Some German cavalry—probably the same men who had pursued Gougeard's column—showed themselves at Saint Calais, which is only some thirty miles north-east of Le Mans, as early as December 18, but soon retired, and no further advance of the enemy in that direction took place for several days. Chanzy formed two flying columns, one a division under General Jouffroy, and one a body of 4000 men under General Rousseau, for the purpose of worrying the enemy and keeping him at a distance. These troops, particularly those of Jouffroy, who moved towards Montoire and Vendome, had several small but none the less important engagements with the Germans. Prince Frederick Charles, indeed, realised that Jouffroy's operations were designed to ensure the security of Chanzy's main army whilst it was being recruited and reorganized, and thereupon decided to march on Le Mans and attack Chanzy before the latter had attained his object.

On Christmas Day a force of German cavalry, artillery, and infantry descended upon Saint Calais (then a town of about 3500 inhabitants), levied a sum of 17,000 francs, pillaged several of the houses, and ill-treated a number of the townsfolk. When some of the latter ventured to protest, pointing out, among other things, that after various little engagements in the vicinity several wounded Germans had been brought into the town and well cared for there, the enemy's commanding officer called them a pack of cowards, and flung them 2000 francs of his recent levy, to pay them, he said, for their so-called services. The affair was reported to Chanzy, who thereupon wrote an indignant letter to the German general commanding at Vendome. It was carried thither by a certain M. de Vezian, a civil engineer attached to Chanzy's staff, who brought back the following reply:

"Recu une lettre du General Chanzy. Un general prussien ne sachant pas ecrire une lettre de tel genre, ne saurait y faire une reponse par ecrit.

"Au quartier-general a Vendome, 28 Decembre 1870."

Signature (illegible).

It was, perhaps, a pity that Chanzy ever wrote his letter of protest. French generals were too much given to expressing their feelings in writing daring that war. Deeds and not words were wanted.

Meantime, the army was being slowly recruited. On December 13, Gambetta had issued—none too soon—a decree authorising the billeting of the men "during the winter campaign." Nevertheless, when Gougeard's troops returned to Yvree l'Eveque, they were ordered to sleep under canvas, like many other divisions of the army. It was a great mistake. In that severe weather—the winter was one of the coldest of the nineteenth century—the men's sufferings were very great. They were in need, too, of many things, new shoes, linen, great-coats, and other garments, and there was much delay in providing for their more urgent requirements. Thus the number of desertions was not to be wondered at. The commander-in-chief did his best to ensure discipline among his dispirited troops. Several men were shot by way of example. When, shortly before the battle of Le Mans, the 21st Army Corps crossed the Huisne to take up positions near Montfort, several officers were severely punished for riding in ambulance and baggage waggons instead of marching with their men.

Le Mans is not easily defended from an enemy advancing upon it from eastern, north-eastern, and south-eastern directions. A close defence is impossible by reason of the character of the country. At the time of which I write, the town was one of about 37,000 inhabitants. Very ancient, already in existence at the time of the Romans, it became the capital of Maine. William the Conqueror seized it, but it was snatched from his son, Robert, by Helie de La Fleche. Later, Geoffrey, the First of the Plantagenets, was buried there, it being, moreover, the birthplace of his son, our Henry II. In after years it was taken from Richard Coeur-de-Lion by Philip-Augustus, who assigned it, however, to Richard's widow, Queen Berengaria. A house in the town is wrongly said to have been her residence, but she undoubtedly founded the Abbaye de l'Epau, near Yvre l'Eveque, and was buried there. It was at Le Mans that King John of France, who surrendered to the Black Prince at Poitiers, was born; and in the neighbouring forest, John's grandson, Charles VI, first gave signs of insanity. Five times during the Anglo-French wars of the days of Henry V and Henry VI, Le Mans was besieged by one or another of the contending parties. The town again suffered during the Huguenot wars, and yet again during the Revolution, when the Vendeens seized it, but were expelled by Marceau, some 5000 of them being bayoneted on the Place de l'Eperon.

Rich in associations with the history of England as well as that of France, Le Mans, in spite of its accessibility—for railway lines coming from five different directions meet there—is seldom visited by our tourists. Its glory is its cathedral, strangely neglected by the numerous English writers on the cathedrals of France. Here are exemplified the architectural styles of five successive centuries, and, as Merimee once wrote, in passing from one part of the edifice to another, it is as if you passed from one to another religion. But the supreme features of the cathedral are its stained-glass windows, which include some of the very oldest in the world. Many years ago, when they were in a more perfect condition than they are now, Hucher gave reproductions of them in a rare folio volume. Here, too, is the tomb of Queen Berengaria of England, removed from the Abbaye de l'Epau; here, also, was formerly that of her husband's grandfather, Geoffrey Plantagenet. But this was destroyed by the Huguenots, and you must go to the museum to see all that remains of it—that is, the priceless enamel plaque by which it was formerly surmounted, and which represents Geoffrey grasping his sword and his azure shield, the latter bearing a cross and lions rampant—not the leoparded lions passant of his English descendants. Much ink has flowed respecting that shield during squabbles among heraldists.

Judging by recent plans of Le Mans, a good many changes have taken place there since the time of the Franco-German War. Various new, broad, straight streets have been substituted for some of the quaint old winding ones. The Pont Napoleon now appears to have become the Pont Gambetta, and the Place, des Minimes is called the Place de la Republique. I notice also a Rue Thiers which did not exist in the days when Le Mans was familiar to me as an old-world town. In this narrative I must, of course, take it as it was then, not as it is now.

The Sarthe, flowing from north to south, where it is joined by its tributary the Huisne, coming from the north-east, still divides the town into two unequal sections; the larger one, on the most elevated part of which stands the cathedral, being that on the river's left bank. At the time I write of, the Sarthe was spanned by three stone bridges, a suspension bridge, and a granite and marble railway viaduct, some 560 feet in length. The German advance was bound to come from the east and the south. On the east is a series of heights, below which flow the waters of the Huisne. The views range over an expanse of varying elevation, steep hills and deep valleys being frequent. There are numerous watercourses. The Huisne, which helps to feed the Sarthe, is itself fed by a number of little tributaries. The lowest ground, at the time I have in mind, was generally meadow-land, intersected here and there with rows of poplars, whilst the higher ground was employed for the cultivation of crops. Every little field was circumscribed by ditches, banks, and thick hedges.

The loftiest point of the eastern heights is at Yvre l'Eveque, which was once crowned by a renaissance chateau, where Henry of Navarre resided when he reduced Le Mans to submission. Northward from Yvre, in the direction of Savigne, stretches the high plateau of Sarge, which on the west slopes down towards the river Sarthe, and forms one of the most important of the natural defences of Le Mans. Eastward, from Yvre, you overlook first the Huisne, spanned at various neighbouring points by four bridges, but having much of the meadow-land in its valley cut up by little water-channels for purposes of irrigation—these making the ground additionally difficult for an attacking force to traverse. Secondly, you see a long plateau called Auvours, the possession of which must necessarily facilitate an enemy's operations. Following the course of the railway-line coming from the direction of Paris, you notice several pine woods, planted on former heaths. Still looking eastward, is the village of Champagne, where the slopes are studded with vines, whilst the plain is arable land, dotted over with clumps of chestnut trees. North-east of Champagne is Montfort, where Chanzy at first stationed the bulk of the 21st Army Corps under Jaures, this (leaving his flying columns on one side) being the most eastern position of his forces at the time when the German advance began. The right of the 21st Corps here rested on the Huisne. Its extreme left extended northward towards the Sarthe, but a division of the 17th Corps under General de Colomb guarded the Alencon (N.) and Conlie (N.W.) railway lines.

Confronted by the Huisne, the heights of Yvre and the plateaux of Sarge and Auvours, having, for the most part, to keep to the high-roads—for, bad as their state might be at that season, it was nothing compared with the condition of the many narrow and often deep lanes, whose high banks and hedges, moreover, offered opportunities for ambush—the Germans, it was obvious, would have a difficult task before them on the eastern side of Le Mans, even should they drive the 21st Corps from Montfort. The approach to the town is easier, however, on the south-east and the south, Here are numerous pine woods, but on going towards Le Mans, after passing Parigne-l'Eveque (S.E.) and Mulsanne (S.), the ground is generally much less hilly than on the east. There are, however, certain positions favourable for defence. There is high ground at Change, midway between the road from Saint Calais to Le Mans, via Yvre, and the road from Grand Luce to Le Mans via Parigne. Over a distance of eight miles, moreover, there extends—or extended at the time I refer to—a track called the Chemin des Boeufs, suitable for defensive purposes, with high ground at at least two points—Le Tertre Rouge, south-east of Le Mans, and La Tuilerie, south of the town. The line of the Chemin des Boeufs and the position of Change was at first entrusted by Chanzy to the 16th Corps, whose commander, Jaureguiberry, had his headquarters at the southern suburb of Pontlieue, an important point affording direct access to Le Mans by a stone bridge over the Huisne.

When I returned to Le Mans from Saint Servan in the very first days of January, Chanzy's forces numbered altogether about 130,000 men, but a very large proportion of them were dispersed in different directions, forming detached columns under Generals Barry, Curten, Rousseau, and Jouffroy. The troops of the two first-named officers had been taken from the 16th Corps (Jaureguiberry), those of Rousseau were really the first division of the 21st Corps (Jaures), and those of Jouffroy belonged to the 17th, commanded by General de Colomb. [The 16th and 17th comprised three divisions each, the 21st including four. The German Corps were generally of only two divisions, with, however, far stronger forces of cavalry than Chanzy disposed of.] It is a curious circumstance that, among the German troops which opposed the latter's forces at this stage of the war, there was a division commanded by a General von Colomb. Both these officers had sprung from the same ancient French family, but Von Colomb came from a Huguenot branch which had quitted France when the Edict of Nantes was revoked.

