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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44599 ***
+
+BEYOND THE MARNE
+
+[Illustration: Mlle. Henriette Cuvru-Magot, from a recent portrait]
+
+
+
+
+BEYOND THE MARNE
+
+_Quincy--Huiry--Voisins before and during the battle_
+
+    BY
+    HENRIETTE CUVRU-MAGOT
+
+    TRANSLATED BY
+    KATHARINE BABBITT
+
+    ILLUSTRATED FROM PHOTOGRAPHS
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+    BOSTON
+    SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY
+    PUBLISHERS
+
+
+
+
+    Copyright, 1918
+    BY SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY
+    (INCORPORATED)
+
+
+
+
+To
+
+MILDRED ALDRICH
+
+
+"Will you allow me, Miss Aldrich, to pay you the tribute of my
+admiration for the lofty courage you have shown, and to express to you
+my gratitude for the comfort you have given my family during these
+early days of September?"
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+
+MADEMOISELLE HENRIETTE CUVRU-MAGOT, who, since the early months of the
+war, has been nursing the wounded at the Auxiliary Hospital of _l'Union
+des Femmes de France_, at Quincy, near Meaux, lives in the picturesque
+village of Voisins, a dependency of that commune.
+
+Daughter of a superior officer who played an active and brilliant part
+in the war of 1870, granddaughter of a Garde-du-Corps of Louis XVI, she
+heard from childhood in her home many tales of valiant deeds performed
+by the French Army.
+
+And now, in her turn, wishing to complete the story of the glorious
+past, witnessed by her father and grandfather, by the story of the
+heroic present, at which she herself is an onlooker, she is about to
+tell us what she saw from her modest cottage at the very beginning of
+the Great War, and trace to us a poignant picture of the events which
+took place under her eyes.
+
+Mademoiselle Cuvru-Magot began her journal August 2, 1914, thinking,
+of course, that she would never know the war itself except through the
+accounts given by our soldiers when at last they should return.
+
+Five weeks later she was in the midst of a battle, and that, of all
+others, the Battle of the Marne.
+
+The real merit of these notes--all too few, alas! since they leave off
+on the morrow of the Victory of the Marne--is not to be sought in the
+military incidents recorded by Mademoiselle Cuvru-Magot, though even
+these have their importance, but rather in the noble sentiments she
+expresses, which stand out above everything else, especially during the
+heart-rending hours of the invasion. In her village, cut off from the
+rest of the world, she finds herself almost alone with those who are
+most dear to her--too weak to protect them, powerless on the other hand
+to sacrifice herself, to give all her strength, all her sympathy to the
+soldiers wounded in the battle that is being waged there, a few steps
+from her door.
+
+Mademoiselle Cuvru-Magot was kind enough to let me see her manuscript,
+and at my earnest request has consented to publish it.
+
+It is with interest and emotion that we read these pages marked by
+ardent faith and by an unfaltering trust in the eternal destiny of our
+country. And they are pages written by a Frenchwoman who remembers with
+just pride that she is the daughter and granddaughter of soldiers.
+
+    GEORGES HUSSON
+
+    _Vice-President of the Literary and Historical
+    Society of Brie_
+
+
+
+
+ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+                                                                    PAGE
+
+    Mlle. Henriette Cuvru-Magot, from a Recent Portrait   _Frontispiece_
+
+    The Mareuil Road from Voisins to the Marne, the Ancient
+        Pavé-des-Roizes                                               10
+
+    Terrace of the Actors' Home at Couilly, established by
+        Coquelin, who died here                                       20
+
+    Voisins-Quincy. Rue de Condé                                      32
+
+    Miss Mildred Aldrich                                              36
+
+    The Junction of the Marne and the Canal de Chalifert              42
+
+    _Route national_ from Couilly to the Demi-Lune                    52
+
+    The Road leading away from the Château de Condé,
+        across the Grand Morin                                        66
+
+    Wounded Soldiers at the Hospital of Quincy                        76
+
+    Voisins-Quincy. Rue de Condé                                      86
+
+    Château in the Park of the Actors' Home at Couilly                96
+
+    Tomb of Coquelin                                                 100
+
+    On the Banks of the Marne                                        104
+
+    The Home of Mlle. Henriette Cuvru-Magot                          106
+
+
+
+
+BEYOND THE MARNE
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+
+                                                      2 August, 1914.
+
+WAR is declared! Up to the last minute I would not believe it. Is such
+a thing still possible in this century? Alas, yes! There is no denying
+the facts.
+
+Even these last few days I felt perfectly confident. We have been on
+the verge of war so many times before this, but the danger has always
+been averted by means of diplomatic parleys. I thought that in our day
+and generation disputes were settled in that way, without bloodshed, as
+a matter of course. But now! It seems to me we have just gone backward
+several centuries!
+
+I did not realize the truth until a little while ago when I took my
+brother to the station at Esbly. He is on his way to Paris to get his
+mobilization orders. How I wish I were a man and could go with him!
+This is the first time in our lives we have ever been separated, and
+under what circumstances! How sad it is to think that in every town and
+village in France there is the same anguish of farewells.
+
+The pealing of the tocsin is a funeral knell that strikes terror to
+every mother's heart.
+
+The great grief that has stricken the earth is borne from village to
+village on the church bells like a single long sob.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+                                                      4 August, 1914.
+
+EVERY day some of the men about here start for the front, but it is at
+the Esbly station, where I have just been, that the leave-takings are
+the most heart-rending.
+
+The men are very grave, but they start off without a complaint, without
+a murmur. And if they are courageous, the women who accompany them,
+understanding fully their own great duty, do not give way to their
+feelings for a single instant. They are determined that no tears of
+theirs shall make harder the task of father or husband. It is really
+sublime.
+
+Huge bunches and garlands of roses are twined over the cars. Here
+and there is the vivid note of our national bouquet of simple
+wildflowers--cornflowers, daisies, and poppies, scarce at this season.
+In the cannon's mouth and on the gun-carriages are branches of laurel.
+
+Inscriptions chalked on all the cars bear witness to the good morale of
+our troops.
+
+On the locomotive of a return train we read:
+
+    Our souls to God,
+    Our blood to our country,
+    Our hearts to our women,
+    Our bodies to the wicked.
+
+How very French that is!
+
+It is as if these trains, decked with flowers and flags, were on their
+way to a vast festival. When each train comes to a standstill there is
+an impressive moment of silence, broken by cheers as it moves off.
+
+Although I was deeply stirred by these departures, I stayed a long
+time at the station, filled with admiration at the ardor with which
+every man answers the call of his country. It is a sight never to be
+forgotten.
+
+On the way home from the station, I meet a friend whom I have known
+a long time, a good man who is father of a family. In order to spare
+his wife and children the worst of the farewells, he has insisted on
+going alone to the station. He asks permission to embrace me. "I have
+known you since you were such a little tot, Mademoiselle." Of course I
+consent willingly.
+
+Highways as well as railroads are being used for transporting men and
+supplies. Auto-buses, delivery wagons of Paris shops--the Bon Marché,
+Galéries Lafayette, Printemps, still bearing their signboards and
+advertisements--go by on the road to Meaux, carrying munitions (at
+least we imagine so). They are tight shut, and, to judge by their dull
+rumble, heavily laden.
+
+Just as I reach the outskirts of Quincy, I see a group of men armed
+with pitchforks and sticks coming down the road. Farther on, a lady
+with white hair is holding a Browning aimed at the sky.
+
+What is happening?
+
+I learn that an automobile driven by Germans and flying the Red Cross
+flag has been signalled. The order has just come by telephone to try to
+stop it.
+
+The constable is blockading the road with carts, planks, and farming
+implements. I immediately start back to Voisins, and urge everyone I
+meet to do likewise.
+
+In the distance an automobile coming at a rapid pace from the direction
+of Couilly stops suddenly at the sight of the barricade. The little
+group of armed civilians approach.
+
+It is too far away for me to make out anything more, but I see a second
+automobile, driven at top speed, slow down, and then swiftly wheel
+about. In my anxiety to give the alarm in Voisins, I do not notice
+which way it goes.
