The Downfall

by Émile Zola

He had been obliged to visit the Hôtel de Ville to see the mayor about his supply of chloroform, and urge him to issue a requisition for a quantity, for he had many operations to perform, his stock of the drug was exhausted, and he was afraid, he said, that he should be compelled to carve up the poor devils without putting them to sleep.

“Well?” inquired Delaherche.

“Well, they can’t even tell whether the apothecaries have any or not!”

But the manufacturer was thinking of other things than chloroform. “No, no,” he continued. “Have they brought matters to a conclusion yet? Have they signed the agreement with the Prussians?”

The major made a gesture of impatience. “There is nothing concluded,” he cried. “It appears that those scoundrels are making demands out of all reason. Ah, well; let ’em commence afresh, then, and we’ll all leave our bones here. That will be best!”

Delaherche’s face grew very pale as he listened. “But are you quite sure these things are so?”

“I was told them by those fellows of the municipal council, who are in permanent session at the city hall. An officer had been dispatched from the Sous-Prefecture to lay the whole affair before them.”

And he went on to furnish additional details. The interview had taken place at the Château de Bellevue, near Donchery, and the participants were General de Wimpffen, General von Moltke, and Bismarck. A stern and inflexible man was that von Moltke, a terrible man to deal with! He began by demonstrating that he was perfectly acquainted with the hopeless situation of the French army; it was destitute of ammunition and subsistence, demoralization and disorder pervaded its ranks, it was utterly powerless to break the iron circle by which it was girt about; while on the other hand the German armies occupied commanding positions from which they could lay the city in ashes in two hours. Coldly, unimpassionedly, he stated his terms: the entire French army to surrender arms and baggage and be treated as prisoners of war. Bismarck took no part in the discussion beyond giving the general his support, occasionally showing his teeth, like a big mastiff, inclined to be pacific on the whole, but quite ready to rend and tear should there be occasion for it. General de Wimpffen in reply protested with all the force he had at his command against these conditions, the most severe that ever were imposed on a vanquished army. He spoke of his personal grief and ill-fortune, the bravery of the troops, the danger there was in driving a proud nation to extremity; for three hours he spoke with all the energy and eloquence of despair, alternately threatening and entreating, demanding that they should content themselves with interning their prisoners in France, or even in Algeria; and in the end the only concession granted was, that the officers might retain their swords, and those among them who should enter into a solemn arrangement, attested by a written parole, to serve no more during the war, might return to their homes. Finally, the armistice to be prolonged until the next morning at ten o’clock; if at that time the terms had not been accepted, the Prussian batteries would reopen fire and the city would be burned.

“That’s stupid!” exclaimed Delaherche; “they have no right to burn a city that has done nothing to deserve it!”

The major gave him still further food for anxiety by adding that some officers whom he had met at the Hotel de l’Europe were talking of making a sortie en masse just before daylight. An extremely excited state of feeling had prevailed since the tenor of the German demands had become known, and measures the most extravagant were proposed and discussed. No one seemed to be deterred by the consideration that it would be dishonorable to break the truce, taking advantage of the darkness and giving the enemy no notification, and the wildest, most visionary schemes were offered; they would resume the march on Carignan, hewing their way through the Bavarians, which they could do in the black night; they would recapture the plateau of Illy by a surprise; they would raise the blockade of the Mézières road, or, by a determined, simultaneous rush, would force the German lines and throw themselves into Belgium. Others there were, indeed, who, feeling the hopelessness of their position, said nothing; they would have accepted any terms, signed any paper, with a glad cry of relief, simply to have the affair ended and done with.