Chanzy's other chief coadjutors at Le Mans were Jaures, of whom I have already spoken, and Rear-Admiral Jaureguiberry, who, after the general-in- chief, was perhaps the most able of all the commanders. Of Basque origin and born in 1815, he had distinguished himself as a naval officer in the Crimean, Chinese, and Cochin China expeditions; and on taking service in the army under the National Defence, he had contributed powerfully to D'Aurelle's victory at Coulmiers. He became known among the Loire forces as the man who was always the first to attack and the last to retreat. [He looked somewhat older than his years warranted, being very bald, with just a fringe of white hair round the cranium. His upper lip and chin were shaven, but he wore white whiskers of the "mutton-chop" variety. Slim and fairly tall, he was possessed of no little nervous strength and energy. In later years he became Minister of Marine in the Waddington, the second Freycinet, and the Duclerc cabinets.]

Having referred to Chanzy's principal subordinates, it is fitting that I should give a brief account of Chanzy himself. The son of an officer of the First Empire, he was born at Nouart in the Argonne, and from his personal knowledge of that region it is certain that his services would have proved valuable during the disastrous march on Sedan, when, as Zola has rightly pointed out in "La Debacle," so many French commanding officers were altogether ignorant of the nature and possibilities of the country through which they advanced. Chanzy, however, like many others who figured among the Loire forces, had begun life in the navy, enlisting in that service when sixteen years of age. But, after very brief experience afloat, he went to the military school of St. Cyr, passed out of it as a sub-lieutenant in 1843, when he was in his twenty-first year, was appointed to a regiment of Zouaves, and sent to Algeria. He served, however, in the Italian campaign of 1859, became lieutenant-colonel of a line regiment, and as such took part in the Syrian expedition of 1860-61. Later, he was with the French forces garrisoning Rome, acquired a colonelcy in 1864, returned to Algeria, and in 1868 was promoted to the rank of general of brigade.

At the outset of the Franco-German War, he applied for active service, but the imperial authorities would not employ him in France. In spite of the associations of his family with the first Empire, he was, like Trochu, accounted an Orleanist, and it was not desired that any Orleanist general should have an opportunity to distinguish himself in the contemplated "march on Berlin." Marshal MacMahon, however, as Governor of Algeria, had formed a high opinion of Chanzy's merits, and after Sedan, anxious as he was for his country in her predicament, the Marshal, then a prisoner of war, found a means of advising the National Defence to make use of Chanzy's services. That patriotic intervention, which did infinite credit to MacMahon, procured for Chanzy an appointment at the head of the 16th Army Corps, and later the chief command of the Second Loire Army.

When I first saw him in the latter days of 1870, he was in his fifty-eighth year, well built, and taller than the majority of French officers. His fair hair and fair moustache had become grey; but his blue eyes had remained bright, and there was an expression of quiet resolution on his handsome, well-cut face, with its aquiline nose and energetic jaw. Such, physically, was the general whom Moltke subsequently declared to have been the best that France opposed to the Germans throughout the war. I never once saw Chanzy excited, in which respect he greatly contrasted with many of the subordinate commanders. Jaureguiberry was sometimes carried away by his Basque, and Gougeard by his Celtic, blood. So it was with Jaures, who, though born in Paris, had, like his nephew the Socialist leader, the blood of the Midi in his veins. Chanzy, however, belonged to a calmer, a more quietly resolute northern race.

He was inclined to religion, and I remember that, in addition to the chaplains accompanying the Breton battalions, there was a chief chaplain attached to the general staff. This was Abbe de Beuvron, a member of an old noble family of central France. The Chief of the Staff was Major-General Vuillemot; the Provost-General was Colonel Mora, and the principal aides-de-camp were Captains Marois and de Boisdeffre. Specially attached to the headquarters service there was a rather numerous picked force under General Bourdillon. It comprised a regiment of horse gendarmes and one of foot gendarmes, four squadrons of Chasseurs d'Afrique, some artillery provided chiefly with mountain-guns, an aeronautical company under the brothers Tissandier, and three squadrons of Algerian light cavalry, of the Spahi type, who, with their flowing burnouses and their swift little Arab horses, often figured conspicuously in Chanzy's escort. A year or two after the war, I engaged one of these very men—he was called Saad—as a servant, and he proved most devoted and attentive; but he had contracted the germs of pulmonary disease during that cruel winter of 1870-71, and at the end of a few months I had to take him to the Val-de-Grace military hospital in Paris, where he died of galloping consumption.

The German forces opposed to Chanzy consisted of a part of the so-called "Armee-Abtheilung" under the Grand Duke of Mecklenburg, and the "Second Army" under Prince Frederick Charles of Prussia, the latter including the 3rd, 9th, 10th, and 13th Army Corps, and disposing of numerous cavalry and nearly four hundred guns. The Prince ascertained that the French forces were, in part, extremely dispersed, and therefore resolved to act before they could be concentrated. At the outset the Germans came down on Nogent-le-Rotrou, where Rousseau's column was stationed, inflicted a reverse on him, and compelled him (January 7) to fall back on Connerre—a distance of thirty miles from Nogent, and of less than sixteen from Le Mans. On the same day, sections of Jouffroy's forces were defeated at Epuisay and Poirier (mid-way between Le Mans and Vendome), and also forced to retreat. The French detachments (under Jouffroy, Curten, and Barry) which were stationed along the line from Saint Calais to Montoire, and thence to Saint Amand and Chateau-Renault—a stretch of some five-and-twenty miles—were not strong enough to oppose the German advance, and some of them ran the risk of having their retreat cut off. Chanzy realized the danger, and on the morning of January 8 he despatched Jaureguiberry to take command of all the troops distributed from the south to the south-east, between Chateau-du-Loir and Chateau-Renault, and bring them to Le Mans.

But the 10th German Corps was advancing in these directions, and, after an engagement with Barry's troops at Ruille, secured positions round La Chartre. This seriously threatened the retreat of the column under General Curten, which was still at Saint Amand, and, moreover, it was a further menace to Barry himself, as his division was distributed over a front of fourteen miles near Chateau-du-Loir. Jaureguiberry, however, entreated Barry to continue guarding the river Loir, in the hope of Curten being able to retreat to that point.

Whilst, however, these defensive attempts were being made to the south of Le Mans, the Germans were pressing forward on the north-east and the east, Prince Frederick Charles being eager to come in touch with Chanzy's main forces, regardless of what might happen on the Loir and at Saint Amand. On the north-east the enemy advanced to La Ferte Bernard; on the east, at Vance, a brigade of German cavalry drove back the French cuirassiers and Algerians, and Prince Frederick Charles then proceeded as far as Saint Calais, where he prepared for decisive action. One army corps was sent down the line of the Huisne, another had orders to advance on Ardenay, a third on Bouloire, whilst the fourth, leaving Barry on its left flank, was to march on Parigne-l'Eveque. Thus, excepting a brigade of infantry and one of cavalry, detached to observe the isolated Curten, and hold him in check, virtually the whole of the German Second Army marched against Chanzy's main forces.

Chanzy, on his side, now ordered Jaures (21st Corps) to occupy the positions of Yvre, Auvours, and Sarge strongly; whilst Colomb (17th Corps) was instructed to send General Paris's division forward to Ardenay, thus reducing Colomb's actual command to one division, as Jouffroy's column had previously been detached from it. On both sides every operation was attended by great difficulties on account of the very severe weather. A momentary thaw had been followed by another sudden frost, in such wise that the roads had a coating of ice, which rendered them extremely slippery. On January 9 violent snowstorms set in, almost blinding one, and yet the rival hosts did not for an hour desist from their respective efforts. At times, when I recall those days, I wonder whether many who have read of Napoleon's retreat from Moscow have fully realized what that meant. Amidst the snowstorms of the 9th a force of German cavalry attacked our extreme left and compelled it to retreat towards the Alencon line. Rousseau's column being in a dangerous position at Connerre, Colin's division of the 21st Corps was sent forward to support it in the direction of Montfort, Gougeard with his Bretons also advancing to support Colin. But the 13th German Corps attacked Rousseau, who after two engagements was driven from Connerre and forced to retreat on Montfort and Pont-de-Gennes across the Huisne, after losing in killed, wounded, and missing, some 800 of his men, whereas the enemy lost barely a hundred. At the same time Gougeard was attacked, and compelled to fall back on Saint-Mars-la-Bruyere.

But the principal event of the day was the defeat of General Paris's force at Ardenay by a part of the 3rd German Corps. The latter had a superiority in numbers, but the French in their demoralised condition scarcely put up a fight at all, in such wise that the Germans took about 1000 prisoners. The worst, however, was that, by seizing Ardenay, the enemy drove as it were a wedge between the French forces, hampering their concentration. Meantime, the 9th German Corps marched to Bouloire, which became Prince Frederick Charles's headquarters. The 10th Corps, however, had not yet been able to advance to Parigne l'Eveque in accordance with the Prince's orders, though it had driven Barry back on Jupilles and Grand Luce. The sole advantage secured by the French that day was that Curten managed to retreat from Chateau-Renault; but it was only on the night of the 10th, when he could be of little or no use to Chanzy, that he was able to reach Chateau-du-Loir, where, in response to Chanzy's urgent appeals, Jaureguiberry had succeeded in collecting a few thousand men to reinforce the troops defending Le Mans.

For four days there had been fighting on one and another point, from the north-east to the south of the town, the result being unfavourable to the French. Chanzy, it is true, was at this critical moment in bad health. According to one account which I heard at the time, he had had an attack of dysentery; according to another, he was suffering from some throat complaint, combined with violent neuralgic pains in the head. I do not think, however, that his ill-health particularly affected the issue, which depended so largely on the manner in which his plans and instructions were carried out. The strategy adopted by the Germans at Sedan and in the battles around Metz had greatly impressed the generals who commanded the French armies during the second period of the war. One might really say that they lived in perpetual dread of being surrounded by the enemy. If there was a lack of concentration on Chanzy's part, if he sent out one and another flying column, and distributed a considerable portion of his army over a wide area, it was precisely because he feared some turning movement on the part of the Germans, which might result in bottling him up at Le Mans.