+
+At Voisins no automobile has been seen, but barricades are erected,
+nevertheless. While I am answering the questions people ask me about
+this automobile story, I suddenly notice some marks scratched on the
+wall of the house in front of which we are standing, at the corner of
+the roads to Huiry and Voisins.
+
+The drawing looks like a map, and has an arrow beside it. It must have
+been made a very short time ago, and looks as if it were made with a
+nail or the point of a knife. The blades of grass underneath are still
+covered with the fine powder and plaster that fell from it.
+
+[Illustration: The Mareuil Road from Voisins to the Marne, the ancient
+Pavé-des-Roizes]
+
+The arrow points towards Pavé-des-Roizes, and, on studying the
+lines, we think someone was trying to point out the road to
+Couilly--Mareuil Street, the road of Champ-Madame (going from Demi-Lune
+to Huiry), Huiry Street, Condé Street, and once more Mareuil Street (or
+Pavé-des-Roizes).
+
+We dare not say to each other what is in our minds. It occurs to one
+of us to follow the direction of the arrow, and, to our surprise, we
+find other arrows leading all the way to the Marne. What is more, they
+are all newly made. Some of them point in the direction of Paris, and
+have the word "Paris" written in large letters underneath. Was the auto
+to reach Meaux by going through Mareuil in case the State road was cut
+off? Even along the State road there were several guiding marks. On
+the blinds of a farmhouse just outside of Quincy is a large arrow,
+pointing downward towards the German colors.
+
+We were unable to find out what became of this automobile. The first
+one that was stopped--thus allowing the second to escape--was that of
+a French general, who was doubtless obliged to give numerous proofs of
+his identity in the course of an hour.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+                                                     8 August, 1914.
+
+TO-DAY our gas and water supplies were cut off! The town-crier
+announces that people are forbidden to circulate on the high roads
+between 6 P.M. and 6 A.M., and that foreigners in the commune are not
+to leave it under penalty of immediate arrest.
+
+A home guard has been organized, which is to be armed and patrol the
+streets at night.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+
+                                                     20 August, 1914.
+
+THE efforts to find the automobile signalled on the 6th were perhaps
+not without success. We were told to-day that an automobile with nuns
+in it had been seized. A child happened to call attention to the size
+of the nuns' hands, and it was discovered that they were no other than
+two German officers. Their automobile contained a large quantity of
+powder.
+
+These Germans were shot at Lagny almost immediately, I am told, but of
+this I am not positive, as I know it only by hearsay.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+
+                                                     30 August, 1914.
+
+TRAIN loads of wounded keep passing through Esbly. We all flock to the
+station, in the hope of bringing back good news. Alas, nothing comes
+but great numbers of refugees and wounded. The hospital installed in
+the waiting-room of the station is not large enough to care for all the
+wounded and provide comforts for the refugees. There are many young
+girls, but not enough to attend to all these unfortunates. While some
+of us are busy dressing wounds, others hasten to carry sandwiches and
+drink to the refugees on the trains, many of whom have had nothing to
+eat or drink for twenty hours.
+
+Trains do not stop long enough at the station to allow the women of the
+Red Cross to go through all the cars. Even though it is against the
+rules, we reach the platform from the railroad-crossing and distribute
+fruit, bread, and chocolate to the children.
+
+Our brave soldiers, for all their wounds and their weariness, look
+confident, and the ones we are able to approach assure us that they do
+not doubt our victory for a single instant. They have seen it. I can
+read it in their eyes.
+
+How I long to be useful in these tragic hours! It is the duty of
+everyone to the full measure of his strength. No effort to help,
+however small, is unimportant.
+
+Unfortunately, the hospital at Quincy is not yet completely organized,
+but meanwhile a branch has been fitted up at the railroad station. I am
+assigned to the Quincy hospital, and so am obliged to wait until it is
+opened.
+
+There are moments when I could weep at not being able to do as much as
+I should like to relieve all this suffering--to give of my strength
+since I cannot give of my purse. I want to start for the hospitals near
+the front, but my mother absolutely forbids it.
+
+I wrote to Bishop Marbeau asking to be allowed to work in one of his
+hospitals. He answers that Meaux has no hospital as yet, but that he
+will let me know in case there is any way I can be of use. He sends
+with his letter several packages containing warm clothing and various
+useful articles for needy soldiers of the neighborhood. I am deeply
+touched.
+
+Quincy possesses a dispensary installed by Madame Bruneau, mistress of
+the château. This dispensary, directed by a Sister of Mercy, Sister
+Jules, is of great service to the civilian population in time of peace.
+Since war was declared, it has been transformed into a hospital for
+wounded or sick soldiers, and the management entrusted to Madame René
+Benoist, wife of the mayor of the commune.
+
+This hospital has two branches--one at Pont-aux-Dames, in the Home
+for Aged Actors founded by Coquelin, the other at the Esbly railroad
+station. From here the wounded who arrive on the trains will be taken
+to Quincy or Pont-aux-Dames.
+
+Doctor Pigornet of Crécy is in charge of the medical service.
+
+So far no orders have been received from the Sanitary Service assigning
+wounded to either branch. We are obliged to wait for these orders.
+Each annex has its staff appointed. Quincy is not entirely fitted up.
+Pont-aux-Dames is organized, and the branch at the station is already
+at work.
+
+Trains keep rushing to the Eastern frontier in an endless procession.
+The roar is incessant, especially at night, and a dismal sound it is.
+
+Refugees in even greater numbers throng the roads. The towns on the
+other side of the Marne are beginning to be evacuated. It is a desolate
+sight.
+
+Old people manage with difficulty to keep their balance on carts piled
+high with household goods and fodder. Young women walk, carrying little
+ones whose eyes are wide with fatigue and fright at all this commotion.
+
+Carts follow carts, crowded close together in one long line. They come
+from Liège, from Namur, from our invaded regions of the North!
+
+[Illustration: Terrace of the Actors' Home at Couilly, established by
+Coquelin, who died here]
+
+In the midst of all these people in vehicles and on foot, terrified
+cattle jostle each other. Some that were in leading have broken
+loose; others, still tied, cannot keep up, and let themselves be
+dragged along. Sheep and cows run about the fields or simply stop where
+they are and begin to graze.
+
+As a result of the increasing difficulty in taking their cattle with
+them, peasants dispose of them for almost nothing: a cow, forty francs.
+
+The hospital at Quincy, though it cannot be of service to the wounded,
+will at least, while waiting for them, have cared for the unfortunate
+refugees. It is distributing soup to three hundred people daily, as
+well as milk and other food and drink. Tired women stop there to rest a
+little before resuming their sad journey to the unknown.
+
+They all have a tale of horror to tell--barbarous acts committed
+by the Germans in the homes these people are fleeing from--acts so
+terrible that it is almost impossible to believe them. One man tells
+us that a young boy in his family had both hands cut off by these
+wretches. "This child," he said, "must have been taken along this road.
+We started out together, but I was so tired and hungry that I stopped
+to rest, and got separated from the others. The Boches have destroyed
+everything I possessed." (I have made inquiries. People tell me they
+saw at the Couilly bridge a little boy of about seven with both arms
+wrapped in bandages.)
+
+Supplies of food at the hospital are beginning to give out. The
+town-crier is sent out to make an appeal to the generosity of the
+citizens, and once more the kitchen is filled with food.
+
+The town-crier, in conformance with instructions from the Prefect,
+orders the civil population to carry to the town hall any arms they may
+have in their possession. Everyone hastens to comply. In their panic,
+people even carry the ancient arms of their panoplies.
+
+All day long (and for several days back as well) Boche aviators have
+been flying over us, and seem to be exchanging signals. They come from
+the direction of Meaux, circle about in large and small circles as far
+as Voisins, from there they dart in a straight line towards Paris,
+returning after rather a long flight, still in a straight line in the
+direction of Soissons, where we lose sight of them. We have noticed
+this man[oe]uvre several times.
