Usually, at the beginning of school, a loud noise could be heard from the street. Desks were being opened and closed, and lessons repeated at the top of the voice. Occasionally the heavy ruler of the master beat the table, as he cried, “Silence, please, silence!” I hoped to be able to take my seat in all this noise without being seen; but that morning the room was quiet and orderly. Through the open window I saw my schoolmates already in their places. The master was walking up and down the room with the iron ruler under his arm and a book in his hand. As I entered he looked at me kindly, and said, without scolding, “Go quickly to your place, little Franz; we were just going to begin without you. You should have been here five minutes ago.”
I climbed over my bench and sat down at once at my desk. Just then I noticed, for the first time, that our master wore his fine green coat with the ruffled frills, and his black silk embroidered cap. But what surprised me more was to see some of the village people seated on the benches at the end of the room. One of them was holding an old spelling-book on his knee; and they all looked sadly at the master.
While I was wondering at this, our schoolmaster took his place, and in the same kind tone in which he had received me, he said: “My children, this is the last time that I shall give you a lesson. An order has come from Berlin that no language but German may be taught in the schools of Alsace and Lorraine. A new master will come to-morrow who shall teach you in German. To-day is your last lesson in French. I beg of you to pay good attention.”
These words frightened me. This is what they had posted on the bulletin-board, then! This is what the blacksmith was reading. My last lesson in French! I hardly knew how to write, and I never should learn now. How I longed for lost time, for hours wasted in the woods and fields, for days when I had played and should have studied. My books that a short time ago had seemed so tiresome, so heavy to carry, now seemed to me like old friends. I was thinking of this when I heard my name called. It was my turn to recite. What would I not have given to be able to say the rules without a mistake? But I could not say a word and stood at my bench without daring to lift my head. Then I heard the master speaking to me.
“I shall not scold you, little Franz. You are punished enough now. Every day you have said to yourself: ‘I have plenty of time. I shall learn my lesson to-morrow.’ Now you see what has happened.”
Then he began to talk to us about the French language, saying that it was the most beautiful tongue in the world, and that we must keep it among us and never forget it. Finally he took the grammar and read us the lesson. I was surprised to see how I understood. Everything seemed easy. I believe, too, that I never listened so well; and it seemed almost as if the good man were trying to teach us all he knew in this last lesson.
The lesson in grammar ended, we began our writing. For that day the master had prepared some new copies, on which were written, “Alsace, France; Alsace, France.” They seemed like so many little flags floating about the schoolroom. How we worked! Nothing was heard but the voice of the master and the scratching of pens on the paper. There was no time for play now. On the roof of the schoolhouse some pigeons were softly cooing, and I said to myself, “Shall they, too, be obliged to sing in German?”
From time to time, when I looked up from my page, I saw the master looking about him as if he wished to impress upon his mind everything in the room.
After writing, we had a history lesson, and then the little ones recited. Oh, I shall remember that last lesson!