The earlier instructions which Prince Frederick Charles forwarded to his subordinates certainly seem to indicate that a turning movement was projected. But after the fighting on January 9, when, as I have indicated, the 3rd German Army Corps penetrated wedge-like into the French lines, the Prince renounced any idea of surrounding Chanzy's forces, and resolved to make a vigorous frontal attack before they could be reinforced by any of the still outlying columns. In coming to this decision, the Prince may well have been influenced by the result of the recent fighting, which had sufficiently demonstrated the superiority of the German troops to show that, under the circumstances, a frontal attack would be attended with far less risk than if he had found himself faced by a really vigorous antagonist. Captain Hozier, whom I had previously seen at Versailles, was at this time acting as Times correspondent with the Prince's army, and, in subsequently reviewing the fighting, he expressed the opinion that the issue of the Prince's operations was never for a moment doubtful. Still, on all points but one, the French put up a fairly good defence, as I will now show.



XII

LE MANS AND AFTER

The real Battle of Le Mans begins (January 10)—Jouffroy and Paris are driven back—Gougeard's Fight at Champagne—The Breton Mobilises from Conlie—Chanzy's Determination—His Orders for January 11—He inspects the Lines—Paris driven from the Plateau of Auvours—Gougeard's gallant re-capture of the Plateau—My Return to Le Mans—The Panic at La Tuilerie—Retreat inevitable—Withdrawal of the French—Entry of the Germans—Street Fighting—German Exactions—My Escape from Le Mans—The French Retreat—Rear-Guard Engagements—Laval—My Arrest as a Spy—A Dramatic Adventure.

Some more snow fell on the morning of January 10, when the decisive fighting in front of Le Mans really began. On the evening of the 9th the French headquarters was still without news of Generals Curten, Barry, and Jouffroy, and even the communications with Jaureguiberry were of an intermittent character. Nevertheless, Chanzy had made up his mind to give battle, and had sent orders to Jaureguiberry to send Jouffroy towards Parigne-l'Eveque (S.E.) and Barry towards Ecommoy (S. of Le Mans). But the roads were in so bad a condition, and the French troops had been so severely tried, and were so ill-provided for, that several of the commander-in-chief's instructions could not be carried out.

Jouffroy at least did his best, and after a hard and tiring march from Grand Luce, a part of his division reached Parigne in time to join in the action fought there. But it ended disastrously for the French, one of their brigades losing as many as 1400 men, and the Germans taking altogether some 2000 prisoners. Jouffroy's troops then fell back to Pontlieue, the southern suburb of Le Mans, in a lamentable condition, and took care to place the Huisne between themselves and the Germans. In the same direction Paris's demoralised, division, already worsted at Ardenay on the previous day, was driven from Change by the 3rd German Corps, which took no fewer than 5000 prisoners. It had now almost cut the French eastern and southern lines apart, threatening all direct communication between the 21st and the 16th French Corps. Nevertheless, it was in a dangerous position, having both of its flanks exposed to attack, one from Yvre and Auvours, and the other from Pontlieue and the Chemin des Boeufs, which last line was held by the 16th French Corps.

Meantime, Gougeard's Bretons had been engaged at Champagne, quite a close encounter taking place in the fields and on the vineyard slopes, followed by a house-to-house fight in the village streets. The French were at last driven back; but somewhat later, on the Germans retiring from Champagne, they reoccupied the place. The result of the day was that, apart from the somewhat hazardous success achieved by the 3rd German Corps, the enemy had gained no great advantage. His 13th Corps had made but little progress, his 9th had not been brought into action, and his 10th was as yet no nearer than Grand Luce. On the French side, Barry had at last reached Mulsanne, thus covering the direct southern road to Le Mans, Jaureguiberry being lower down at Ecommoy with some 9000 men of various arms and regiments, whom he had managed to get together. As for Curten's division, as it could not possibly reach the immediate neighbourhood of Le Mans in time for the fighting on the 11th, it received orders to march on La Suze, south-west of the imperilled town. During the 10th, moreover, Chanzy was strengthened by the welcome arrival of several additional field-pieces and a large number of horses. He had given orders to raise the Camp of Conlie, but instead of the forty or fifty thousand men, which at an earlier period it was thought that camp would be able to provide, he now only derived from it some 9000 ill-equipped, badly armed, and almost undrilled Breton Mobilises. [On the other hand, as I previously related, the camp had already provided the bulk of the men belonging to Gougeard's division.] They were divided into six battalions—one of which came from Saint Malo, the others from Rennes and Redon—and were commanded by a general named Lalande. They proved to be no accession of strength; they became, on the contrary, a source of weakness, and disaster, for it was their behaviour which eventually sealed the fate of the Second Loire Army.

But Chanzy, whatever his ailments might be, was personally full of energy and determination. He knew, moreover, that two new army corps (the 19th and the 25th) were being got ready to reinforce him, and he was still resolved to give battle and hold on for another four or five days, when he relied on compelling Prince Frederick Charles to retreat. Then, with his reinforced army, he hoped to march once more in the direction of Paris. Curiously enough, it was precisely on that critical day, January 10, that Gambetta sent Trochu a despatch by pigeon-post, telling him that on the 20th, at the latest, both Chanzy and Bourbaki would be moving on the capital, having between them over 400,000 men.

But if Chanzy's spirits did not fail him, those of his men were at a very low ebb indeed. He was repeatedly told so by subordinate commanders; nevertheless (there was something Napoleonic in his character), he would not desist from his design, but issued instructions that there was to be a resolute defence of the lines on the 11th, together with a determined effort to regain all lost positions. At the same time, the statements of the divisional generals respecting the low morale of some of the troops were not left unheeded, for a very significant order went forth, namely, that cavalry should be drawn up in the rear of the infantry wherever this might appear advisable. The inference was obvious.

Three divisions and Lalande's Breton Mobilises were to hold the south-eastern lines from Arnage along the track known as the Chemin des Boeufs, and to link up, as well as possible, with Paris's and Gougeard's divisions, to which fell the duty of guarding the plateau of Auvours and the banks of the Huisne. The rest of the 21st Corps (to which Gougeard's division belonged) was to defend the space between the Huisne and the Sarthe. Colomb's fragmentary force, apart from Paris's division, was still to cover Le Mans towards the north-east. Barry's men, on their expected arrival, were to serve as reserves around Pontlieue.

The morning of January 11 was bright. The snow had ceased falling, but lay some inches thick upon the ground. In order to facilitate the passage of troops, and particularly of military waggons, through the town, the Mayor of Le Mans ordered the inhabitants to clear away as much of this snow as possible; but it naturally remained undisturbed all over the countryside. Little had been seen of Chanzy on the two previous days, but that morning he mounted horse and rode along the lines from the elevated position known as Le Tertre Rouge to the equally elevated position of Yvre. I saw him there, wrapped in a long loose cloak, the hood of which was drawn over his kepi. Near him was his picturesque escort of Algerian Spahis, and while he was conversing with some officers I pulled out a little sketch-book which I carried, and tried to outline the group. An aide-de-camp who noticed me at once came up to inquire what I was doing, and I therefore had to produce the permit which, on returning to the front, I had obtained from the Chief of the Staff. It was found to be quite in order, and I went on with my work. But a few minutes later the general, having given his orders, gathered up his reins to ride away. As he slowly passed me, he gave me just one little sharp glance, and with a faint suspicion of a smile remarked, "I will look at that another time." The aide-de-camp had previously told him what my purpose was.

That day the 3rd German Corps again resumed the offensive, and once more drove Gougeard out of Champagne. Then the enemy's 9th Corps, which on January 10 had done little or nothing, and was therefore quite fresh, was brought into action, and made a resolute attack on the plateau of Auvours. There was a fairly long fight, which could be seen from Yvre. But the Germans were too strong for Paris's men, who at last disbanded, and came, helter-skelter, towards the bridge of Yvre in terrible confusion. Flight is often contagious, and Gougeard, who had fallen back from Champagne in fairly good order, feared lest his men should imitate their comrades. He therefore pointed two field-pieces on the runaways, and by that means checked their stampede.

Having established themselves at the farther end of the plateau, the Germans advanced very cautiously, constantly seeking cover behind the various hedges. General de Colomb, to whose command Paris's runaway division belonged, insisted, however, that the position must be retaken. Gougeard thereupon collected a very miscellaneous force, which included regular infantry, mobiles, mobilises, and some of Charette's Volontaires de l'Ouest—previously known in Borne as the Pontifical Zouaves. Placing himself at the head of these men, he made a vigorous effort to carry out Colomb's orders. The French went forward almost at the charge, the Germans waiting for them from behind the hedges, whence poured a hail of lead. Gougeard's horse was shot under him, a couple of bullets went through his coat, and another—or, as some said, a splinter of a shell—knocked off his kepi. Still, he continued leading his men, and in the fast failing light the Germans, after repeated encounters, were driven back to the verge of the plateau.

That was told me afterwards, for at the moment I was already on my way back to Le Mans, which I wished to reach before it was absolutely night. On coming from the town early in the morning, I had brought a few eatables in my pockets, but they had soon been consumed, and I had found it impossible to obtain any food whatever at Yvre, though some of the very indifferent local wine was procurable. Thus I was feeling very hungry as I retraced my steps through the snow towards the little hostelry in the Rue du Gue de Maulny, where I had secured accommodation. It was a walk of some four or five miles, but the cold urged me on, and, in spite of the snow, I made the journey fairly rapidly, in such wise that little more than an hour later I was seated in a warm room in front of some steaming soup, answering all sorts of questions as to what I had seen during the day, and particularly whether les notres had gained a victory. I could only answer that the "Prussians" had taken Auvours, but that fighting was still going on, as Gougeard had gone to recapture the position. At the moment, indeed, that was the extent of my information. The landlord looked rather glum and his daughter somewhat anxious, and the former, shaking his head, exclaimed: "Voyez-vous, Monsieur l'Anglais, nous n'avons pas de chance— pas de chance du tout! Je ne sais pas a quoi ca tient, mais c'est comme ca. Et, tenez, cela ne me surprendrait pas de voir ces sales Prussiens dans la ville d'ici a demain!" ["We have no luck, no luck at all. I don't know why, but there it is. And, do you know, it would not surprise me to see those dirty Prussians in the town between now and to-morrow."] Unfortunately for Le Mans and for France also, his forebodings were accurate. At that very moment, indeed, a great disaster was occurring.

