At a later period so numerous became the “nurses” that “to carry a brassard[280] turned into a fashion; young women played the nurse with wounded soldiers as little girls play the mother with their dolls.” Many earnest women devoted themselves to the work, but that the remark just made was not without grounds was no less true. In some instances the declared object with which they undertook such work was to release men therefrom, so that they might join the active ranks in combat, or become ambulanciers. In other instances it was said of the ladies so employed that they restricted their performances to mere show, leaving all real work in the wards to men, but ready to accept credit really due to the latter. Instances occurred of wounded Frenchmen submitting a formal request to be moved to wards in which their attendants should be men only. Up to a certain time a halo of romance attached itself to the movement as a whole; latterly the brightness of that “glory” became less dazzling.
Unfortunately some of the larger ambulance establishments drew upon themselves suspicion; a report circulated that while above them, as also some huts or barraques erected for similar purpose, waved the Red Cross flag, side by side with or in close proximity to them were stores for combatant purposes,—in at least one instance artillery ready equipped for battle. There were cynics who said that the profusion of Geneva flags on private houses was indicative of a desire on the part of the inmates to claim protection under that emblem, as much as the wish to share their rapidly diminishing quantity of food and “comforts” with sick and wounded men. The fact that brancardiers were “neutral” by virtue of the brassard worn by them was considered by pessimists to account for the great popularity attached to the Corps of Ambulanciers as compared to the fighting battalions. Nor were there wanting persons who expressed views that the entire system of “Sociétés des Secours” had in it the objection that by their means responsibility in respect to the care of sick and wounded soldiers was withdrawn from Governments concerned, and so war protracted beyond what would otherwise be possible.
CHAPTER XXVII
1870. SEPTEMBER. SIEGE OF PARIS
An Alsacienne—Action at Chatillon—The dangerous classes—“Mourir pour la patrie”—Contrasted conditions—Batteries open—Theatres and Louvre—Food and prices—More contrasts—Action at Villejuif—Again the Alsacienne—Historical sieges.
Among the “ambulances” visited by me while being prepared for their intended purpose was one in the near vicinity of the Luxembourg Palace. A particular club was in process of transition accordingly; its members, socially distinguished in Parisian society, had arranged among themselves to undertake the entire management and work, professional and otherwise, in connection therewith, the female members of their respective families devoting themselves to the performance of such functions as pertained more properly to them. In a spacious apartment of that club-ambulance, a number of ladies were variously occupied in arranging articles of bedding, night-dresses, bandages, etc. Among them was one, an Alsacienne, young, fair, and so gentle in manner, that as she accompanied me through the several apartments about to become wards, I took leave to ask whether she had formed any idea as to the nature of the duties that might fall upon her in relation to wounded men, and, if so, whether she felt that she was physically capable of them. “Of course,” so she said in reply, “she could not tell what those duties might be, or if she would be able to fulfil them; but in such circumstances as now threatened, it was the duty of every one, man and woman alike, to do their best, and she hoped to do hers.”
In the early hours of the 19th, the French forces, some 60,000 strong, occupying the heights of Meudon and Chatillon, were attacked, and driven away by the Germans. It subsequently transpired that although considerable numbers of the regular soldiers of the line stood their ground as became them, others, including some Zouaves, fled panic-stricken; their example was quickly followed by the Mobiles, and so, as day advanced, great numbers of those classes were seen in flight along the great thoroughfares of the city, a few of them carrying their arms, but the great majority without weapons of any kind, shouting as they fled, “Nous sommes trahi!” themselves saluted by the populace with cries of “Lâches.”[281] The sight was a melancholy one, its tendency to impair whatever belief existed in regard to the successful issue of the defence now entered upon. Still later, ambulance carriages passed along the streets, bearing their loads of men wounded in this the first serious engagement in the near vicinity of the capital, the siege of which begins as a result of that action. As subsequently expressed by newspaper correspondents, there is little doubt that had the Prussians followed up the fugitives on this occasion they might with them have entered Paris.
In the evening of that day the sound of shots fired in the streets was heard; report spread that two thousand of “the dangerous classes” were abroad, a report so far confirmed that they were being marched under escort to the gates, and so expelled, to take their chances between the lines of besieged and besiegers. It was deemed unsafe for foreigners to appear, lest, being taken for Prussians, they might vicariously suffer for the success of the morning. Cafés and such places were ordered to close early; a declaration published that persons convicted of pillage should be held liable to death penalty. The discovery was made that telegraphic communication with the outer world was cut off. Under all these circumstances there existed an impression that the risks to life had been lessened to those within the city by the repulse sustained by our “defenders” in the morning.
On September 21 was celebrated in Paris the outbreak in 1792 of the Republic, and massacre of French nobles. Placards declared that the successors of men of that day will prove themselves worthy of their ancestors; other affiches expressed determination to resist to the death, to accept no armistice, to yield neither a stone of a fortress nor an inch of territory. In the Place de la Concorde a battalion of the Garde Nationale presented arms to the statue of Strasbourg, sang in chorus the Marseillaise, decorated the emblem itself with floral wreaths; having done so, they marched away! Soon there came a body of “patriots”; their task to drape the figures of Marseilles and Lyons in red, in token of the Republic declared at both those places. Along the Rue Rivoli came a battalion of newly-enrolled citizen soldiers, their destination said to be the front. At the head of the column marched in gorgeous and picturesque costume a cantinière. The men’s rifles were decorated with evergreens; accompanying them were their wives and children, all in tears; the brave men loudly singing, “Mourir pour la patrie.” As they reached the Rue Royale an affecting and sad parting was witnessed; the column resumed its march, but now in silence; but, as subsequently transpired, not to come in conflict with the enemy.