy. It was the house of Colonel Jouve, a cuirassier of the first Empire, and a man full of glory and patriotism. He had lived since the beginning of the war in the Champs-ElyeAcs in the apartments up there. Can you guess why ? In order to assist at the triumphal return of our troops. Poor man. The new 3of Wissembourg came as he was getting up from the table. Reading Napoleon’s name at the bottom of the bulletin of defeat, ho had fallen as if struck by a thunderbolt.

I found the old cuirassier stretched out upon the floor of the room, his face as rigid arid expressionless as if he had received a blow on the head from a club. S anding, he must have been very tall ; lying down he appeared immense. His handsome features, perfect teeth, and a head of thick, white hair, made hia eighty years seem to be but sixty. Near him knelt his granddaughter, in tears. She resembled him very much. To see them together you would have said that they were like two Greek medallions struck from the same mould, only the one was old and time-worn and a little irregular in outline, while the other was bright and perfect, like the complete brilliancy and softness of a new coin.

The child’s grief touched me. She was the daughter and granddaughter of a soldier. Her father was on the staff of MacMahon, and the figure of her old grandfather stretched before her called up before her mind another image not less terrible. I reassured her as well as I cou'd, but to tell the truth I had little hope. It was a case of hemiplegia or paralysis of one side of the body, and at eighty one hardly everrecovers from that. For three days he remained in the same motionless and stupefied condition. In the meantime the news of Ruchslioffen had arrived in Paris. You will recall in what a strange way the news came. Until evening we believed that the French had gained a great victory, 20,000 Prussians killed, and the Prince Royal a prisoner. I do not know by’ what miracle, by what magnetic current, an echo of our national joy found its way into the paralysed mind of the semi-conscious soldier; nevertheless, it is true that when I approached his bed that evening 1 did not find the same man. His eyes were almost clear and his tongue was recovering its usefulness. He had the strength to smile at mo and to stammer twice, ‘ Yic-toi-re !’ ‘ Yes, my dear colonel, a great victory.’ And as fast as I gave him the details of MacMahon’s success, I saw his features relax and his face grow brighter. When I was leaving the grandchild accompanied me to the door. She was pale and was sobbing. ‘But he is saved,’ I said, taking her by the hand. The unhappy child had scarcely strength enough to answer me. The real news about Reichshoffen had just been posted announcing that MacMahon was in flight, and that his army was destroyed. We looked at each other in consternation. She was grieving also at Ihe thought of her father. For myself, I trembled at the thought of the grandfather. He surely would not be able to resist t his new shock, and what could we do ? Lot him keep his joy and the illusions which had brought him to life again. But in that cas3 it would be necessary to lie.

* Yery well, then, I will lie,’ said the heroic child, and drying her tears quickly, she went back like a ray of sunshine into her grandfather’s room. It was a severe task which she had undertaken. At first, all went well. The poor man’s mind was greatly weakened, and he allowed himself to be deceived as readily as if he were a child. But as he gained strength his mind bec ime clearer. We had to show him the course of the army’B movements and to re-write the military bulletins for him. It was truly a pity to see the pretty child bending night and day over the map of Germany, and striving to put everything together into a glorious French campaign ; Bazune before Berlin, Frossard in Jaivaria, and MacMahon at the Baltic. She sought my advice in everythin!;, and I helped her as well as I could, but it was the old soldier himself who aided us the most in this imaginary invasion. He had conquered Germany so many times under the first Empire. He knew all the campaigns in advance. ‘Now, this is where they are going to do, and that is what they are going to do,’ he would say, and his prophecies were always realised, a fact which did not fail to make him very proud. Unfortunately we never went quickly enough for him in capturing cities and winning battles. His appetite for victory was insatiable. Every day, when I called to see him, 1 learned of a new French victory. ‘Doctor, we have taken Mayence,’ said the young girl one day, meeting me with a weary 3mile. At almost the same instant I heard a joyous voice exclaim from the next rooms. ‘ March on. March on. In eight days we shall enter Berlin.’ At that moment the Prussians were not more than eight days from Paris. We considered at first whether it would not be better to take the colonel into the country, but as soon as he got outside of the city he would have found out the true circumstances, and I found him still too feeble and too weakened by his great shock to let him know the truth. We therefore decided to remain in Paris. On the first day of the siege I went to his room—-as I recollect—very much

excited, and with that anguish in my soul which could only be caused by the condition of our unfortunate city, with war itself under our very walls, and our suburbs themselves converted into frontiers. I found my patient proud and contented. ‘ Ah,’ said he ‘ the siege has commenced.’

I looked at him in astonishment. * What, colonel, do you know V The grandchild turned toward me. ‘Yes, doctor. It is great news. The siege of Berlin has begun.’ She said this in a perfectly quiit manner, keeping intently at her sewing. How could he suspect anything ? He was not able to hear the conquerors’ cannon. He could not see his unhappy Paris broken down and destroyed. All he could see from his bed was a part of the Arc de Triomphe, and around him, in his chamber, the mementoes of the first Empire, well calculated to sustain his illusions. Portraits of marshals, pictures of battles, tha king of Rome in his baby garments, large tables filled with royal relics, with medals and bronzes, the island of St.