Jaureguiberry had reached the southern suburb of Pontlieue at about nine o'clock that morning after a night march from Ecommoy. He had divided his miscellaneous force of 9000 men into three brigades. As they did not seem fit for immediate action, they were drafted into the reserves, so that their arrival was of no particular help that day. About eleven o'clock the 3rd German Corps, coming from the direction of Change, attacked Jouffroy's lines along the more northern part of the so-called Chemin des Boeufs, and, though Jouffroy's men fought fairly well, they could not prevent their foes from capturing the position of the Tertre Rouge. Still, the enemy gained no decisive success in this direction; nor was any marked result attained by the 13th German Corps which formed the extreme right of the attacking forces. But Prince Frederick Charles had sent orders to Voigts Rhetz, who was at Grand Luce, [A brigade of cavalry kept up communications between him and the 3rd Army Corps.] advance with the 10th Corps on Mulsanne, which the French had evacuated; and on reaching Mulsanne, the same general received instructions to come to the support of the 3rd Corps, which was engaged with Jouffroy's force. Voigts Rhetz's men were extremely fatigued; nevertheless, the 20th Division of Infantry, commanded by General Kraatz-Koschlau, went on towards the Chemin des Boeufs, following the direct road from Tours to Le Mans.

Here there was an elevated position known as La Tuilerie—otherwise the tile-works—which had been fortified expressly to prevent the Germans from bursting upon Le Mans from the direct south. Earth-works for guns had been thrown up, trenches had been dug, the pine trees, so abundant on the southern side of Le Mans, had been utilised for other shielding works, as well as for shelter-places for the defending force. Unfortunately, at the moment of the German advance, that defending force consisted of the ill-equipped, badly armed, and almost untrained Breton Mobilises, [There were just a few old soldiers among them.] who, as I have already related, had arrived the previous day from the camp of Conlie under the command of General Lalande. It is true that near these men was stationed an infantry brigade of the 6th Corps d'Armee, whose duty it was to support and steady them. They undoubtedly needed to be helped, for the great majority had never been in action before. Moreover, in addition to the infantry brigade, there were two batteries of artillery; but I fear that for the most part the gunners were little better than recruits. Exaggerated statements have been made respecting the quality of the firearms with which the Mobilises were provided. Many of the weapons were afterwards found to be very dirty, even rusty, but that was the result of neglect, which their officers should have remedied. It is true, however, that these weapons were for the most part merely percussion guns. Again, it has been said that the men had no ammunition, but that statement was certainly inaccurate. On the other hand, these Mobilises were undoubtedly very cold and very hungry—even as I myself was that day—no rations having been served to them until late in the afternoon, that is, shortly before they were attacked, at which moment, indeed, they were actually preparing the meal for which they had so long been waiting.

The wintry night was gathering round when Kraatz-Kosohlau found himself with his division before the position of La Tuilerie. He could see that it was fortified, and before attempting any further advance he fired a few shells. The Mobilises were immediately panic-stricken. They made no attempt at defence; hungry though they were, they abandoned even their pots and pans, and fled in the direction of Pontlieue, which formed, as it were, a long avenue, fringed with factories, textile mills, bleaching works, and so forth. In vain did their officers try to stop the fugitives, even striking them with the flats of their swords, in vain did Lalande and his staff seek to intercept them at the Rond Point de Pontlieue. Nothing could induce them to stop. They threw away their weapons in order to run the faster. At La Tuilerie not a gun was fired at the Germans. Even the infantry brigade fell back, without attempting to fight.

All this occurred at a moment when everybody thought that the day's fighting was over. But Jaureguiberry appeared upon the scene, and ordered one of his subordinates, General Lebouedeo, to retake the lost position. Lebouedeo tried to do so with 1000 tired men, who had been in action during the day, and failed. A second attempt proved equally futile. No effort apparently was made to secure help from Barry, who was at Arnage with 5000 infantry and two brigades of cavalry, and who might have fallen on the left flank of the German Corps. La Tuilerie was lost, and with it Le Mans was lost also.

I was quietly sipping some coffee and reading the local newspapers—three or four were published at Le Mans in those days—when I heard of that disastrous stampede. Some of the men had reached the town, spreading the contagion of fear as they came. Tired though I was, I at once went towards the Avenue de Fontlieue, where the excitement was general. Gendarmes were hurrying hither and thither, often arresting the runaways, and at other times picking up weapons and cartridge-cases which had been flung away. So numerous were the abandoned weapons and equipments that cartloads of them were collected. Every now and then an estafette galloped to or from the town. The civilians whom one met wore looks of consternation. It was evident, indeed, to everybody who knew how important was the position of La Tuilerie, that its capture by the Germans placed Le Mans in jeopardy. When the two attempts to retake it had failed, Jaureguiberry urged immediate retreat. This was rendered the more imperative by other events of the night and the early morning, for, inspirited by their capture of La Tuilerie, the Germans made fresh efforts in other directions, so that Barry had to quit Arnage, whilst Jouffroy lost most of his positions near the Chemin des Boeufs, and the plateau d'Auvours had again to be evacuated.

At 8 a.m. on January 12, Chanzy, after suggesting a fresh attempt to recover La Tuilerie, which was prevented by the demoralisation of the troops, was compelled to give a reluctant assent to Jaureguiberry's proposals of retreat. At the same time, he wished the retreat to be carried out slowly and methodically, and informed Gambetta that he intended to withdraw in the direction of Aleneon (Orne) and Pre-en-Pail (Mayenne). This meant moving into Normandy, and Gambetta pointed out that such a course would leave all Brittany open to the enemy, and enable him to descend without opposition even to the mouth of the Loire. Chanzy was therefore instructed to retreat on Laval, and did so; but as he had already issued orders for the other route, great confusion ensued, the new orders only reaching the subordinate commanders on the evening of the 12th.

From January 6 to 12 the French had lost 6000 men in killed and wounded. The Germans had taken 20,000 prisoners, and captured seventeen guns and a large quantity of army materiel. Further, there was an incalculable number of disbanded Mobiles and Mobilises. If Prince Frederick Charles had known at the time to what a deplorable condition Chanzy's army had been reduced, he would probably have acted more vigorously than he did. It is true that his own men (as Von Hoenig has admitted) were, generally speaking, in a state of great fatigue after the six days' fighting, and also often badly circumstanced in regard to clothing, boots, and equipments. [Even when the armistice arrived I saw many German soldiers wearing French sabots.] Such things cannot last for ever, and there had been little or no opportunity to renew anything since the second battle of Orleans early in December. In the fighting before Le Mans, however, the German loss in killed and wounded was only 3400—200 of the number being officers, whom the French picked off as often as possible.

On the morning of the 12th all was confusion at Pontlieue. Guns, waggons, horsemen, infantrymen, were congregated there, half blocking up the bridge which connects this suburb with Le Mans. A small force under General de Roquebrune was gallantly striving to check the Germans at one part of the Chemin des Boeufs, in order to cover the retreat. A cordon of gendarmes had been drawn up at the railway-station to prevent it from being invaded by all the runaways. Some hundreds of wounded men were allowed access, however, in order that they might, if possible, get away in one of the many trains which were being sent off as rapidly as possible. This service was in charge of an official named Piquet, who acted with the greatest energy and acumen. Of the five railway-lines meeting at Le Mans only two were available, that running to Rennes via Laval, and that running to Angers. I find from a report drawn up by M. Piquet a little later, that he managed to send off twenty-five trains, some of them drawn by two and three engines. They included about 1000 vans, trucks, and coaches; that is 558 vans laden with provisions (in part for the relief of Paris); 134 vans and trucks laden with artillery materiel and stores, 70 vans of ammunition, 150 empty vans and trucks, and 176 passenger carriages. On securing possession of the station, however, the Germans still found there about 200 vans and carriages, and at least a dozen locomotive engines. The last train left at 2.45 p.m. I myself got away (as I shall presently relate) shortly after two o'clock, when the station was already being bombarded.

General de Roquebrune having, at last, been compelled to withdraw from the vicinity of the Chemin des Boeufs, the Germans came on to the long avenue of Pontlieue. Here they were met by most of the corps of gendarmes, which, as I previously related, was attached to the headquarters-staff under General Bourdillon. These men, who had two Gatlings with them, behaved with desperate bravery in order to delay the German entry into the town. About a hundred of them, including a couple of officers, were killed during that courageous defence. It was found impossible, however, to blow up the bridge. The operation had been delayed as long as possible in order to facilitate the French retreat, and when the gendarmes themselves withdrew, there no longer remained sufficient time to put it into execution.

The first Germans to enter the town belonged to the 38th Brigade of Infantry, and to part of a cavalry force under General von Schmidt. After crossing the bridge of Pontlieue, they divided into three columns. One of them proceeded up the Rue du Quartier de Cavalerie in the direction of the Place des Jacobins and the cathedral. The second also went towards the upper town, marching, however, by way of the Rue Basse, which conducted to the Place des Halles, where the chief hotels and cafes were situated. Meantime, the third column turned to the left, and hastened towards the railway station. But, to their great amazement, their advance was repeatedly checked. There were still a number of French soldiers in the town, among them being Mobile Guards, Gendarmes, Franc-tireurs, and a party of Marine Fusiliers. The German column which began to ascend the Rue Basse was repeatedly fired at, whereupon its commanding officer halted his men, and by way of punishment had seven houses set on fire, before attempting to proceed farther. Nevertheless, the resistance was prolonged at various points, on the Place des Jacobins, for instance, and again on the Place des Halles. Near the latter square is—or was—a little street called the Rue Dumas, from which the French picked off a dozen or twenty Germans, so infuriating their commander that he sent for a couple of field-pieces, and threatened to sweep the whole town with projectiles.

