G. A. Henty The Young Franc Tireurs, and Their Adventures in the Franco-Prussian War
Preface
The present story was written and published a few months, only, after the termination of the Franco-German war. At that time the planwhich I have since carried out in The Young Buglers, Cornet of Horse, and In Times of Peril, and which I hope to continue, in further volumesof giving, under the guise of historical tales, full and accurate accounts of all the leading events of great wars, had not occurred to me. My object was only to represent one phase of the strugglethe action of the bodies of volunteer troops known as franc tireurs.
The story is laid in France and is, therefore, written from the French point of view. The names, places, and dates have been changed; but circumstances and incidents are true. There were a good many English among the franc tireurs, and boys of from fifteen to sixteen were by no means uncommon in their ranks. Having been abroad during the whole of the war, I saw a good deal of these irregulars, and had several intimate friends amongst them. Upon the whole, these corps did much less service to the cause of France than might have been reasonably expected. They were too often badly led, and were sometimes absolutely worse than useless.
But there were brilliant exceptions, and very many of those daring actions were performed whichwhile requiring heroism and courage of the highest kindare unknown to the world in general, and find no place in history. Many of the occurrences in this tale are related, almost in the words in which they were described to me, by those who took part in them; and nearly every fact and circumstance actually occurred, according to my own knowledge. Without aspiring to the rank of a history, however slight, the story will give you a fair idea of what the life of the franc tireurs was, and of what some of them actually went through, suffered, and performed.
Yours sincerely,
The Author.
Chapter 1: The Outbreak Of War
In the marketplace, the excitement and buzz of conversation were at their highest. It was the market day, and the whole area of the square was full. Never, in the memory of the oldest inhabitant, had such a market been seen in Dijon. For the ten days preceding, France had been on the tiptoe of expectation; and every peasant's wife and daughter, for miles round the town, had come with their baskets of eggs, fowls, or fruits, to attend the market and to hear the news. So crowded was it, that it was really difficult to move about. People were not, however, unmindful of bargainsfor the French peasant woman is a thrifty body, and has a shrewd eye to sousso the chaffering and haggling, which almost invariably precede each purchase, went on as briskly as usual but, between times, all thoughts and all tongues ran upon the great event of the day.
It was certainquite certain, nowthat there was to be war with Prussia. The newspapers had said so, for some days; but then, bah! who believes a newspaper? Monsieur le Prefect had published the news, today; and everyone knows that Monsieur le Prefect is not a man to say a thing, unless it were true. Most likely the Emperor, himself, had written to him. Oh! There could be no doubt about it, now.
It was singular to hear, amidst all the talk, that the speculation and argument turned but little upon the chances of the war, itself; it being tacitly assumed to be a matter of course that the Germans would be defeated, with ease, by the French. The great subject of speculation was upon the points which directly affected the speakers. Would the Mobiles be called out, and forced to march; would soldiers who had served their time be recalled to the service, even if they were married; and would next year's conscripts be called out, at once? These were the questions which everyone asked, but no one could answer. In another day or two, it was probable that the orders respecting these matters would arrive and, in the meantime, the merry
Burgundian girls endeavored to hide their own uneasiness by laughingly predicting an early summons to arms to the young men of their acquaintance.
At the Lyceeor great schoolthe boys are just coming out. They are too excited to attend to lessons, and have been released hours before their usual time. They troop out from the great doors, talking and gesticulating. Their excitement, however, takes a different form to that which that of English boys would do, under the same circumstances. There was no shouting, no pushing, no practical jokes. The French boy does not play; at least, he does not play roughly. When young he does, indeed, sometimes play at buchona game something similar to the game of buttons, as played by English street boys. He may occasionally play at marbles but, after twelve years of age, he puts aside games as beneath him. Prisoners' base, football, and cricket are alike unknown to him; and he considers any exertion which would disarrange his hair, or his shirt collar, as barbarous and absurd. His amusements are walking in the public promenade, talking politics with the gravity of a man of sixty, and discussing the local news and gossip.