Helena under a glass globe, some miniatures representing the patron saint of that island dressed for a ball in a yellow gown with leg of-mntton sleeves—and all these things representing perfectly the peculiar charm of the year 1806. It was this atmosphere of victories and conquests, more than anything else, which made him believe so readily in the 3iega of Berlin. Beginning with this day our military operations were much simplified. It was only a matter of patience to take Berlin. From time to time, when the old soldier was wearied too much, we read him a letter from his son, an imaginary letter, of oourse. You can readily imagine t.he despair of the poor child, without news of her father, knowing him to be a prisoner, deprived of everything and perhaps sick, and at the same time having to read happy letters from him. At last her determination failed her.

No news came to the colonel f->r some weeks, and finally he grew very restless and could sleep no longer. Immediately a letter came from Germany, and she read it to him gaily, at the same time struggling to keep back her tears. The colonel listened attentively, smiled in an appreciative manner, apprevod, criticised and explained to us the meaning of the troublesome passages. But he especially enjoyed the answers which he sent to his son. ‘ Never forget that you are a Frenchman,’said he once. ‘Be generous to the

unfortunate people. Do not let the invasion bear too heavily upon them.’ And then would come recommendations, some delightful precepts on the respect which we owe to woman. It was, indeed, a true military code of honour for the uae of conquerors. With these h« also intermingled some general considerations of political matters, on the conditions of peace to be imposed on the conquered country, and in that, I tnu3t say, he was

not exacting. ‘ The indemnity of war, nothing more. What good would it do to take their provinces from them ? Gan we make a new France out of Germany V He said this in a firm voice, and there seemed to be so much candour in Jiis words, such a beautiful patriotic fait i, that it was impossible not to be moved. During all this time the siege was going on, but not the siege of Berlin, unfortunately. The weather was severe, and the misery was intensified by bombardments, epidemics, and famine. Nevertheless, thanks to our care and efforts, and to the indefatigable tenderness that was shown him by everyone, the old soldier’s peace was not disturbed for a moment. Until the end I was able to procure him white bread and fresh meat. There was only enough for him, however, and you can imaguie nothing more touching than those repasts of the poor old grandfather, so innocently selfish, he on his bod, laughing happily, and beside him his dear granddaughter, somewhat pale because of her privations, guiding his hand, helping him to drink, and assisting him at everything. Then, strengthened by tue meal, tun'd the comforts of hi 3 warm room, the cold wintry wind and tue snow beating against the windows, the old cuirassier would tell us about his campiigns in the north, and relate for the hundredth time the story of that unfortunate retreat from Russia, when they had nothing to eat but frozen bread and horse flesh. _ | ‘Do you realise it, my child V he said.

‘We actually had to eat the flesh of horses!’ . She did, indeod, understand it well. For two months aha had not eatsn anything ehe. As the days went by our task increased in proportion to the gaining strength of our patient. The enfeebled state of his mind and body, which had helped U 3 much until now, began to disappear. Two or three times the terribm volleys upon the Maillot gate had caused him to jump, his ear having become as keen as that of a hunting dog. We had to invent' a second victory of Bazaine at Berlin, and tell him that the cannon were being fired from the Invalides as a salute in honour of the victory. One day, whan we had pushed his bed close to the win- | dow, he saw the National Guards assembling on the avenue. ; ‘ What are those troops doing there ! he demanded, and we heard him grum- , bling: , . „ ‘ What a show ! What a showing !

Nothing more came of this, but we saw that henceforth we must take the greatest precautions. Unfortunately we did not take enough, One evening as I was com-

ing in the child came to me, greatly troubled. ‘ The troops are going to enter the city to-morrow,’ she said. Was the old soldier’s door open ? It must have been, for I now remember that his appearance was strangely altered that evening. It is probable that ho had heard us. Ouly we spoke of the Prussians and he thought of the French and of the triumphal entrance for which he had been waiting so long, with MacMahon marching down the avenue amid flowers and the flourish of trumpets, his son at the marshal’s side, and he up above on the balcony, in a grand uniform like that which he had worn at Lutzen, saluting the tittered flags and the powder-stained eagles.

Poor Colonel Jouve. Ha had undoubtedly imagined that we would hinder him from viewing the grand return of the troops, in. order to avoid too great excitement on liis part. „ So ho spoke to no one ; but on the following day, at the same hour that the Prussian batalions were entering the long avenue which leads from the Maillot gate to the Tuilleries, the window up there opened softly, and the colonel appeared upon the balcony, his helmet on his head, his sword at his side, and in the complete uniform of a cuirassier.* I still asked myself by what effort of will, by what new hold upon life, he had thus been able to pnt himself again in harness. One thing that lam sure of, however, is that ho must have been greatly astonished, standing there behind the railing, to find the streets so empty and so quiet, the blinds of all the houses closed, and all Paris as gloomy as a pest-house. Hi must have been astonished especially at the singular appearance of the flags, which were white with red crosses upon them, and furthermore at the fact that there wap nobody in the streets to greet the soldiers. For a moment he appeared to think that he had been deceived. Bat no. Behind the Arc de Triomphe there was a confused clatter and a black line which advanced ataadily. Then, little by little, the peaks of the helmets began to glisten, the drums began to sound, and through the Arc de l’Etoile burst the triumphal ranks of Schubert. Then, in tha dreadful silence, a terrible cry was heard : ‘ Anx armes ! Les Prussians !’ And tha four Uhlans of tha advance guard saw high above them on tha batcony a tall old man stagger and fall prone upon the floor. Colonel Jouve was dead.