Meantime, a number of the French who had lingered at Le Mans were gradually effecting their escape. Many artillery and commissariat waggons managed to get away, and a local notability, M. Eugene Caillaux—father of M. Joseph Caillaux who was French Prime Minister during the latter half of 1911, and who is now (Dec., 1913) Minister of Finances—succeeded in sending out of the town several carts full of rifles, which some of the French troops had flung away. However, the street-fighting could not be indefinitely prolonged. It ceased when about a hundred Germans and a larger number of French, both soldiers and civilians, had been killed. The Germans avenged themselves by pillaging the houses in the Rue Dumas, and several on the Place des Halles, though they spared the Hotel de France there, as their commander, Voigts Rhetz, reserved it for his own accommodation. Whilst the bombardment of a part of the lower town continued—the railway station and the barracks called the Caserne de la Mission being particularly affected—raids were made on the French ambulances, in one of which, on the Boulevard Negrier, a patient was barbarously bayoneted in his bed, on the pretext that he was a Franc-tireur, whereas he really belonged to the Mobile Guard. At the ambulance of the Ecole Normale, the sisters and clergy were, according to their sworn statements, grossly ill-treated. Patients, some of whom were suffering from smallpox, were turned out of their beds—which were required, it was said, for the German wounded. All the wine that could be found was drunk, money was stolen, and there was vindictive destruction on all sides.

The Mayor [The Prefect, M. Le Chevalier, had followed the army in its retreat, considering it his duty to watch over the uninvaded part of the department of the Sartha.] of Le Mans, M. Richard, and his two adjoints, or deputies, went down through the town carrying a towel as a flag of truce, and on the Place de la Mission they at last found Voigts Rhetz surrounded by his staff. The General at once informed the Mayor that, in consequence of the resistance of the town, it would have to pay a war-levy of four millions of francs (L160,000) within twenty-four hours, and that the inhabitants would have to lodge and feed the German forces as long as they remained there. All the appeals made against these hard conditions were disregarded during nearly a fortnight. When both the Mayor and the Bishop of Le Mans solicited audiences of Prince Frederick Charles, they were told by the famous Count Harry von Arnim—who, curiously enough, subsequently became German Ambassador to France, but embroiled himself with Bismarck and died in exile—that if they only wished to tender their humble duty to the Prince he would graciously receive them, but that he refused to listen to any representations on behalf of the town.

A first sum of L20,000 and some smaller ones were at last got together in this town of 37,000 inhabitants, and finally, on January 23, the total levy was reduced, as a special favour, to L80,000. Certain German requisitions were also to be set off against L20,000 of that amount; but they really represented about double the figure. A public loan had to be raised in the midst of continual exactions, which lasted even after the preliminaries of peace had been signed, the Germans regarding Le Mans as a milch cow from which too much could not be extracted.

The anxieties of the time might well have sufficed to make the Mayor ill, but, as a matter of fact, he caught small-pox, and his place had to be taken by a deputy, who with the municipal council, to which several local notabilities were adjoined, did all that was possible to satisfy the greed of the Germans. Small-pox, I may mention, was very prevalent at Le Mans, and some of the ambulances were specially reserved for soldiers who had contracted that disease. Altogether, about 21,000 men (both French and Germans), suffering from wounds or diseases of various kinds, were treated in the town's ambulances from November 1 to April 15.

Some thousands of Germans were billeted on the inhabitants, whom they frequently robbed with impunity, all complaints addressed to the German Governor, an officer named Von Heiduck, being disregarded. This individual ordered all the inhabitants to give up any weapons which they possessed, under penalty of death. Another proclamation ordained the same punishment for anybody who might give the slightest help to the French army, or attempt to hamper the German forces. Moreover, the editors, printers, and managers of three local newspapers were summarily arrested and kept in durance on account of articles against the Germans which they had written, printed, or published before Chanzy's defeat.

On January 13, which chanced to be a Friday, Prince Frederick Charles made his triumphal entry into Le Mans, the bands of the German regiments playing all their more popular patriotic airs along the route which his Royal Highness took in order to reach the Prefecture—a former eighteenth-century convent—where he intended to install himself. On the following day the Mayor received the following letter:

"Mr. Mayor,

"I request you to send to the Prefecture by half-past five o'clock this afternoon 24 spoons, 24 forks, and 36 knives, as only just sufficient for the number of people at table have been sent, and there is no means of changing the covers. For dinner you will provide 20 bottles of Bordeaux, 30 bottles of Champagne, two bottles of Madeira, and 2 bottles of liqueurs, which must be at the Prefecture at six o'clock precisely. The wine previously sent not being good, neither the Bordeaux nor the Champagne, you must send better kinds, otherwise I shall have to inflict a fine upon the town.

(Signed) "Von Kanitz."

This communication was followed almost immediately afterwards by another, emanating from the same officer, who was one of the Prince's aides-de-camp. He therein stated (invariably employing, be it said, execrable French) that the cafe-au-lait was to be served at the Prefecture at 8 a.m.; the dejeuner at noon; and the dinner at 7.30 p.m. At ten o'clock every morning, the Mayor was to send 40 bottles of Bordeaux, 40 bottles of Champagne, 6 bottles of Madeira, and 3 bottles of liqueurs. He was also to provide waiters to serve at table, and kitchen- and scullery-maids. And Kanitz concluded by saying: "If the least thing fails, a remarkable (sic) fine will be inflicted on the town."

On January 15 an order was sent to the Mayor to supply at once, for the Prince's requirements, 25 kilogrammes of ham; 13 kilos. of sausages; 13 kilos. of tongues; 5 dozen eggs; vegetables of all sorts, particularly onions; 15 kilos. of Gruyere cheese; 5 kilos. of Parmesan; 15 kilos. of best veal; 20 fowls; 6 turkeys; 12 ducks; 5 kilos. of powdered sugar. [All the German orders and requisitions are preserved in the municipal archives of Le Mans.] No wine was ever good enough for Prince Frederick Charles and his staff. The complaints sent to the town-hall were incessant. Moreover, the supply of Champagne, by no means large in such a place as Le Mans, gave out, and then came all sorts of threats. The municipal councillors had to trot about trying to discover a few bottles here and there in private houses, in order to supply the requirements of the Princely Staff. There was also a scarcity of vegetables, and yet there were incessant demands for spinach, cauliflowers, and artichokes, and even fruit for the Prince's tarts. One day Kanitz went to the house where the unfortunate Mayor was lying in bed, and told him that he must get up and provide vegetables, as none had been sent for the Prince's table. The Mayor protested that the whole countryside was covered with snow, and that it was virtually impossible to satisfy such incessant demands; but, as he afterwards related, ill and worried though he was, he could not refrain from laughing when he was required to supply several pounds of truffles. Truffles at Le Mans, indeed! In those days, too! The idea was quite ridiculous.

Not only had the demands of Prince Frederick Charles's staff to be satisfied, but there were those of Voigts Rhetz, and of all the officers lodging at the Hotel de France, the Hotel du Dauphin, the Hotel de la Boule d'Or and other hostelries. These gentlemen were very fond of giving dinners, and "mine host" was constantly being called upon to provide all sorts of delicacies at short notice. The cellars of the Hotel de France were drunk dry. The common soldiers also demanded the best of everything at the houses where they were billeted; and sometimes they played extraordinary pranks there. Half a dozen of them, who were lodged at a wine-shop in, I think, the Rue Dumas, broached a cask of brandy, poured the contents into a tub, and washed their feet in the spirituous liquor. It may be that a "brandy bath" is a good thing for sore feet; and that might explain the incident. However, when I think of it, I am always reminded of how, in the days of the Second Empire, the spendthrift Due de Gramont-Caderousse entered the. Cafe Anglais in Paris, one afternoon, called for a silver soup-tureen, had two or three bottles of champagne poured into it, and then made an unrepentant Magdalen of the Boulevards, whom he had brought with him, wash his feet in the sparkling wine. From that afternoon until the Cafe Anglais passed out of existence no silver soup-tureens were ever used there.

I have given the foregoing particulars respecting the German occupation of Le Mans—they are principally derived from official documents—just to show the reader what one might expect if, for instance, a German force should land at Hull or Grimsby and fight its way successfully to—let us say—York or Leeds or Nottingham. The incidents which occurred at Le Mans were by no means peculiar to that town. Many similar instances occurred throughout the invaded regions of France. I certainly do not wish to impute gluttony to Prince Frederick Charles personally. But during the years which followed the Franco-German War I made three fairly long stays at Berlin, putting up at good hotels, where officers—sometimes generals—often lunched and dined. And their appetites frequently amazed me, whilst their manners at table were repulsive. In those days most German officers were bearded, and I noticed that between the courses at luncheon and at dinner it was a common practice of theirs to produce pocket-glasses and pocket-combs, and comb their beards—as well as the hair on their heads—over the table. As for their manner of eating and the noise they made in doing so, the less said the better. In regard to manners, I have always felt that the French of 1870-71 were in some respects quite entitled to call their enemies "barbarians"; but that was forty-three years ago, and as time works wonders, the manners of the German military element may have improved.