+
+I walked to Esbly this morning in company with a lad of about fifteen
+who has come with his mother to take refuge in Condé. He told me
+that, together with several friends whom they brought with them in
+their motor, they have been fleeing before the enemy all the way from
+Belgium. "We wanted to go to Compiègne," he said, "but were advised to
+come here instead, because there was less danger. But here, no more
+than elsewhere," he added, after a pause, "are we safe. We shall not
+stay. We leave to-morrow."
+
+"But," I asked, "what makes you think we are in danger here?"
+
+"Look at all those 'planes. They are Boche machines. They keep just
+ahead of the army. At first we did not pay any attention to them, but
+since then we have found out what it means. You may be sure their
+troops are not far behind."
+
+I have decided to go to Paris. There I shall find out what is really
+happening.
+
+At the railroad station they are not sure there will be a return train.
+The service may be discontinued at any moment. After considering the
+possibility of having to return on foot, I start out. Come what may, I
+must see my family in Paris.
+
+The trains are crammed with people and stacked on top of each other
+are bundles and boxes of all shapes and sizes. From the boxes come the
+whining of dogs, the screeching of birds, and the mewing of cats. It is
+indescribable.
+
+On the way back I have the luck to get a train which takes seven hours
+from Paris to Esbly, being side-tracked all along the line to make way
+for trains carrying wounded, war supplies, or troops on their way to or
+from the front.
+
+When I get back to Voisins I am plied with questions by a number of
+people who are anxiously awaiting my return. I hardly dare give them
+the news I have brought.
+
+I went to the Bank of France to see my uncle. He advises us to stay
+where we are,--this in spite of the fact that the government is being
+moved to Bordeaux next Thursday. The Bank is preparing to leave at
+the same time. The courtyard of the Bank is full of automobiles and
+railroad delivery wagons, which, after being loaded hastily, start out
+in every direction.
+
+This news throws everyone into a panic.
+
+English heavy artillery arrived to-day. It came by way of Esbly, and
+this afternoon has been taken up to Coutevroult where the batteries are
+being installed. Coutevroult is on the slope opposite that of Quincy,
+Huiry, Voisins. The Grand-Morin flows between.
+
+If the Germans come to Quincy, or the heights over opposite, we shall
+be between two fires!
+
+We were awakened last night by the tramping and neighing of horses. The
+horses' hoofs seemed to have been wrapped in something. The sound was
+muffled.
+
+My mother and I called to each other: "It is the Boches." Did they
+hear us? The windows of our bedroom open on the street. At any rate,
+the pace quickened, and finally died away in the direction of the
+ford--a road leading to the Aulnois woods behind our house, then to
+Pavé-des-Roizes, communicating with the Condé woods and the banks of
+the Chalifert canal.
+
+We did not get up quickly enough to find out what this expedition was
+that was being carried on with so much mystery. It is a great pity, for
+the night was clear, and it would certainly have been possible to see.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+
+                                                   2 September, 1914.
+
+THE King's Own Yorkshire Light Infantry, commanded by Captain Simpson,
+arrived at the same time as the heavy artillery, and is camping at
+Demi-Lune. The regiment has retreated all the way from Belgium and
+these brave men have been fighting continually since the Battle of Mons
+on August 23. These are their first days of rest.
+
+Heavy ration trucks and hospital ambulances, superbly appointed, line
+the road.
+
+The soldiers are splendidly set up and perfectly equipped. Spruce,
+shining, freshly shaved, they are as clean and correct when they
+present themselves to us as if they had just stepped out of a bandbox.
+They are very reserved in speech, and do not talk much unless we
+question them. Even so, we have to be careful not to put indiscreet
+questions.
+
+On our asking: "Where are the Germans?" "Far, far away," they answer,
+with a wave of the hand. They do their best to reassure us and gaily
+begin whistling "Tipperary."
+
+Their coolness allays our fears.
+
+This afternoon the detachment of Hussars stationed at Meaux marched by.
+People were already uneasy, and after that they were more than ever
+convinced that it was time to flee. This evening everyone is impatient
+to be off.
+
+Esbly is already evacuated. A few Scotch troops are beginning to arrive
+there.
+
+Neufmontiers, Penchard, Dammartin, all the communes in the immediate
+vicinity of Meaux, are evacuated. Official records of real estate, also
+birth, marriage, and death registers, and the municipal archives have
+been removed to the quarries of Mareuil, along with the arms deposited
+by civilians.
+
+Departures are growing more frequent. People in Quincy are preparing to
+go, likewise some of the inhabitants of Voisins. The mayor and the curé
+have already been mobilized.
+
+Are we alone to remain behind?
+
+[Illustration: Voisins-Quincy. Rue de Condé]
+
+Before leaving, everyone wants to save his most treasured
+possessions. Mattresses, beds, old furniture--the most absurd and
+unlikely things--are carried from one end of the village to the other
+to be hidden in the underground passages which abound in Voisins and
+Huiry.
+
+Holes are dug to contain barrels crammed with linen and household
+goods. In all this extraordinary activity there is very little reason
+or method. People are half crazed. They even hide furniture and various
+other objects in the tunnels of the plaster quarries!
+
+To abandon one's home seems like deserting a friend. And yet we shall
+have to consider it, for we may be forced to go. I promised my brother
+to see that his wife and children were removed to a place of safety
+in case of danger. We are none of us terrified as yet. Though I have a
+feeling that the battle will not come as far as this, I am doing all
+I can to persuade my mother to leave. It is only when I speak of the
+safety of the children that I succeed in shaking her determination to
+stay. Meanwhile, the danger does not seem imminent, and we keep putting
+off our departure till the morrow.
+
+At the turning of the road that leads from Demi-Lune to Voisins, on
+the hilltop overlooking the valley of the Marne, one of the humble
+dwellings of the hamlet of Huiry was transformed a few months ago
+into a beautiful cottage. It is two stories high, with a pointed and
+irregular roof, but most graceful in its whole effect. It is here that
+an American lady came to live in the early months of this year, hoping
+to pass in this solitary spot calm and peaceful days.
+
+Miss Aldrich, a woman of courageous soul and great heart, is an
+unspeakable consolation to the little group of women who have remained
+near her. Filled with the most generous sentiments, giving lavishly of
+her sympathy and guidance, she charms all who come in contact with her.
+
+I go to see Miss Aldrich every day. Her conversation delights me and
+her qualities of mind and heart fill me with admiration. By her force
+of character in the tragic hours we are living through she helps us to
+rise above emotions that at times nearly sweep us off our feet.
+
+If a bit of good news reaches her, I am sure to see her come hurrying
+down the hill towards our house to talk over with us what she has just
+learned.
+
+She is truly French at heart, and knows just what to say to make us
+feel the same confidence she feels herself. If, before she came, we
+were beginning to waver, we discover after she has been here that we
+are once more strong and brave.
+
+[Illustration: Miss Mildred Aldrich, the author of "A Hilltop on the
+Marne" and "On the Edge of the War Zone." Riding in her cart behind her
+donkey, Ninette, Miss Aldrich is a familiar figure in the country-side
+round about "La Creste," her "house on the hilltop."]
+
+Will you allow me, Miss Aldrich, to pay you the tribute of my
+admiration for the lofty courage you have shown, and to express to you
+my gratitude for the comfort you have given my family during these
+early days of September?
+
+We learned from Captain Simpson at Miss Aldrich's that German patrols
+had crossed the Marne in advance of the English. English aviators have
+seen them. Can it be that the horses we have been hearing for several
+nights back belong to these patrols?
+
+The soldiers of the King's Own Yorkshire Regiment mount guard until 6
+P.M. in Voisins and also along the canal that joins the Marne to the
+Morin. At that time Captain Simpson suddenly receives marching orders
+and starts off at once in the direction of Crécy. The Yorkshiremen are
+promptly replaced by a regiment of Bedfordshire Light Infantry.
+
+General French and the English General Staff are at
+Villeneuve-le-Comte, it is said. Motorcycle messengers maintain
+communications between the various English corps that surround us.
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+
+                                                  3 September, 1914.
+
+SEVERAL days ago the hospitals near Meaux received orders to evacuate
+their wounded and equipment to Orléans. The last train-loads of wounded
+are to pass through Esbly to-day. So, in spite of our reluctance to
+leave, we shall have to make up our minds to it.
