Early in the afternoon we came to Ferrières, where having dined, so to call it, we paid a visit to the splendid château of M. de Rothschild. Unheeded and unhindered, we roamed through this lovely demesne, marvelling at the beauty of house and grounds which, as all the world knows, would not disgrace the abode of royalty. The mansion of cut stone, the terraces with their marble statues, the flower-gardens, shrubberies, stables,—these last, a wonder in themselves,—all were in perfect preservation. Not a stick or a stone in the whole place had been touched by the Prussians, nor did a soldier set foot in it. Such was the good pleasure of William I. who had taken up his quarters here, such the reverence paid to the kings of finance by the House of Hohenzollern!
We started again on our journey, but had proceeded only half a mile, when we fell in with a train of siege guns, some of them drawn by six horses. They were on the road to Paris, and would do service there. I remarked that some of the smaller guns were of brass, and shone in the sun like gold.
The country we passed through was charmingly wooded, and looked pretty enough in its garment of snow. It was night when we arrived at Lagny. On demanding our billet, we were directed to the sick officers' quarters, in the upper portion of the station house, where we should find plenty of room. There we came upon two of our friends who had been quartered at Orleans. They, also, were on their way out of France, and we engaged to make a party of it. At four o'clock next morning a couple of soldiers called us, and at five we started. There were several officers in the carriage, from whom Sherwell and I received every civility. Passing Meaux we arrived at Épernay, and later on traversed the great camp at Châlons, which now presented a vast and beaten plain of enormous extent. By way of Vitry and Chaumont we came on to Toul and Nancy, of the fortifications round both of which we got an excellent view, in particular at Nancy, where we halted for some time, and were able to look about us.
None of these places, however, was of so much interest to me as the little town of Lunéville. I knew nothing of the famous treaty concluded there by the First Consul, and had never heard of the Court of King Stanislaus, or of Voltaire and Madame la Marquise du Châtelet, in connection with it; I simply admired the view. Lunéville is situated on a hill, with some of its fortifications overlooking a steep precipice which serves as a natural protection for perhaps a third of its extent. From the railway which runs along the flat country, below the town, it appeared to be an impregnable stronghold; for where nature's protecting barriers were wanting, there were huge embankments, deep fosses, and steep artificial declivities. A picturesque place too. The face of the cliff and the old turreted walls were covered with ivy, a broad stream ran beneath the hill, which on the lowest slope was well wooded all round,—and now imagine all this clad in new-fallen snow, and you will have as lovely a scene as I remember.
Close to the town we passed a bridge which had been blown up, but was now reconstructed on timber piles. It had been destroyed, not by the regular army, but by a band of Francs-Tireurs. This I learned from one of the officers who knew all about the place.
I had seen Ferrières, the palace of a Frankfort Jew, with admiration, all the more that it had been respected as a sanctuary by orders from the Prussians. Yet it was during this same journey that I witnessed an incident in which a Jew was the hero or the victim, that filled me with astonishment, as it may do my readers who happen not to be acquainted with the ways of the Fatherland. I had frequently heard the Jews spoken of by my German friends in language of supreme contempt; but never did I realise the depth of that feeling until now.
In the railway compartment in which I travelled, all were German officers except myself and one civilian. The latter had got in at a wayside station, and sat at the furthest corner opposite me. My companions began without delay to banter and tease him unmercifully, all the while addressing him as Lemann. He was a small stunted person, in make and features an Israelite, and not more than twenty-five. The behaviour of his fellow-travellers seemed to give him no concern; as they fired off at him their sneering jests, he scanned them with his sharp eyes, but did not move a muscle.
I inquired of the officer next me, who spoke English well, how it came to pass that they knew this stranger's name. He explained that Lemann was the common term for a Jew in their language, going on to describe how much the sons of Jacob were detested throughout Germany; and for his part he thought they were a vile horde, who laid hands on everything they could seize, in a way which we English were incapable of fancying. The officers, he added, were all getting down to have some beer at the next station, and by way of illustration he would show me what manner of men these Jews were; and as he said the words, he took off his hairy fur-lined gloves, and threw them across the carriage to our man in the corner, remarking, "There, Lemann! it is a cold day". The Jew picked up the gloves eagerly, which he had missed on the catch, and pulled them on. When we were nearing the station, the officer who had thrown the gloves at him, took off his fur rug, and flung that also to the Jew. Once more he accepted the insulting present, and quickly rolled the rug about him. Finally, a third threw off his military cloak, and slung it on the Jew's back as he was passing out. This, again, the wretched creature put on; and their absence at the buffet left him for the next ten minutes in peace.
Presently the horn sounded, and our Germans came back. One seized his rug, another his cloak, and finally, my first acquaintance recovered his gloves by one unceremonious tug from Lemann's meekly outstretched fingers. My own face, I think, must have flushed with indignation; but the others only laughed at my superfluous display of feeling; and Lemann, shrugging his shoulders,—but only because of the sudden change of temperature when his wraps were pulled away,—took out of his pocket a little book with red print, which he began to read backwards, and, turning up the sleeve of his coat, began to unwind a long cord which was coiled round his wrist and forearm as far as the elbow. Every now and then he would stop the unwinding, and pray with a fervour quite remarkable, then unwind his cord again, and so on till the whole was undone. For a time the officers resumed their jeering; but, seeing that it was like so much water on a stone, they turned the conversation, and allowed the unhappy Jew to continue his devotions unmolested till he got out at Strasburg.