In saying something about the general appearance of Le Mans, I pointed out that the town now has a Place de la Republique, a Gambetta Bridge, a Rue Thiers, and a statue of Chanzy; but at the period of the war and for a long time afterwards it detested the Republic (invariably returning Bonapartist or Orleanist deputies), sneered at Gambetta, and hotly denounced the commander of the Loire Army. Its grievance against Chanzy was that he had made it his headquarters and given battle in its immediate vicinity. The conflict having ended disastrously for the French arms, the townsfolk lamented that it had ever taken place. Why had Chanzy brought his army there? they indignantly inquired. He might very well have gone elsewhere. So strong was this Manceau feeling against the general—a feeling inspired by the sufferings which the inhabitants experienced at the time, notably in consequence of the German exactions—that fifteen years later, when the general's statue (for which there had been a national subscription) was set up in the town, the displeasure there was very great, and the monument was subjected to the most shameful indignities. [At Nouart, his native place, there is another statue of Chanzy, which shows him pointing towards the east. On the pedestal is the inscription; "The generals who wish to obtain the baton of Marshal of France must seek it across the Rhine"—words spoken by him in one of his speeches subsequent to the war.] But all that has passed. Nowadays, both at Auvours and at Pontlieue, there are monuments to those who fell fighting for France around Le Mans, and doubtless the town, in becoming more Republican, has become more patriotic also.

Before relating how I escaped from Le Mans on the day when the retreat was ordered, there are a few other points with which I should like to deal briefly. It is tolerably well known that I made the English translation of Emile Zola's great novel, "La Debacle," and a good many of my present readers may have read that work either in the original French or in the version prepared by me. Now, I have always thought that some of the characters introduced by Zola into his narrative were somewhat exceptional. I doubt if there were many such absolutely neurotic degenerates as "Maurice" in the French Army at any period of the war. I certainly never came across such a character. Again, the psychology of Stephen Crane's "Red Badge of Courage," published a few years after "La Debacle," and received with acclamations by critics most of whom had never in their lives been under fire, also seems to me to be of an exceptional character. I much prefer the psychology of the Waterloo episode in Stendhal's "Chartreuse de Parme," because it is of more general application. "The Red Badge of Courage," so the critics told us, showed what a soldier exactly felt and thought in the midst of warfare. Unlike Stendhal, however, its author had never "served." No more had Zola; and I feel that many of the pictures which novelists have given us of a soldier's emotions when in action apply only to exceptional cases, and are even then somewhat exaggerated.

In action there is no time for thought. The most trying hours for a man who is in any degree of a sensitive nature are those spent in night-duty as a sentry or as one of a small party at some lonely outpost. Then thoughts of home and happiness, and of those one loves, may well arise. There is one little point in connexion with this subject which I must mention. Whenever letters were found on the bodies of men who fell during the Franco-German War, they were, if this man was a Frenchman, more usually letters from his mother, and, if he was a German, more usually letters from his sweetheart. Many such letters found their way into print during the course of the war. It is a well-known fact that a Frenchman's cult for his mother is a trait of the national character, and that a Frenchwoman almost always places her child before her husband.

But what struck me particularly during the Franco-German War was that the anxieties and mental sufferings of the French officers were much keener than those of the men. Many of those officers were married, some had young children, and in the silent hours of a lonely night-watch their thoughts often travelled to their dear ones. I well remember how an officer virtually unbosomed himself to me on this subject one night near Yvre-l'Eveque. The reason of it all is obvious. The higher a man's intelligence, the greater is his sense of responsibility and the force of his attachments. But in action the latter are set aside; they only obtrude at such times as I have said or else at the moment of death.

Of actual cowardice there were undoubtedly numerous instances during the war, but a great deal might be said in defence of many of the men who here and there abandoned their positions. During the last months their sufferings were frequently terrible. At best they were often only partially trained. There was little cohesion in many battalions. There was a great lack of efficient non-commissioned officers. Instead of drafting regular soldiers from the depots into special regiments, as was often done, it might have been better to have distributed them among the Mobiles and Mobilises, whom they would have steadied. Judging by all that I witnessed at that period, I consider it essential that any territorial force should always contain a certain number of trained soldiers who have previously been in action. And any such force should always have the support of regulars and of efficient artillery. I have related how certain Breton Mobilises abandoned La Tuilerie. They fled before the regulars or the artillery could support them; but they were, perhaps, the very rawest levies in all Chanzy's forces. Other Breton Mobilises, on other points, fought very well for men of their class. For instance, no reproach could be addressed to the battalions of St. Brieuo, Brest, Quimper, Lorient, and Nantes. They were better trained than were the men stationed at La Tuilerie, and it requires some time to train a Breton properly. That effected, he makes a good soldier.

Respecting my own feelings during that war, I may say that the paramount one was curiosity. To be a journalist, a man must be inquisitive. It is a sine qua non of his profession. Moreover, I was very young; I had no responsibilities; I may have been in love, or have thought I was, but I was on my own, and my chief desire was to see as much as I could. I willingly admit that, when Gougeard's column was abruptly attacked at Droue, I experienced some trepidation at finding myself under fire; but firmness may prove as contagious as fear, and when Gougeard rallied his men and went forward to repel the Germans, interest and a kind of excitement took possession of me. Moreover, as I was, at least nominally, attached to the ambulance service, there was duty to be done, and that left no opportunity for thought. The pictures of the ambulances in or near Sedan are among the most striking ones contained in "La Debacle," and, judging by what I saw elsewhere, Zola exaggerated nothing. The ambulance is the truly horrible side of warfare. To see men lying dead on the ground is, so to say, nothing. One gets used to it. But to see them amputated, and to see them lying in bed suffering, often acutely, from dreadful wounds, or horrible diseases—dysentery, typhus, small-pox—that is the thing which tries the nerves of all but the doctors and the trained nurses. On several occasions I helped to carry wounded men, and felt no emotion in doing so; but more than once I was almost overcome by the sight of all the suffering in some ambulance.

When, on the morning of January 12, I heard that a general retreat had been ordered, I hesitated as to what course I should pursue. I did not then anticipate the street-fighting, and the consequent violence of the Germans. But journalistic instinct told me that if I remained in the town until after the German entry I might then find it very difficult to get away and communicate with my people. At the same time, I did not think the German entry so imminent as proved to be the case; and I spent a considerable time in the streets watching all the tumult which prevailed there. Now and again a sadly diminished battalion went by in fairly good order. But numbers of disbanded men hurried hither and thither in confusion. Here and there a street was blocked with army vans and waggons, whose drivers were awaiting orders, not knowing which direction to take. Officers and estafettes galloped about on all sides. Then a number of wounded men were carried in carts, on stretchers, and on trucks towards the railway-station. Others, with their heads bandaged or their arms in slings, walked painfully in the same direction. Outside the station there was a strong cordon of Gendarmes striving to resist all the pressure of a great mob of disbanded men who wished to enter and get away in the trains. At one moment, when, after quite a struggle, some of the wounded were conveyed through the mob and the cordon, the disbanded soldiers followed, and many of them fought their way into the station in spite of all the efforts of the Gendarmes. The melee was so desperate that I did not attempt to follow, but, after watching it for some time, retraced my steps towards my lodging. All was hubbub and confusion at the little inn, and only with difficulty could I get anything to eat there. A little later, however, I managed to tell the landlord—his name was Dubuisson—that I meant to follow the army, and, if possible, secure a place in one of the trains which were frequently departing. After stowing a few necessaries away in my pockets, I begged him to take charge of my bag until some future day, and the worthy old man then gave me some tips as to how I might make my way into the station, by going a little beyond it, and climbing a palisade.

We condoled with one another and shook hands. I then went out. The cannonade, which had been going on for several hours, had now become more violent. Several shells had fallen on or near the Caserne de la Mission during the morning. Now others were falling near the railway-station. I went my way, however, turned to the right on quitting the Rue du Gue-de-Maulny, reached some palings, and got on to the railway-line. Skirting it, I turned to the left, going back towards the station. I passed one or two trains, which were waiting. But they were composed of trucks and closed vans. I might perhaps have climbed on to one of the former, but it was a bitterly cold day; and as for the latter, of course I could not hope to enter one of them. So I kept on towards the station, and presently, without let or hindrance, I reached one of the platforms.

Le Mans being an important junction, its station was very large, in some respects quite monumental. The principal part was roofed with glass and suggested Charing Cross. I do not remember exactly the number of lines of metals running through it, but I think there must have been four or five. There were two trains waiting there, one of them, which was largely composed of passenger carriages, being crammed with soldiers. I tried to get into one carriage, but was fiercely repulsed. So, going to the rear of this train, I crossed to another platform, where the second train was. This was made up of passenger coaches and vans. I scrambled into one of the latter, which was open. There were a number of packing-cases inside it, but there was at least standing room for several persons. Two railway men and two or three soldiers were already there. One of the former helped me to get in. I had, be it said, a semi-military appearance, for my grey frieze coat was frogged, and besides, what was more important, I wore the red-cross armlet given me at the time when I followed Gougeard's column.

Almost immediately afterwards the train full of soldiers got away. The cannonade was now very loud, and the glass roof above us constantly vibrated. Some minutes elapsed whilst we exchanged impressions. Then, all at once, a railway official—it may have been M. Piquet himself—rushed along the platform in the direction of the engine, shouting as he went: "Depechez! Depechez! Sauvez-vous!" At the same moment a stray artilleryman was seen hastening towards us; but suddenly there came a terrific crash of glass, a shell burst through the roof and exploded, and the unlucky artilleryman fell on the platform, evidently severely wounded. We were already in motion, however, and the line being dear, we got fairly swiftly across the viaduct spanning the Sarthe. This placed us beyond the reach of the enemy, and we then slowed down.

One or two more trains were got away after ours, the last one, I believe, being vainly assailed by some Uhlans before it had crossed the viaduct. The latter ought then to have been blown up, but an attempt to do so proved ineffectual. We went on very slowly on account of the many trains in front of us. Every now and again, too, there came a wearisome stop. It was bitterly cold, and it was in vain that we beat the tattoo with our feet in the hope of thereby warming them. The men with me were also desperately hungry, and complained of it so bitterly and so frequently, that, at last, I could not refrain from producing a little bread and meat which I had secured at Le Mans and sharing it with them. But it merely meant a bite for each of us. However, on stopping at last at Conlie station—some sixteen or seventeen miles from Le Mans—we all hastily scrambled out of the train, rushed into a little inn, and almost fought like wild beasts for scraps of food. Then on we went once more, still very slowly, still stopping again and again, sometimes for an hour at a stretch, until, half numbed by the cold, weary of stamping our feet, and still ravenous, we reached the little town of Sille-le-Guillaume, which is not more than eight or nine miles from Conlie.