+
+This morning, Madame Benoist told us of these orders, and urged us to
+leave, and, for the sake of the children, as quickly as possible. The
+Germans are advancing rapidly. They are at Saint-Soupplets, she tells
+us. She kindly offers us a horse and carriage, saying that it is
+almost out of the question to take the train.
+
+The trains crawl along at a snail's pace, gathering up everyone in
+their path. Refugees wait all along the track, and at the stations are
+jammed together pell-mell in the midst of all sorts of luggage and
+supplies.
+
+The station at Esbly is to be closed and the hospital moved away.
+
+We accept Madame Benoist's offer with gratitude, for we must make sure
+that the children are safe.
+
+So we pack up hastily and load the carriage, which we have no small
+difficulty in finding, as it is haled in every direction by people who
+are trying to escape. Everyone is getting more and more distracted.
+
+We start out without locking up anything, or even so much as closing
+the doors. We can't help feeling that we shall not go very far.
+
+Before being bestowed on us, the horse has already made several trips
+and carried heavy loads. He is fagged out. After going a few steps, he
+falls on his knees. We manage to get him up. Will he start off again?
+Certainly not. He plants his feet firmly on the ground and puts up a
+most lively resistance. We can't make him budge an inch.
+
+The English are blowing up, one by one, all the bridges around us, so
+as to cut off the advance of the Germans. After each explosion we begin
+to dread the next one. They shake the house and make the furniture
+slide around. The people living near these bridges all had to leave;
+the inhabitants of Condé are taking refuge on our plateau, where they
+can watch at a safe distance the masses of stone hurled violently into
+the air by the explosions.
+
+The Couilly bridge is as yet only mined. The English will not blow it
+up until they have crossed to the other side, in case they are obliged
+to retreat.
+
+Captain Simpson said that General Joffre's orders are to make a final
+stand at the Marne. His orders are explicit on this point. If our
+troops are forced back over the Marne, they will fall back to the
+Morin, but the enemy will not come that far, he adds.
+
+[Illustration: The junction of the Marne and the Canal de Chalifert,
+between Lagny and Esbly; the point nearest to Paris where bridges were
+destroyed during the Battle of the Marne]
+
+This morning the English artillery placed batteries at the bottom
+and top of Justice Hill, commanding the town of Meaux. From the
+road-maker's cabin where they have established an observation post,
+likewise from the roof of an isolated house on the top of the hill,
+they sweep the plain and direct movements of troops. Road-maker
+Duchesne is invited by the English to look through their field-glasses,
+and as the weather is very clear, he sees the Germans arrive in close
+formation and in great numbers beyond Lizy, marching towards La
+Ferté-sous-Jouarre.
+
+Artillery and infantry are on the move. Some of the troops have halted
+and are camping. At this moment a loud booming of cannon is heard in
+the direction of May-en-Multien, Acy. But Duchesne cannot make out
+anything in that quarter, as it is in a valley cut off by the heights
+of Monthyon and Penchard.
+
+In the direction of Trilbardou Chauconin, Neufmontiers, Penchard, he
+sees French troops coming up and taking positions.
+
+Presently, at two o'clock, the artillery receives orders to start
+for the forest of Le Mans, in an attempt to check the Germans who
+are coming down the hill and advancing towards the forest. The
+German troops seen near Lizy are marching at this moment upon
+Mary, Germigny-l'Evêque, Saint-Jean-les-deux-Jumeaux, Montceaux,
+Villemareuil, Pierrelevée, on the way to Coulommiers.
+
+English engineers continue to blow up bridges. Between three and four
+o'clock they blow up the bridges of Trilport, the railroad bridge, that
+of the State road, and likewise that between Moulins and Meaux.
+
+The Cornillon bridge, over the canal, is mined.
+
+The last inhabitants have left Meaux; they went by on the road at the
+same time as a detachment of infantry, falling back before the enemy.
+
+As they go along they shout to us: "They have blown up the bridges
+behind us. The Germans are already at Trilport!"
+
+"But," asks a woman, "isn't there any way of stopping them?"
+
+A lieutenant who heard her question answers: "You might as well try to
+stop the waters of the sea. They pour in from everywhere--from every
+highway and byway and back-alley--a regular tidal wave. Unless some
+miracle happens they will be here by to-night."
+
+It is impossible, even if we wished it, to leave by way of Esbly. There
+are no more trains! Impossible to leave on foot--the roads are choked
+with troops and supplies. Moreover, all the bridges are destroyed, the
+bridge of Lagny along with the rest. So we shall stay. God be merciful
+to us!
+
+There is no more mail--not the slightest communication with the
+outside. We are completely cut off from the rest of the world.
+
+The new English General Staff has taken up headquarters at the château
+of Quincy. The English are camping along State road number 36, between
+Quincy and Voisins.
+
+The roar of the cannon is coming nearer and nearer. The sound
+electrifies me. I cannot keep still, but go back and forth from Quincy
+to Esbly to get news, and more especially to try to send news to my
+brother. I seem to be the only human being on the roads.
+
+What a feeling of sadness it gives one to go through these empty
+villages. Every house is like a tomb. But those who have gone did not
+take away everything. Their hearts and souls remain behind, keeping
+watch over all that memory holds dear.
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+
+                                                  4 September, 1914.
+
+THE booming of cannon is still very near.
+
+Scarcely anyone is left in the neighborhood. The butcher has gone.
+Fortunately, the baker is staying, and as long as the flour holds out
+we shall have bread.
+
+If this state of isolation lasts long, it is proposed to kill and
+divide up the pet horse to feed those who are still here. Poor beast! I
+hope we shall not come to that pass. I feel a sort of gratitude to him.
+
+The few people still remaining in Quincy and Voisins seem to make one
+big family. We live almost in common. The town-crier, Marin, with the
+help of Pron, the road-maker, kill and distribute an ox that was left
+behind by a refugee. Mirat, the carpenter, goes a long distance now and
+again to get provisions of some kind, and so renders us a very great
+service. Everyone is doing something to help everyone else,--holding
+his neighbor by the hand, as it were.
+
+But we must try to find some sort of shelter, in case, owing to our
+position, we should be exposed to a bombardment.
+
+Near by are deep spacious wine-cellars, which with their massive arches
+look like vast cloisters. We prepare provisions and carry them to
+these cellars, so that we can take refuge there if need be.
+
+One of my aunts said she knew a very safe place where we could go if
+for any reason we were obliged to leave both the house and the cellar.
+It is one of the most isolated nooks in the plaster quarries, and is in
+the form of a trench. It would be impossible to find us there.
+
+But we shall have to give up that "very safe place." My aunt came in a
+little while ago much excited. She has discovered that her hiding-place
+is inhabited! And by whom? By the Boches themselves! She saw their
+heads emerging from this kind of trench. They had carefully covered
+their shining helmets with grass. There were ten or more of them, and
+several cavalrymen farther on.
+
+Perhaps it would be prudent to bury some of our things. I ask one of
+our old friends to help me dig a hole in the garden. We have planned to
+dig it this evening.
+
+Meanwhile, I go to the hospital at Quincy, reaching there just
+as Sister Jules and Sister Marie are getting ready to go to
+Pont-aux-Dames. Sister Jules has arranged all her dressings and
+surgical instruments with the most painstaking care.[1]
+
+[Illustration: _Route national_ from Couilly to the Demi-Lune, a hard,
+straight hill, over a mile and a quarter long]
+
+The road is almost deserted, except for an occasional refugee who goes
+by on foot. The English are digging trenches at Demi-Lune in Mareuil
+Street, near the State road. Trenches are being made also beyond the
+Quincy plaster quarry, near the road to Mont and at Ségy.
+
+There is an encampment in the plain in front of the park of the
+château. It is meal time. With very evident pleasure the men are eating
+raw tomatoes. They are also taking great satisfaction in some jam that
+looks most appetizing. The jam comes in large cans decorated with
+pictures of the fruit of which it is made.
+
+Every little while the earth trembles under our feet. We now hear
+cannon booming all around us.
