Brigadier Frederick, The Dean's Watch

XXIX

Do I need to describe to you now the desolation of that poor Phalsbourg, formerly so neat, the little houses so well built, the large parade ground, so gay on review day? Must I tell you of the houses fallen over on each other, the gables overturned, the chimneys in the air amid the ruins; and of the taverns filled with Germans, eating, drinking and laughing, while we, with long faces, looking scared, wretched and ragged after all these disasters, saw these intruders enjoying themselves with their big pay taken out of our pockets? No, only at the thought of it, my heart sickens; it is a thousand times worse than all that people relate.

As I reached the corner of the parade ground, opposite the church tower, which was still standing, with its cracked bells and its virgin with uplifted arms, a harsh voice called from the state-house:

"Heraus!"4

It was the sergeant of the station who was ordering his men to go out; the patrolling officer was coming, the others hastened from the guard-house and formed the ranks; it was noon. I had halted in consternation before the Café Vacheron. A crowd of poor people, homeless, without work and without food, were walking backward and forward, shivering with their hands in their pockets up to the elbows; and I, knowing from what Thomé had said that the military hospital and the college were crowded with the sick, asked myself if I could find a doctor to visit at Graufthal a poor old woman at the point of death. I was overwhelmed with sadness and doubt. I did not know to whom to address myself or what to do, when an old friend of the forest house, Jacob Bause, the first trout fisher of the valley, began to call behind me:

"Hallo! it is Father Frederick? Then you are still in the land of the living?"

He shook hands and seemed so glad to see me that I was touched by it.

"Yes," said I, "we have escaped, thank God. When one meets people now one almost thinks that they have been resuscitated. Unfortunately grandmother is very ill and I do not know where to find a doctor in the midst of this confusion."

He advised me to go to Dr. Simperlin, who lived on the first floor of the Café Vacheron, saying that he was a good and learned man, and a true Frenchman, who would not refuse to accompany me, in spite of the length of the road and the work he had in the town, at the time of this extraordinary press of business. So I went up stairs; and Dr. Simperlin, who was just sitting down to dinner, promised to come as soon as he had finished his repast. Then, feeling a little more easy, I went down stairs into the large coffee room, to take a crust of bread and a glass of wine, while waiting for him. The room was filled with landwehr; fat citizens in uniform, brewers, architects, farmers, bankers, and hotel-keepers, come to take possession of the country under the command of the Prussian chiefs, who made them march like puppets.

All these people had their pockets full of money, and to forget the unpleasantness of their discipline they ate as many sausages with sauerkraut, and as much ham and salad with cervelats as our veterans used formerly to drink glasses of brandy. Some drank beer, others champagne or burgundy, each according to their means, of course without offering any to their comrades – that is understood; they all ate with two hands, their mouths open to the ears, and their noses in their plates; and all that I say to you is, that as this muddy, rainy weather prevented us from opening the windows, one had sometimes to go outside in order to breathe.

I seated myself in one corner with my mug of beer, looking at the tobacco smoke curling round the ceiling, and the servants bringing in what was wanted, thinking of the sick grandmother, of the ruins that I had just seen, listening to the Germans, whom I did not understand, for they spoke an entirely different tongue from that of Alsace; and at the other end of the room some Phalsbourgers were talking of an assistance bureau that was being organized at the State House, of a soup kitchen that they wished to establish in the old cavalry barracks, for the poor; of the indemnities promised by the Prussians, and on which they counted but little.

The time passed slowly. I had ended by not listening at all, thinking of my own misery, when a louder, bolder voice drew me from my reflections; I looked: it was Toubac, the station-master of Bockberg, who was interrupting the conversation of the Phalsbourgers, who cried, audaciously thumping the table with his big fist:

"It is all very well for you, city people, to talk now about the miseries of war. You were behind your ramparts, and when the shells came you ran into your casemates. No one could take anything from you. Those whose houses are burned will receive larger indemnities than they are worth; the old, worm-eaten furniture will be replaced by new, and more than one whose tongue was hanging before the campaign can rub his hands and stick out his stomach, saying: 'The war has made me a solid citizen; I have paid my debts and I pass for a famous warrior because my cellar was bullet proof. I will devote myself to staying in my country to buy cheap the goods of those who are going away with the money from my indemnities; I will sacrifice myself to the end as I have done from the beginning.' Yes, that kind of war is agreeable; behind strong walls all goes well. While we poor peasants, we were obliged to feed the enemies, to give them hay, straw, barley, oats, wheat, and even our cattle, do you hear? – our last resource. They took my two cows, and now who shall I ask to repay me for them?"