At Sille I secured a tiny garret-like room at the crowded Hotel de la Croix d'Or, a third-rate hostelry, which was already invaded by officers, soldiers, railway officials, and others who had quitted Le Mans before I had managed to do so. My comparatively youthful appearance won for me, however, the good favour of the buxom landlady, who, after repeatedly declaring to other applicants that she had not a corner left in the whole house, took me aside and said in an undertone: "listen, I will put you in a little cabinet upstairs. I will show you the way by and by. But don't tell anybody." And she added compassionately: "Mon pauvre garcon, you look frozen. Go into the kitchen. There is a good fire there, and you will get something to eat."

Truth to tell, the larder was nearly empty, but I secured a little cheese and some bread and some very indifferent wine, which, however, in my then condition, seemed to me to be nectar. I helped myself to a bowl, I remember, and poured about a pint of wine into it, so as to soak my bread, which was stale and hard. Toasting my feet at the fire whilst I regaled myself with that improvised soupe-au-vin, I soon felt warm and inspirited once more. Hardship sits on one but lightly when one is only seventeen years of age and stirred by early ambition. All the world then lay before me, like mine oyster, to be opened by either sword or pen.

At a later hour, by the light of a solitary guttering candle, in the little cabinet upstairs, I wrote, as best I could, an account of the recent fighting and the loss of Le Mans; and early on the following morning I prevailed on a railway-man who was going to Rennes to post my packet there, in order that it might be forwarded to England via Saint Malo. The article appeared in the Pall Mall Gazette, filling a page of that journal, and whatever its imperfections may have been, it was undoubtedly the first detailed account of the battle of Le Mans, from the French side, to appear in the English Press. It so happened, indeed, that the other correspondents with the French forces, including my cousin Montague Vizetelly of The Daily News, lingered at Le Mans until it was too late for them to leave the town, the Germans having effected their entry.

German detachments soon started in pursuit of the retreating Army of the Loire. Chanzy, as previously mentioned, modified his plans, in accordance with Gambetta's views, on the evening of January 12. The new orders were that the 16th Army Corps should retreat on Laval by way of Chassille and Saint Jean-sur-Erve, that the 17th, after passing Conlie, should come down to Sainte Suzanne, and that the 21st should proceed from Conlie to Sille-le-Guillaume. There were several rear-guard engagements during, the retreat. Already on the 13th, before the 21st Corps could modify its original line of march, it had to fight at Ballon, north of Le Mans. On the next day one of its detachments, composed of 9000 Mobilises of the Mayenne, was attacked at Beaumont-sur-Sarthe, and hastily fell back, leaving 1400 men in the hands of the Germans, who on their side lost only nine! Those French soldiers who retreated by way of Conlie partially pillaged the abandoned stores there. A battalion of Mobiles, on passing that way, provided themselves with new trousers, coats, boots, and blankets, besides carrying off a quantity of bread, salt-pork, sugar, and other provisions. These things were at least saved from the Germans, who on reaching the abandoned camp found there a quantity of military materiel, five million cartridges, 1500 cases of biscuits and extract of meat, 180 barrels of salt-pork, a score of sacks of rice, and 140 puncheons of brandy.

On January 14 the 21st Corps under Jaures reached Sille-le-Guillaume, and was there attacked by the advanced guard of the 13th German Corps under the Grand Duke of Mecklenburg. The French offered a good resistance, however, and the Germans retreated on Conlie. I myself had managed to leave Sille the previous afternoon, but such was the block on the line that our train could get no farther than Voutre, a village of about a thousand souls. Railway travelling seeming an impossibility, I prevailed on a farmer to give me a lift as far as Sainte Suzanne, whence I hoped to cut across country in the direction of Laval. Sainte Suzanne is an ancient and picturesque little town which in those days still had a rampart and the ruins of an early feudal castle. I supped and slept at an inn there, and was told in the morning (January 14) that it would be best for me to go southward towards Saint Jean-sur-Erve, where I should strike the direct highway to Laval, and might also be able to procure a conveyance. I did not then know the exact retreating orders. I hoped to get out of the way of all the troops and waggons encumbering the roads, but in this I was doomed to disappointment, for at Saint Jean I fell in with them again.

That day a part of the rear-guard of the 16th Corps (Jaureguiberry)—that is, a detachment of 1100 men with a squadron of cavalry under General Le Bouedec—had been driven out of Chassille by the German cavalry under General von Schmidt. This had accelerated the French retreat, which continued in the greatest confusion, all the men hastening precipitately towards Saint Jean, where, after getting the bulk of his force on to the heights across the river Erve, which here intersects the highway, Jaureguiberry resolved on attempting to check the enemy's pursuit. Though the condition of most of the men was lamentable, vigorous defensive preparations were made on the night of the 14th and the early morning of the following day. On the low ground, near the village and the river, trees were felled and roads were barricaded; while on the slopes batteries were disposed behind hedges, in which embrasures were cut. The enemy's force was, I believe, chiefly composed of cavalry and artillery. The latter was already firing at us when Jaureguiberry rode along our lines. A shell exploded near him, and some splinters of the projectile struck his horse in the neck, inflicting a ghastly, gaping wound. The poor beast, however, did not fall immediately, but galloped on frantically for more than a score of yards, then suddenly reared, and after doing so came down, all of a heap, upon the snow. However, the Admiral, who was a good horseman, speedily disengaged himself, and turned to secure another mount—when he perceived that Colonel Beraud, his chief of staff, who had been riding behind him, had been wounded by the same shell, and had fallen from his horse. I saw the Colonel being carried to a neighbouring farmhouse, and was afterwards told that he had died there.

The engagement had no very decisive result, but Schmidt fell back to the road connecting Sainte Suzanne with Thorigne-en-Charnie, whilst we withdrew towards Soulge-le-Bruant, about halfway between Saint Jean and Laval. During the fight, however, whilst the artillery duel was in progress, quite half of Jaureguiberry's men had taken themselves off without waiting for orders. I believe that on the night of January 15 he could not have mustered more than 7000 men for action. Yet only two days previously he had had nearly three times that number with him.

Nevertheless, much might be pleaded for the men. The weather was still bitterly cold, snow lay everywhere, little or no food could be obtained, the commissariat refraining from requisitioning cattle at the farms, for all through the departments for Mayenne and Ille-et-Vilaine cattle-plague was raging. Hungry, emaciated, faint, coughing incessantly, at times affected with small-pox, the men limped or trudged on despairingly. Their boots were often in a most wretched condition; some wore sabots, others, as I said once before, merely had rags around their poor frost-bitten feet. And the roads were obstructed by guns, vans, waggons, vehicles of all kinds. Sometimes an axle had broken, sometimes a horse had fallen dead on the snow, in any case one or another conveyance had come to a standstill, and prevented others from pursuing their route. I recollect seeing hungry men cutting steaks from the flanks of the dead beasts, sometimes devouring the horseflesh raw, at others taking it to some cottage, where the avaricious peasants, who refused to part with a scrap of food, at least had to let these cold and hungry men warm themselves at a fire, and toast their horseflesh before it. At one halt three soldiers knocked a peasant down because he vowed that he could not even give them a pinch of salt. That done, they rifled his cupboards and ate all they could find.

Experience had taught me a lesson. I had filled my pockets with ham, bread, hard-boiled eggs, and other things, before leaving Sainte Suzanne. I had also obtained a meal at Saint Jean, and secured some brandy there, and I ate and drank sparingly and surreptitiously whilst I went on, overtaking one after another batch of weary soldiers. However, the distance between Saint Jean and Laval is not very great. Judging by the map, it is a matter of some twenty-five miles at the utmost. Moreover, I walked only half the distance. The troops moved so slowly that I reached Soulge-le-Bruant long before them, and there induced a man to drive me to Laval. I was there on the afternoon of January 16, and as from this point trains were still running westward, I reached Saint Servan on the following day. Thus I slipped through to my goal, thereby justifying the nickname of L'Anguille—the Eel—which some of my young French friends had bestowed on me.

A day or two previously my father had returned from England, and I found him with my stepmother. He became very much interested in my story, and talked of going to Laval himself. Further important developments might soon occur, the Germans might push on to Chanzy's new base, and I felt that I also ought to go back. The life I had been leading either makes or mars a man physically. Personally, I believe that it did me a world of good. At all events, it was settled that my father and myself should go to Laval together. We started a couple of days later, and managed to travel by rail as far as Rennes. But from that point to Laval the line was now very badly blocked, and so we hired a closed vehicle, a ramshackle affair, drawn by two scraggy Breton nags. The main roads, being still crowded with troops, artillery, and baggage waggons, and other impedimenta, were often impassable, and so we proceeded by devious ways, amidst which our driver lost himself, in such wise that at night we had to seek a shelter at the famous Chateau des Bochers, immortalized by Mme. de Sevigne, and replete with precious portraits of herself, her own and her husband's families, in addition to a quantity of beautiful furniture dating from her time.

It took us, I think, altogether two days to reach Laval, where, after securing accommodation at one of the hotels, we went out in search of news, having heard none since we had started on our journey. Perceiving a newspaper shop, we entered it, and my father insisted on purchasing a copy of virtually every journal which was on sale there. Unfortunately for us, this seemed highly suspicious to a local National Guard who was in the shop, and when we left it he followed us. My father had just then begun to speak to me in English, and at the sound of a foreign tongue the man's suspicions increased. So he drew nearer, and demanded to know who and what we were. I replied that we were English and that I had previously been authorised to accompany the army as a newspaper correspondent. My statements, however, were received with incredulity by this suspicious individual, who, after one or two further inquiries, requested us to accompany him to a guard-house standing near one of the bridges thrown over the river Mayenne.