+
+This morning I saw a man who has just been to Meaux. He tells me that
+as he was going along the Magny road, in a place called Pageotte, a
+German automobile stopped in front of the demolished bridge. An officer
+got out and angrily inquired of several bystanders if it was long since
+the bridge had been destroyed.
+
+"Yes, yesterday," they answered.
+
+"Then," said he, "what happened to the patrol that was ordered to go
+this way this morning?"
+
+"The men swam over, together with their horses."
+
+Not being able to cross over himself the officer ordered his chauffeur
+to turn back. He was escorted by two soldiers carrying rifles.
+
+This evening there is very little bread in the neighborhood. I meet a
+tall young Englishman looking for bread for himself and his comrades.
+I think there is some at home, so I tell him to follow me. When we
+reach the door, he refuses to come in and I have to hand him the bread
+through the window. We have very little left. Will the baker make more
+to-morrow? He carries off the bread, but is especially happy at being
+given some raw tomatoes. Always tomatoes! There is nothing you can
+give them that pleases them so much. But you have to hand them out
+through the window. One of the men who speaks very good French tells
+us they are under strict orders not to go inside a house on any pretext
+whatsoever. And they obey implicitly.
+
+Another man comes and asks us for a crucifix. He manages to explain to
+me that he is engaged to be married, that perhaps to-morrow he will be
+killed, and he wants to send a souvenir to his young lady. We are glad
+to give him one. Before he goes, he wraps up his parcel, and in return
+offers to forward a letter to my brother by one of their messengers.
+
+At nightfall a platoon of English come down from Huiry to search the
+Aulnois woods. Germans have been seen there.
+
+Part of the men are detailed to beat the woods while the rest with
+astonishing agility and suppleness lie down on the ground and crawl
+away to hide, either lying flat or kneeling on the edge or inside of
+the ditch by the road. (This road is the continuation of Huiry Street
+towards the Aulnois woods, and is called Cat Lane.) If the Germans are
+driven out of the woods they will be obliged to go along this road.
+
+Our old friend kept his promise to come to the house, and we
+immediately set about preparing the hiding-place for our treasures.
+While he was digging in the garden I heard very distinctly in the
+garden next door, on the other side of the wall, a dull thud that
+sounded like someone falling, then the same noise a second time.
+Certainly two men had jumped over the wall into the garden. Our friend
+heard it too, and motioned to me to know if he was to continue. Keeping
+my eye on the wall, I nodded to him to go on.
+
+Hearing nothing more, I was tempted to go to the door in the garden
+wall that opens on the little woods to see if the English were
+continuing their search, so as to tell them to go into the garden
+next door. I don't know why I did not carry out this plan, unless
+because I was too much absorbed in putting the finishing touches to
+our hiding-place. It was lucky for me, possibly, for I might have
+found myself face to face with the Boches. The noises we heard were
+very likely made by two Germans jumping over the wall to escape being
+caught. While the English were watching for them in the road, they
+reached the garden from the rear, then Pavé-des-Roizes, and from there
+slipped away in single file in the direction of Demi-Lune. (I learned
+this detail from a woman who saw them.)
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+
+[1] After rendering various services during the Battle of the Marne,
+the annex at Pont-aux-Dames had to be closed. No official order came
+permitting us to receive wounded there. This order did not come until
+January, 1915, and then solely for Quincy, which has been in operation
+since that date as Auxiliary Hospital Number 112, under the intelligent
+and devoted direction of Madame René Benoist, President of the cantonal
+committee of the "Union of the Women of France."
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+
+                                                  5 September, 1914.
+
+THERE is no one left in the streets. The place is deserted. The English
+left this morning at three o'clock. Cannon are raging.
+
+While we were at lunch a woman stopped before our window a moment in
+her flight and said to us, "From your window you must be able to see
+the firing of the cannon. The light can be seen from here." In fact,
+from the upper story we can distinguish plainly a veritable whirlwind
+of artillery. It is on the plain of Monthyon that the firing is the
+most sustained. Mingled with the roar of cannon and the rattle of
+machine guns we can hear men shouting and trumpets sounding the charge.
+They tell us it is our brave Zouaves and our Moroccan sharp-shooters
+who are down there in the valley, while the enemy artillery is on
+the hills. With the naked eye we can see very plainly brown specks
+advancing in columns.
+
+Shells are bursting three miles from us as the crow flies. Black and
+white tufts mount and spread about in the air. Under these tufts fires
+spring up, and farmhouses, woods, and mills burst into flames.
+
+The fire and noise are hellish!
+
+We have in front of us the magnificent panorama formed by the heights
+of Monthyon and Penchard, Chauconin, Neufmontiers; in the background,
+Chambry and Barcy. All these little wooded hill-tops stand out like
+lace-work against the clear sky. In the lowlands, on the right of the
+valley, is Meaux, with its cathedral towering over it; below, in the
+foreground, winds the Marne; between us and the river are the great
+trees of the Aulnois woods and our own garden.
+
+Can it be possible that in this marvellous setting, in this peaceful
+countryside and radiant sunshine, men are killing each other? Each of
+the combatants claims God on his side. And yet, did not His messenger
+on earth say: "Love one another"? What have the sons of men done with
+Christ's doctrines of love--charity--peace?
+
+As long as time endures, in order that ideals may live, must the earth
+be drenched with blood and tears?
+
+What harvest will be garnered from all this mowing down of tender
+youth, cut off here before our eyes?
+
+Oh, the crushing guilt that weighs on the instigators of such a war,
+and the terrible responsibility that is on their heads!
+
+Civilization seems nothing but an empty word, that no longer has the
+slightest meaning. We are not, alas, ripe for universal peace. And yet,
+how happy nations could be if these mountains of gold that are being
+melted up for their destruction could be used for their well-being!
+Shall we ever attain to the ideal of peace? Perhaps, but before that
+time what suffering will be ours!
+
+For the present, we must drive out the invaders, thrust back this
+cursed and ambitious people which has long been preparing for war, and
+reduce it to impotence. Our brave soldiers are setting at the task body
+and soul.
+
+All political parties have put aside their differences and, for the
+sake of the common cause, are walking hand in hand.
+
+May victory keep and strengthen this spirit! It would be the first step
+on the road to happiness.
+
+While the battle rages before us, our prayers go out to the heroes who
+are suffering and dying so near at hand. Each cannon-shot, as we think
+of the bloody trail it ploughs in its path, is like a stab in the heart.
+
+And my thoughts are with the wounded as they try to crawl out of reach
+of bullets, huddling in a furrow, crouching behind a bush. Some of
+them with their little remaining strength write on the back of an old
+envelope their last farewells.
+
+The vision of my brother rises before me. He is bleeding, near unto
+death. He calls for help. Every movement that he makes wrings from
+him a groan. By a superhuman effort, goaded on by the thought of his
+children and his longing to see them again, he succeeds in dragging
+himself to the banks of the Marne, in the hope of finding help. To
+assuage his fever he tries to dip his hand in the cool water. But his
+arm refuses to obey. His hand is rigid. No one to aid him. Shattered,
+weak, he lies there waiting--waiting for the help that never comes.
+
+I am in despair. Surely there are wounded men in agony on the banks of
+the Marne.
+
+If anyone would go with me, perhaps we could organize some sort of
+relief work. But how are we to get to the other side of the river? All
+the fishing boats, even the wash boat, have been sunk by the English.
+Can we do nothing but stand waiting here--useless--helpless?
+
+[Illustration: The road leading away from the Château de Condé across
+the bridge over the Grand Morin, looking away from the château]
+
+My brother's little girls are playing peacefully at our side. Like
+them, we are calm. Not for a moment are we afraid. Without saying a
+word to each other, we seem to think the same thoughts, and we remain
+at our post until evening, with full confidence. But our emotion is
+very great.
+
+To what merciful providence do we owe our certainty that the enemy will
+not reach us, and the tranquillity with which we await the end of this
+tragedy? I confess that I do not understand.
+
+One by one the stars break through the veil of darkness that comes down
+gently upon us. Now myriads of stars are shining in the heavens.
+
+It is eleven o'clock. Houses are in flames, and forests. Here and there
+in the distance camp-fires are burning and trench-rockets burst in
+showers, making the valley seem like a great fiery furnace, an ocean
+of flame.