This was too much. When he said that, the effrontery of the rascal made me so indignant that I could not help calling to him from my place:

"Ah! wicked scoundrel, do you dare to boast of your sufferings and of your noble conduct during our misfortunes? Speak of your sacrifices and the good example that your daughters set. Tell those gentlemen how, having searched the country with a squad of Germans, who gave you your choice among all the animals of the mountains and the plain, to replace your wretched beasts, after having stolen, by this means, my two beautiful Swiss cows, you are not yet satisfied. You dare to complain, and to undervalue honest folk who have done their duty?"

As I spoke, thinking that this rascal was the cause of the grandmother's illness, I grew more and more angry; I would have restrained myself, but it was too much for me, and all at once, seizing my stick with both hands, I rushed upon him to knock him down.

Fortunately, Fixeri, the baker, who was sitting beside this rascal, seeing my uplifted stick, parried the blow with his chair, saying:

"Father Frederick, what are you thinking about?"

This had a terrible effect; all the room was in a commotion and trying to separate us. He, the thief, finding himself behind the others, shook his fist at me and cried:

"Old rascal! I will make you pay for that! The Germans would have nothing to do with you. The Oberförster turned you out. You would have liked to have served under them, but they knew you; they slammed the door in your face. That annoys you. You insult honest people; but look out, you will hear from me soon."

These astounding lies made me still more furious; it took five or six men to hold me, so as to prevent me from getting at him.

I should have ended by turning everything upside down, if the landwehr had not called a party of watchmen who were passing along the road. Then, hearing the butt ends of the muskets as they were grounded at the door, and seeing the helmets in front of the window, I sat down again, and everything calmed down.

The corporal came in; Mme. Vacheron made him take a glass of wine at the bar, and as the noise had ceased, after wiping his mustaches, he went out, making the military salute. But Toubac and I looked at each other with sparkling eyes and quivering lips. He knew, the wretch, that now his shame would be discovered all through the city, and that made him beside himself with rage.

As for me, I thought, "Only manage to be in my way going to Biechelberg; I will pay you off for all that you have done; the poor grandmother will be avenged."

He, doubtless, had the same thoughts, for he looked at me sideways, with his rascally smile. I was very glad when Dr. Simperlin appeared on the threshold of the room, making me a sign to follow him.

I left at once, after having paid for my glass of wine, and we set out for Graufthal.

XXX

You know, George, how much bad weather adds to one's melancholy. It was sleeting, the great ruts full of water were ruffled by the wind. Dr. Simperlin and I walked for a long time in silence, one behind the other, taking care to avoid the puddles in which one could sink up to his knees.

Farther on, after having passed the Biechelberg, on the firmer ground of the forest, I told the doctor about the offers that the Oberförster had made to us, and the refusal of all our guards except Jacob Hepp; of our leaving the forest house, and of our little establishment at Ykel's, in a cold corner of the wretched inn, under the rocks, where the grandmother had not ceased to cough for six weeks.

He listened to me with bent head, and said at the end that it was very hard to leave one's home, one's fields, one's meadows, and the trees that one has planted; but that one should never draw back before one's duty; and that he also was about to leave the country with his wife and children, abandoning his practice, the fruit of his labour for many years, so as not to become one of the herd of King William.

Talking thus, about three o'clock, we reached the wretched tavern of Graufthal. We ascended the little staircase. Marie-Rose had heard us; she was at the door, and hastened to offer a chair to Dr. Simperlin.

The doctor looked at the black beams of the ceiling, the narrow windows, the little stove, and said:

"It is very small and very dark for people accustomed to the open air."

He was thinking of our pretty house in the valley, with its large, shining windows, its white walls. Ah! the times had changed sadly.