Thither we went, followed by several people who had assembled during our parley, and found ourselves before a Lieutenant of Gendarmes, on the charge of being German spies. Our denouncer was most positive on the point. Had we not bought at least a dozen newspapers? Why a dozen, when sensible people would have been satisfied with one? Such extensive purchases must surely have been prompted by some sinister motive. Besides, he had heard us conversing in German. English, indeed! No, no! He was certain that we had spoken German, and was equally certain of our guilt.

The Lieutenant looked grave, and my explanations did not quite satisfy him. The predicament was the more awkward as, although my father was provided with a British passport, I had somehow left my precious military permit at Saint Servan, Further, my father carried with him some documents which might have been deemed incriminating, They were, indeed, safe-conducts signed by various German generals, which had been used by us conjointly while passing, through the German lines after making our way out of Paris in November. As for my correspondent's permit, signed some time previously by the Chief of the Staff, I had been unable to find it when examining my papers on our way to Laval, but had consoled myself with the thought that I might get it replaced at headquarters. [The red-cross armlet which had repeatedly proved so useful to me, enabling me to come and go without much interference, was at our hotel, in a bag we had brought with us.] Could I have shown it to the Lieutenant, he might have ordered our release. As it happened, he decided to send us to the Provost Marshal. I was not greatly put out by that command, for I remembered the officer in question, or thought I did, and felt convinced that everything would speedily be set right.

We started off in the charge of a brigadier-otherwise a corporal—of Gendarmes, and four men, our denouncer following closely at our heels. My father at once pointed out to me that the brigadier and one of the men wore silver medals bearing the effigy of Queen Victoria, so I said to the former, "You were in the Crimea. You are wearing our Queen's medal."

"Yes," he replied, "I gained that at the Alma."

"And your comrade?"

"He won his at the Tohernaya."

"I dare say you would have been glad if French and English had fought side by side in this war?" I added. "Perhaps they ought to have done so."

"Parbleu! The English certainly owed us a bon coup de main, instead of which they have only sold us broken-down horses and bad boots."

I agreed that there had been some instances of the kind. A few more words passed, and I believe that the brigadier became convinced of our English nationality. But as his orders were to take us to the Provost's, thither we were bound to go. An ever increasing crowd followed. Shopkeepers and other folk came to their doors and windows, and the words, "They are spies, German spies!" rang out repeatedly, exciting the crowd and rendering it more and more hostile. For a while we followed a quay with granite parapets, below which flowed the Mayenne, laden with drifting ice. All at once, however, I perceived on our left a large square, where about a hundred men of the Laval National Guard were being exercised. They saw us appear with our escort, they saw the crowd which followed us, and they heard the cries, "Spies! German spies!" Forthwith, with that disregard for discipline which among the French was so characteristic of the period, they broke their ranks and ran towards us.

We were only able to take a few more steps. In vain did the Gendarmes try to force a way through the excited mob. We were surrounded by angry, scowling, vociferating men. Imprecations burst forth, fists were clenched, arms were waved, rifles were shaken, the unruly National Guards being the most eager of all to denounce and threaten us. "Down with the spies!" they shouted. "Down with the German pigs! Give them to us! Let us shoot them!"

A very threatening rush ensued, and I was almost carried off my feet. But in another moment I found myself against the parapet of the quay, with my father beside me, and the icy river in the rear. In front of us stood the brigadier and his four men guarding us from the angry citizens of Laval.

"Hand them over to us! We will settle their affair," shouted an excited National Guard. "You know that they are spies, brigadier."

"I know that I have my orders," growled the veteran. "I am taking them to the Provost. It is for him to decide."

"That is too much ceremony," was the retort. "Let us shoot them!"

"But they are not worth a cartridge!" shouted another man. "Throw them into the river!"

That ominous cry was taken up. "Yes, yes, to the river with them!" Then came another rush, one so extremely violent that our case seemed desperate.

But the brigadier and his men had managed to fix bayonets during the brief parley, and on the mob being confronted by five blades of glistening steel, its savage eagerness abated. Moreover, the old brigadier behaved magnificently. "Keep back!" cried he. "I have my orders. You will have to settle me before you take my prisoners!"

Just then I caught the eye of one of the National Guards, who was shaking his fist at us, and I said to him, "You are quite mistaken. We are not Germans, but English!"

"Yes, yes, Anglais, Anglais!" my father exclaimed.

While some of the men in the crowd were more or less incredulously repeating that statement, a black-bearded individual—whom I can, at this very moment, still picture with my mind's eye, so vividly did the affair impress me—climbed on to the parapet near us, and called out, "You say you are English? Do you know London? Do you know Regent Street? Do you know the Soho?"

"Yes, yes!" we answered quickly.

"You know the Lei-ces-terre Square? What name is the music-hall there?"

"Why, the Alhambra!" The "Empire," let me add, did not exist in those days.

The man seemed satisfied. "I think they are English," he said to his friends. But somebody else exclaimed, "I don't believe it. One of them is wearing a German hat."

Now, it happened that my father had returned from London wearing a felt hat of a shape which was then somewhat fashionable there, and which, curiously enough, was called the "Crown Prince," after the heir to the Prussian throne—that is, our Princess Royal's husband, subsequently the Emperor Frederick. The National Guard, who spoke a little English, wished to inspect this incriminating hat, so my father took it off, and one of the Gendarmes, having placed it on his bayonet, passed it to the man on the parapet. When the latter had read "Christy, London," on the lining, he once more testified in our favour.

But other fellows also wished to examine the suspicious headgear, and it passed from hand to hand before it was returned to my father in a more or less damaged condition, Even then a good many men were not satisfied respecting our nationality, but during that incident of the hat—a laughable one to me nowadays, though everything looked very ugly when it occurred—there had been time for the men's angry passions to cool, to a considerable extent at all events; and after that serio-comical interlude, they were much less eager to inflict on us the summary law of Lynch. A further parley ensued, and eventually the Gendarmes, who still stood with bayonets crossed in front of us, were authorized, by decision of the Sovereign People, to take us to the Provost's. Thither we went, then, amidst a perfect procession of watchful guards and civilians.

Directly we appeared before the Provost, I realized that our troubles were not yet over. Some changes had taken place during the retreat, and either the officer whom I remembered having seen at Le Mans (that is, Colonel Mora) had been replaced by another, or else the one before whom we now appeared was not the Provost-General, but only the Provost of the 18th Corps. At all events, he was a complete stranger to me. After hearing, first, the statements of the brigadier and the National Guard who had denounced us, and who had kept close to us all the time, and, secondly, the explanations supplied by my father and myself, he said to me, "If you had a staff permit to follow the army, somebody at headquarters must be able to identify you."

"I think that might be done," I answered, "by Major-General Feilding, who—as you must know—accompanies the army on behalf of the British Government. Personally, I am known to several officers of the 21st Corps— General Gougeard and his Chief of Staff, for instance—and also to some of the aides-de-camp at headquarters."

"Well, get yourselves identified, and obtain a proper safe-conduct," said the Provost. "Brigadier, you are to take these men to headquarters. If they are identified there, you will let them go. If not, take them to the chateau (the prison), and report to me."

Again we all set out, this time climbing the hilly ill-paved streets of old Laval, above which the town's great feudal castle reared its dark, round keep; and presently we came to the local college, formerly an Ursuline convent, where Chanzy had fixed his headquarters.

In one of the large class-rooms were several officers, one of whom immediately recognized me. He laughed when he heard our story. "I was arrested myself, the other day," he said, "because I was heard speaking in English to your General Feilding. And yet I was in uniform, as I am now."

The Gendarmes were promptly dismissed, though not before my father had slipped something into the hand of the old brigadier for himself and his comrades. Their firmness had saved us, for when a mob's passions are inflamed by patriotic zeal, the worst may happen to the objects of its wrath.

A proper safe-conduct (which I still possess) was prepared by an aide-de-camp on duty, and whilst he was drafting it, an elderly but bright-eyed officer entered, and went up to a large circular stove to warm himself. Three small stars still glittered faintly on his faded cap, and six rows of narrow tarnished gold braid ornamented the sleeves of his somewhat shabby dolman. It was Chanzy himself.

He noticed our presence, and our case was explained to him. Looking at me keenly, he said, "I think I have seen you before. You are the young English correspondent who was allowed to make some sketches at Yvre-l'Eveque, are you not?"

"Yes, mon general," I answered, saluting. "You gave me permission through, I think, Monsieur le Commandant de Boisdeffre."

He nodded pleasantly as we withdrew, then lapsed into a thoughtful attitude.

Out we went, down through old Laval and towards the new town, my father carrying the safe-conduct in his hand. The Gendarmes must have already told people that we were "all right," for we now encountered only pleasant faces. Nevertheless, we handed the safe-conduct to one party of National Guards for their inspection, in order that their minds might be quite at rest. That occurred outside the hospital, where at that moment I little imagined that a young Englishman—a volunteer in the Sixth Battalion of the Cotes-du-Nord Mobile Guards (21st Army Corps)—was lying invalided by a chill, which he had caught during an ascent in our army balloon with Gaston Tissandier. Since then that young Englishman has become famous as Field-Marshal Viscount Kitchener of Khartoum.

But the National Guards insisted on carrying my father and myself to the chief cafe of Laval. They would take no refusal. In genuine French fashion, they were all anxiety to offer some amends for their misplaced patriotic impulsiveness that afternoon, when they had threatened, first, to shoot, and, next, to drown us. In lieu thereof they now deluged us with punch a la francaise, and as the cafe soon became crowded with other folk who all joined our party, there ensued a scene which almost suggested that some glorious victory had been gained at last by invaded and unfortunate France.