+
+How insignificant are our own troubles in the presence of these heaped
+up ruins, this destruction of men and things!
+
+On the highest tree of the Aulnois woods I have just seen a little
+light, square in shape, which alternately appears and disappears.
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+
+                                                  6 September, 1914.
+
+MY first thought this morning was to find out what the light was
+that I saw last night. I recognized the tree from which it came, and
+discovered that several branches had been cut to make it easier to
+climb. At the very top an opening has been made where the light was
+evidently placed. The leaves just above are scorched. Underneath, a big
+branch, fastened across between two other branches, forms a platform.
+To whom can I report this discovery? There are no soldiers left in the
+neighborhood.
+
+The booming of cannon kept up all night long, though it was not so
+loud as during the day. Before sunrise it began again in full force.
+
+The same sights as yesterday.
+
+The noise of the cannonade, though still very violent, seems to
+be shifting and going farther away. Can it be that our soldiers,
+after a hundred years, are going to repeat nearly in the same spot
+the strategy of Napoleon, who saved Paris by cutting off Blücher's
+army--that terrible Blücher, who likewise made his name a by-word by
+his vandalism? We have before us his worthy descendants--Von Kluck and
+Von Bülow. Nor will they break through. I feel more and more sure of it.
+
+On our left are the army of Maunoury and the Moroccan troops;
+immediately behind us, the English Army under General French, and the
+French under General Franchet d'Espérey.
+
+To-day I saw some Uhlans! They are beginning to venture out of their
+hiding-places, knowing that they can do so with perfect security. I met
+them on the road at noon. They had just been to Couilly to get their
+horses shod. Their uniforms look very much like those of the English,
+but are more greenish in tone.
+
+They went along at a jog-trot, with their lances under their left arm,
+point downward. They passed by a few yards from me, intent on examining
+the château. Two or three of them glanced at me indifferently.
+
+This patrol disappeared over the hill to the right of Quincy. Others
+(or else the same ones) were seen during the day at Huiry, where, with
+their staff maps spread out before them, they inquired the name of the
+commune where they were, and also asked for water for their horses.
+
+This evening a patrol of the 3d Hussars is looking for them.
+
+Several nights ago, Delautre, the store-keeper at Demi-Lune was
+awakened by a loud knocking at his door and on his shutters. The
+visitor got no answer, so he went away to the other houses in the
+place. Delautre, who cautiously opened the blind a crack, heard someone
+say: "They have all cleared out. They must have got cold feet. We shall
+see to-morrow."
+
+Very early the next morning two men appeared at Delautre's house and
+said to him: "You were at home last night. Why didn't you answer? If we
+had felt like it we could have come in without knocking. We know your
+house. You have a back door that's easy enough to open." With that they
+pushed by him and walked in.
+
+One of them went on with a sneer: "Ha, so you're scared of the Boches,
+are you? Well, I'll give you a chance to see a few." He went out, put
+up his hand as if to give a signal in the direction of the château, and
+Delautre saw several horsemen emerge from behind the wall of the park.
+They came galloping up to Delautre, making their horses prance about
+on the grass for his special delectation. They laughed heartily at his
+dismay.
+
+The two civilians demanded drinks for everybody, and after exchanging
+a few words in German with the one who seemed to be the leader, they
+started down the Couilly hill, waving and nodding to the cavalry men;
+the latter, after watching them a minute, and waving back, galloped off
+towards Moulin-à-Vent, keeping along the park wall.
+
+Delautre is terrified by this visit. One of these men is not a stranger
+to him. When he is questioned, he is unwilling to give other details
+than the ones above, saying that people would be too amazed if he let
+it be known who this man was. He has been entreated to tell, but he
+always refuses.
+
+"Don't talk to me about that patrol," Delautre[2] would say every time
+anyone mentioned it. "I cannot believe what I saw with my own eyes. I
+think of it constantly. After the war I will speak, and either that man
+or I will have to leave this place."
+
+Were there several patrols?
+
+I think so, for Monsieur Damoiseau, a citizen of Voisins, had the same
+adventure as my aunt, this time near the oak woods, above the Mareuil
+quarries. He also went there in the hope of finding a hiding-place for
+his family.
+
+On the plateau (over opposite the one where my aunt went) he saw
+five German soldiers observing the plain of Iles, and several others
+watching the road to Quincy. The hill where they were stationed
+overlooks Voisins and Quincy on one side, and on the other the plain
+which a few days later was to witness the Battle of the Marne. Not
+knowing whether to go forward or back, Monsieur Damoiseau stood stock
+still. The Boche who was in command asked in perfectly good French what
+he was doing there.
+
+"Officer," he replied, "they tell me the Germans are coming, so I am
+trying to find a place where my family and I can hide."
+
+[Illustration: Wounded soldiers at the hospital of Quincy. The author,
+with her friend Miss Mildred Aldrich by her side, stands in the back
+row]
+
+"Are you sure you aren't on a spying expedition for the English?"
+
+"I didn't know there were any English about here."
+
+"Well, there are. I know it whether you do or not. But where do you
+live?"
+
+"In Voisins, the little village you see yonder in the valley."
+
+"Yes, I know the place. Well, be off, and don't let me catch you around
+here again, or I'll shoot you."
+
+The poor soul didn't need much urging, but took to his heels and ran
+home as fast as his old legs could carry him, telling his wife and
+daughter not to stir out of the house.
+
+Every morning people discover that rabbits or chickens are missing.
+Several garden-gates have been forced open, and palings torn away. The
+German patrols go out at night to water their horses and get food. They
+have been seen several nights crossing the ford at Voisins.
+
+This evening the battle lasted until nine o'clock.
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+
+[2] Delautre died suddenly eighteen months later.
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+
+                                                  7 September, 1914.
+
+ABOUT seven o'clock this morning English scouts arrived belonging to
+General Snow's division. For two whole days we had been alone, almost
+forsaken, it seemed to us. It's joy to see those khaki uniforms once
+more.
+
+They are as correct and as gentlemanly as ever, our friends the
+English. A young officer is kind enough to give us news, and good news,
+too. The Germans are beginning to fall back. Already a pontoon-bridge
+has been thrown across the Marne at Meaux. After trying to cross
+sixteen times, and sixteen times seeing their efforts of no avail,
+the Germans gave up the attempt to cross the river. The French General
+Staff has already arrived there, and Galliéni's army is advancing from
+Paris.
+
+All this good news fills us with joy.
+
+From now on we shall see no more Germans.
+
+Troops are beginning to arrive. A regiment of infantry went through
+Voisins this afternoon. These men have come on foot from Paris. What a
+fearful march! They still have several miles to go before reaching a
+cantonment. Some of them drag themselves along painfully, their faces
+streaming with perspiration, their legs tottering under their weight,
+staggering like drunken men. Others, with a show of cheerfulness, hum
+marching songs to keep up their courage, but what a monotonous sound it
+is!
+
+They are hot and thirsty, poor boys! They need something to drink. We
+go out with a pitcher of fruit syrup and water. They are not allowed to
+stop, so we follow on beside them and fill their cups which they take
+out hastily as soon as they catch sight of us. It seems to please them
+and renew their courage.
+
+My little nieces are with us. The eldest, aged three, is holding up
+fruit which she takes from "Gamma's ba'ket." One of the men, as if to
+find new strength in the touch of her fresh childish cheeks, asks if he
+may kiss her, saying with tears in his eyes: "I have a little girl of
+my own at home about her age, with light hair like hers." Several of
+the men kiss her as they march along, and it makes them happy.
+
+Poor things! Will they ever see again those little ones of whom our
+children remind them?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At the same moment, in a far-off home, the mother presses close to her
+breast her youngest born, who is asleep. The child stirs slightly.
+A gentle breath moves her fair curls. Do not waken, little one. Thy
+father kisses thee.
+
+The mother's face is growing worn. The sister is silent. The
+bride-to-be is on her knees. They all have but one thought--the Absent
+One!
+
+How many among those men who are marching by will see their own again?