At last, having rested for a few minutes, to get his breath, he said:

"Let us go see the invalid."

We entered the little side room together. The day was declining; we had to light the lamp, and the doctor, leaning over the bed, looked at the poor old woman, saying:

"Well, grandmother Anne, I was passing by Graufthal, and Father Frederick beckoned me in; he told me that you were not very well."

Then the grandmother, entirely aroused, recognised him and answered:

"Ah! it is you, M. Simperlin. Yes, yes; I have suffered, and I suffer still. God grant it will soon be over!"

She was so yellow, so wrinkled and so thin, that one thought when one looked at her:

"Good heavens, how can our poor lady continue to exist in such a condition!"

And her hair, formerly gray, now white as snow, her hollow cheeks, her eyes glittering, and a forehead all shrivelled with wrinkles, made her, so to speak, unrecognisable.

The doctor questioned her; she answered very well to all his questions. He listened with his ear at her chest, and then at her back, while I held her up. At last he said, smiling:

"Well, well, grandmother, we are not yet in danger. This bad cold will pass away with the winter; only you must keep yourself warm, and not give way to sad thoughts. You will soon return to the forest house; all this cannot last."

"Yes, yes," said she, looking at us. "I hope that all will come right; but I am very old."

"Bah! when one has kept up like you, is one old? All this has been caused by a draught; you must take care of draughts, Mlle. Marie-Rose. Come, keep up your courage, grandmother."

So said the doctor; the grandmother seemed a little reassured.

We left the room, and outside, when I was questioning him and my daughter was listening, Dr. Simperlin asked me:

"Shall I speak before Mlle. Marie-Rose?"

"Yes," I answered, "for my poor daughter takes care of the invalid, and she ought to know all; if the illness is serious, if we are to lose the last creature who loves us and whom we love – well, it is always best to know it beforehand, than to be struck by the misfortune without having been warned."

"Well," said he, "the poor woman is ill not only because of her old age, but principally because of the grief which is sapping her constitution. She has something preying upon her mind, and it is that which makes her cough. Take care not to grieve her; hide your troubles from her. Always look gay before her. Tell her that you have strong hopes. If she looks at you, smile at her. If she is uneasy, tell her it is nothing. Let no one come in, for fear they should tell her bad news; that is the best remedy I can give you."

While he spoke, Marie-Rose, who was very much alarmed, was coughing behind her hand, with a little hacking cough; he interrupted himself, and, looking at her, he said:

"Have you coughed like that for any length of time, Mlle. Marie-Rose?"

"For some time," she answered, flushing.

Then he took her arm and felt her pulse, saying as he did so:

"You must be careful and look after yourself, too; this place is not healthy. Have you fever at nights?"

"No, sir."

"Well, so much the better; but you must take care of yourself; you must think as little as possible of sad things."

Having said that, he took his hat from my bed and his cane from the corner, and said to me, as we were descending the stairs together:

"You must come to the city to-morrow, and you will find a little bottle at the shop of Reeb, the apothecary; you must give three drops of it, in a glass of water, morning and evening, to the grandmother; it is to calm that suffocating feeling; and look after your daughter, too; she is very much changed. When I remember Marie-Rose, as fresh and as healthy as she was, six months ago, it makes me uneasy. Take care of her."

"Gracious Heavens!" said I to myself, in despair; "take care of her! Yes, yes, if I could give her my own existence; but how take care of people who are overwhelmed by fears, grief, and regrets?"

And, thinking of it, I could have cried like a child. M. Simperlin saw it, and, on the threshold, shaking my hand, he said:

"We, too, are very sick; is it not so, Father Frederick? Yes, terribly sick. Our hearts are breaking; each thought kills us; but we are men; we must have courage enough for everybody."

I wanted to accompany him at least to the end of the valley, for the night had come; but he refused, saying:

"I know the way. Go up stairs, Father Frederick, and be calm before your mother and your daughter; it is necessary."

He then went away and I returned to our apartments.