+
+Alas! Many of these women, these mothers, these sisters, will all their
+lives remain fixed in the same attitude--waiting. By force of habit,
+through the long years, each of them will keep her ear strained for the
+footsteps on the road, her eye fastened on the door, hoping against
+hope to see her loved one enter there.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The State road is full of troops, marching in close formation. The
+ranks extend from the foot of Couilly hill as far as the eye can reach,
+in the direction of Meaux, along the streets of Voisins and Quincy.
+The 8th Division of the 4th Army Corps, the 115th, 117th, and 124th
+regulars, the 148th, 246th, etc., cavalry goes towards Charny.
+
+A captain asks me to show him the road to Saint-Fiacre. While I give
+him the information he wants, I walk along a moment beside his horse.
+This movement of troops interests me.
+
+Before leaving me, he expresses his surprise that I should be here all
+alone, and asks if I am not afraid.
+
+"No," I answered, "I am not afraid. Perhaps I shall be, later. Do you
+think, Captain, that there is still danger? The Germans are falling
+back, aren't they?"
+
+"Yes, but who can tell? Tomorrow you might see very ugly things. They
+are not far away yet."
+
+"They evacuated Penchard yesterday, didn't they?"
+
+"Yes, and they left behind them unspeakably foul traces of their
+Kultur."
+
+"But, Captain, seeing all these troops here reassures me. We were two
+whole days without setting eyes on a soldier. That was the time to be
+afraid. All the troops you are bringing up will drive them back still
+further. And besides, Captain, if danger threatened, wouldn't these
+troops insure the escape of the civilians who are left?"
+
+"If it were in their power, certainly."
+
+"But, Captain, let me say again, I have faith in your soldiers."
+
+"You are quite right," he said, as he shook hands with me and wished
+me good luck.
+
+"For my part, Captain, I am sure good luck will go with you."
+
+The 117th stopped at Voisins. The soldiers are billeted everywhere, but
+preferably in the few houses that are still inhabited.
+
+This regiment, which made the retreat from Belgium, has just come on
+foot from Asnières where it had been sent to recuperate. Several of the
+men with bleeding and blistered feet stop me in the street to ask if I
+can give them socks. Unfortunately, I have none. All I can offer them
+is women's stockings, linen bandages, and talcum powder.
+
+[Illustration: Voisins-Quincy. Rue de Condé]
+
+For several days Boche aviators have been reconnoitring above us.
+One of them was only a hundred or two feet up, directly over the
+heights of Huiry. We thought he was going to land. He looked like an
+immense bat.
+
+This evening another one came. The soldiers were just building their
+fires to cook dinner, when the command was passed along: "Stand close
+to the walls." The street, which a minute before was swarming with
+people is, to all appearances, empty and deserted, nothing but a single
+row of men on either side, standing close to the houses.
+
+A platoon in a back street fires several times with machine guns. We
+watch anxiously.
+
+"It's hit," someone shouts.
+
+Sure enough, the 'plane gives a lurch and is certainly going to fall.
+
+It is out of control.
+
+But this was nothing but a trick. Once out of reach, it righted itself
+and shot straight forward in the direction of Coulommiers, where they
+say the Crown Prince and his staff are stationed.
+
+It was a great disappointment.
+
+The soldiers go on building their fires, making little square ovens
+of bricks. Rations have not arrived yet. Some of the men, worn out,
+stretch out on the ground to wait. It is getting dark.
+
+The sight of these haggard men, gray with dust, blowing on fires which
+cast fitful gleams on their wan faces, calls up visions of Dante.
+
+And still rations do not come. The men are too tired to wait, and lie
+down to sleep supperless in any sheltered spot they can find.
+
+The few who are not completely exhausted make a descent on the houses
+that are inhabited. They fall upon our garden and clean out our larder.
+The salad bowl and kettles not being large enough, they season and mix
+a huge salad in tubs and washboilers. It is all they will have to eat
+this evening.
+
+Scarcely anyone was courageous enough to wait for rations, which were
+delayed by the block on the roads and did not arrive until nearly ten
+o'clock. Not a single man gets up.
+
+The battle lasted very late last night.
+
+The officers went up on the plateau of Huiry to follow the artillery
+duel that was in progress, and they found it amazing.
+
+On one of my trips to-day I had the good luck to meet one of the few
+civilians. It is a man who has come from Chelles on foot. He has heard
+that Meaux, Crécy, Coulommiers and all the neighboring villages have
+been put to fire and sword. He wanted to see his people who live in
+this region. He had to swim across the Marne, and was obliged to go
+over and back several times in order to bring his clothing.
+
+He is to return to Paris by the same route. I gave him several letters
+which he was kind enough to take charge of. They are not of great
+importance--mostly messages to my friends from whom I feel so cut off
+at this moment, but I want very much to set my brother's mind at rest
+as to the fate of his children. The thought of his anxiety makes me
+unhappy.
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+
+                                                  8 September, 1914.
+
+WE were up at four this morning. The officers billeted in the house
+were not expecting to break camp until seven or eight o'clock, but they
+were suddenly roused by a messenger with orders to start at once. A
+hasty breakfast, and the signal for departure was given.
+
+I run out into the wet grass of the garden to gather all the roses I
+can find. I hand them to the soldiers as they leave us saying: "From
+your mothers--from your sisters."
+
+Tears come into their eyes, poor fellows! One of the officers takes my
+hand, kisses it and says:
+
+"Your reminding us of our mothers and sisters, Mademoiselle, touches
+us deeply. It is with much emotion that I tell you, in behalf of my
+comrades and my men, who are too moved to speak for themselves, how
+grateful we are for the gracious vision we shall carry away with us to
+the battlefield with these roses."
+
+I am afraid of breaking down, so I turn away abruptly and go to
+distribute fruit to the soldiers.
+
+Several weeks later I received from the mother of one of them a letter
+thanking me for the kindness I had done in her name.
+
+No need to thank me, Madam. In the face of the feelings that stirred
+me at that hour--feelings that I could not put into words--this act
+was small indeed. Those brave boys starting forth to face the cannon
+that boomed so near at hand--how could I make them understand that our
+prayers were with them--followed them? This poor makeshift was all I
+could find to let them know at this tragic moment that I longed to
+serve as a bond between them and their loved ones who were so far away.
+
+I could not help thinking, too, that if one of them were to fall, he
+would at least have this little flower with him, and so be less alone.
+
+We were just giving the last fruit and flowers to the late-comers when
+one of them came to tell us he had left a side of beef in a store-room.
+"We haven't time to carry this meat to the wagons, so if you do not
+take it, it will be wasted. It would be a pity if no one used it."
+
+What shall we do with it? And to think of those hungry boys who had no
+supper last night!
+
+We hardly know what to do with this enormous piece of meat. But to
+begin with, there's only one thing to do. My aunt and I carry it with
+great difficulty to a clean place and, after a fashion, cut off steaks
+which we broil rapidly and put between slices of bread. The men take
+eagerly all they can carry of these meat sandwiches and start off on a
+run to find their chums, who, they say, are going to have a "bully old
+time" eating them.
+
+Things strewn around everywhere indicate the haste of the departure.
+
+The cannonade was very heavy again last night.
+
+Yesterday--Monday--the battle was stationary. To-day it seems to be
+farther away; the firing is most intense over towards the Ourcq.
+
+After ten o'clock this morning there was not a single shot from the
+enemy.
+
+The English came down from Coutevroult this morning and have crossed
+the Marne.
+
+The French cuirassiers found a few Uhlans at Bouleurs, and cleared them
+out.
+
+[Illustration: Château in the park of the Actors' Home at Couilly. It
+was there that the commune's first provisional hospital was set up
+where the English and the French were cared for after the Battle of the
+Marne]
+
+About two o'clock this afternoon French soldiers marched past in the
+direction of the Ourcq.
+
+In the ambulance of the 115th regiment lay a poor boy suffering with
+dysentery. They could not take him farther, so he was left at Quincy,
+where he died a few days later in terrible agony. He is to be buried in
+the Quincy cemetery.
+
+It was just as I thought. There _were_ wounded men who succeeded in
+dragging themselves to the banks of the Marne.