XXXI

Two or three days passed away. I had gone to the town to get the potion that the doctor had ordered from Reeb, the apothecary; the grandmother grew calmer; she coughed less; we talked to her only of peace, tranquility, and the return of Jean Merlin, and the poor woman was slowly recovering; when, one morning, two Prussian gens-d'armes stopped at the inn; as those people usually passed on without halting, it surprised me, and, a few moments later, Father Ykel's daughter came to tell me to go down stairs, that some one was asking for me.

When I went down, I found those two tall fellows, with jack-boots, standing in the middle of the room; their helmets almost touched the ceiling. They asked me if they were speaking to the person known as Frederick, formerly the brigadier forester of Tömenthal. I answered in the affirmative; and one of them, taking off his big gloves, in order to fumble in his knapsack, gave me a letter, which I read at once.

It was an order from the commander of Phalsbourg to leave the country within twenty-four hours!

You understand, George, what an impression that made on me; I turned pale and asked what could have drawn upon me so terrible a sentence.

"That is no affair of ours," answered one of the gens-d'armes. "Try to obey, or we will have to take other measures."

Thereupon they mounted their horses again and rode off; and Father Ykel, alone with me, seeing me cast down and overwhelmed by such an abomination, not knowing himself what to say, or to think, cried out:

"In the name of Heaven, Frederick, what have you been doing? You are not a man of any importance, and, in our little village, I should have thought they would have forgotten you long ago!"

I made no reply; I remembered nothing; I thought only of the grief of my daughter and of the poor old grandmother when they learned of this new misfortune.

However, at last I remembered my imprudent words at the Café Vacheron, the day of my dispute with Toubac; and Father Ykel at the first word told me that it all came from that; that Toubac had certainly denounced me; that there was only one thing left for me to do, and that was to go at once to the commander and beg him to grant me a little time, in consideration of the grandmother, over eighty years of age, seriously ill, and who would certainly die on the road. He also sent for the schoolmaster, and gave me, as Mayor of the parish, a regular attestation concerning my good qualities, my excellent antecedents, the unhappy position of our family; in short, he said all the most touching and the truest things that could be said on such an occasion. He also recommended me to go to M. Simperlin, too, and get a certificate of illness, to confirm his attestation, thinking that thus the commander would be touched and would wait till the poor old woman was well enough to travel.

In my trouble, seeing nothing else to do, I set out. Marie-Rose knew nothing of it, nor the grandmother, either; I had not the courage to announce the blow that was threatening us. To set out alone, to fly far away from those savages, who coolly plunged us into all sorts of miseries, would have been nothing to me; but the others! Ah! I dared not think of it!

Before noon I was at Phalsbourg, in a frightful state of wretchedness; all the misfortunes that crushed us rose before my eyes.

I saw the doctor, who declared simply in his certificate that the invalid, who was old, weak, and, moreover, entirely without resources, could not stand a journey, even of two hours, without dying.

"There," said he, giving me the paper, "that is the exact truth. I might add that your departure will kill her also, but that would be nothing to the commander; if this does not touch his heart, the rest would be useless also."

I went then to the commander's quarters, which were in the old government house, in the Rue du College. The humiliation of addressing supplications to rascals whom I detested was not the least of my sorrows; that I, an old French forester, an old servant of the state, gray-headed and on the point of retiring on a pension, should stoop to implore compassion from enemies as hard-hearted, as proud of their victories, gained by sheer force of numbers, as they were! However, for the grandmother, for the widow of old Burat, I could bear everything.

A tall rogue, in uniform, and with red whiskers, made me wait a long time in the vestibule; they were at breakfast, and only about one o'clock was I allowed to go up stairs. Up there another sentinel stopped me, and then, having received permission to enter a rather large room, opening on the garden of the Arsenal, I knocked at the commander's door, who told me to come in. I saw a large, red-faced man, who was walking to and fro, smoothing down the sleeves of his uniform and puffing out his cheeks in an ill-natured way. I told him humbly of my position, and gave him my certificates, which he did not even take the trouble to read, but flung them on the table.

"That has nothing at all to do with it," said he sharply; "you are described as a dangerous person, a determined enemy of the Germans. You prevented your men from entering our service; your son-in-law has gone to join the bandits of Gambetta. You boasted openly in a restaurant of having refused the offers of the Oberförster of Zornstadt; that is four times more than is necessary to deserve being turned out of doors."