+
+Sister Jules was summoned to dress the wounds of two Moroccan
+sharp-shooters who managed to crawl along by the river until they were
+opposite the village of Condé. There they were seen and picked up.
+
+The only horse and carriage left anywhere about was sent to
+Pont-aux-Dames to fetch Sister Jules. She was going through deserted
+Couilly when a military automobile, driven by two officers, came by and
+stopped.
+
+"Where are you going?" asked one of the officers in surprise.
+
+"There are wounded soldiers in Condé. I am carrying dressings for
+one of them and cupping-glasses for the other, who has difficulty in
+breathing."
+
+"Leave your carriage, Sister, and get into our automobile. We will have
+you there in five minutes."
+
+Sister Jules accepted readily, thanking Heaven for sending her the
+means to reach more quickly the bedside of those who needed her care.
+When she began working over her two wounded men, one of them showed her
+triumphantly a bullet he had just taken out of his foot himself! The
+man speaks French a little.
+
+Hussars on patrol on the hill at Montpichet have killed Bavarian
+soldiers, they say. A young Boche is brought to Pont-aux-Dames. He is
+wounded rather seriously, but he appears to be suffering more from
+fright than from pain. His fears do not subside until he sees the kind
+face of Sister Jules bending over him.
+
+Our hospital--the annex at Pont-aux-Dames, which is only
+semi-official--is installed in a wing of the house of the great
+comedian, Coquelin, alongside the wing where aged actors have their
+home. Among the retired actors who are there at this moment are
+Messieurs Monti, Gravier, Didier, Victor Gay, Mesdames Clarence,
+Antonia Laurent, Marie Georges, and the director, Monsieur Hervouet.
+They are all presided over by their dean, Angèle Desraux, ninety-five
+years old, whom they call "grandmother."
+
+All these good people were much frightened last Sunday by seeing
+Bavarians go by. They were in their dining-room when they saw them
+pass. The pointed helmets, sixteen of them, showed above the sash
+curtains.
+
+[Illustration: Tomb of Coquelin in the park of the Actors' Home at
+Couilly
+
+_Qu'il dorme dans ce beau jardin ses vieux comédiens le
+gardent._--Rostand]
+
+After luncheon the old people were taking their walk in the park
+when they heard voices not far away. Behind the tomb of Coquelin, to
+their great amazement, they saw the Bavarians sitting on the grass
+eating their luncheon. Suddenly two shots interrupted this rustic meal,
+a signal for the rally, doubtless, and the men mounted their horses and
+galloped off up the hill.
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+
+                                                  9 September, 1914.
+
+THIS morning at nine, armed boats went down the canal towards Trilport.
+
+A French cavalry division on the way to Paris gave us news to-day of
+victory. The Germans have been pushed back forty-five miles!
+
+Miss Aldrich came hurrying down the hill at the very moment I was
+starting to run up. With a single impulse, each rushes to share her joy
+with the other.
+
+We feel as if we had just awakened from a dream. It seems to me these
+three days have decided the fate of France. All the glory of it
+belongs to those heroes whose dead bodies strew the plain. Behind this
+rampart we are safe.
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+
+                                                  14 September, 1914.
+
+AT the top of the hill, in the same spot where we watched with aching
+hearts the passing of the refugees, we are now watching for the
+inhabitants of the countryside, who are beginning to come back.
+
+It is a soft, mellow autumn day. Everything is wrapped in a delicate
+veil of mist, and the sun, sifting through gently, touches the houses
+with a pale golden light.
+
+Ah, but what a good and beautiful day! They are coming home!
+
+Yes, there they come, slowly, in little groups.
+
+[Illustration: On the banks of the Marne]
+
+Several black specks at the foot of the hill! Impatiently we wait until
+they are near enough for us to recognize them. How different is the
+look in their faces, and how different their whole bearing from that of
+the departure!
+
+We are happy to see once more even those who were most indifferent
+to us. They are like members of our own family returning from a long
+journey.
+
+Ah! How glad they are to catch sight of the roofs of their houses down
+below them in the valley!
+
+In a few words they tell us what they have suffered. They have
+experienced in their wanderings all the anguish of the homeless. How
+dark the future looked to them, whereas now, their houses, safe from
+harm, full of sweet welcome, open wide their doors to receive them.
+
+Their home--symbol of the native land--is still there. How could they
+have gone away from it? Could anything be more beautiful to their eyes
+than their humble dwelling--their little white house?
+
+How clearly they understand now that love of one small corner of the
+earth, that love of home, which years of peaceful happiness had perhaps
+made dim.
+
+Beloved spot where one has lived and loved and suffered, we have all
+needed this hard trial to show us how we cherish you.
+
+So they are coming home.
+
+[Illustration: The home of Mlle. Henriette Cuvru-Magot, with the gate
+open, showing part of the front garden]
+
+And there, in the distance, where sky meets valley, our heroes lie
+dead.
+
+Beautiful young heroes, flower and hope of our land, who have given
+their lives unfalteringly here, that our homes might be saved to us!
+
+This thought pervades all the home-coming, and the gratitude of those
+who are returning floods forth to those who are no more.
+
+Now the setting sun stains the sky with crimson, and forms, with bands
+of azure and of white, an immense standard which it spreads like a
+winding-sheet over those glorious heroes who have entered upon the
+eternal life.
+
+
+
+
+NOTE BY THE AUTHOR
+
+
+    Our humble village has nothing very noteworthy, unless
+    perhaps its magnificent situation on a hillside overlooking
+    the Marne and the Grand-Morin, with beautiful views in every
+    direction.
+
+    I am going to jot down here a passage which sums up the
+    history of the commune, taken from "Excursions in the Valley
+    of the Grand-Morin," by Monsieur Georges Husson:
+
+    "The Commune of Quincy is one of the largest of the Canton
+    of Crécy. Built on a high plateau, it comprises the village
+    proper, of pleasing aspect, and several hamlets: Ségy,
+    Moulignon, Voisins, Jonchery, Huiry, Demi-Lune, etc.
+
+    "The oldest document where Quincy is mentioned is a charter
+    dated 1257, in which King Louis IX gives permission to
+    cultivate certain lands of the village, in return for the
+    payment of seven measures of barley at Christmas, and nine
+    deniers for Easter eggs.
+
+    "From the thirteenth to the fifteenth centuries, passing by
+    the long line of over-lords, quite without interest, we find
+    nothing remarkable in the history of Quincy. But during the
+    Wars of the League, June 12, 1590, the village was the scene
+    of deplorable events.
+
+    "Chevalier de Thury, Governor of Meaux, and Sieur de
+    Saint-Paul, Governor of Brie, at the head of two thousand
+    men, besieged the village, where intrenchments had been
+    made. The inhabitants were forced to retreat before the
+    besiegers; part of them took refuge in the church, and
+    climbed up into the galleries that were pierced with
+    loopholes. From there they attacked the Leaguers and killed
+    fifty or more of them. The latter, exasperated, set fire to
+    the seats in the church, and the defenders, men and women,
+    about a hundred, were smothered.
+
+    "Meanwhile, the inhabitants of Quincy still held out, and
+    did not yield until about midnight, after a desperate
+    defence. They were condemned to pay a large sum of money,
+    and the Leaguers did not take their departure until they had
+    pillaged the unhappy village.
+
+    "In the nineteenth century, at the time of the invasion of
+    1814, the Allies established their headquarters at Quincy.
+    Frederic William III, King of Prussia, passed the nights of
+    March 28 and 29 in the New Château.
+
+    "Alexander I, Czar of Russia, spent the same two nights at
+    the Old Château. One can still see the room in which he
+    slept. The furniture has been carefully preserved.
+
+    "Thanks, doubtless, to their illustrious guests, the commune
+    was spared at that time."
+
+    In the twentieth century, to-day,--September 9, 1914,--it is
+    solely due to the valor of our soldiers that the village has
+    not been subjected to the worst kind of horrors.
+
+                                                  H. C.-M.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Transcriber's Notes:
+
+Page 9, "ont" changed to "out" (out anything more)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Beyond the Marne, by Henriette Cuvru-Magot
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44599 ***