ON the 26th of October 1901 a monument, standing at the entrance of the Promenade des Charbonniers, near the Place du ChÂtelet, and dedicated to the memory of the children of Eure-et-Loir, who laid down their lives for their fatherland, was unveiled by M. Caillaux, the Minister of Finance. The monument was designed by M. NÉnot, and consists of a triumphal arch in the Classic style, crowned by a pediment bearing the arms of Chartres, ChÂteaudun, Dreux and Nogent-le-Rotrou. This is accompanied by three groups in bronze: on either side an artilleryman and a foot soldier of the mobile; in the centre, beneath the arch itself, the principal group, representing ‘France calling to the defence.’ It consists of a female figure, who personifies the Fatherland and the Republic, brandishing in one hand a flag tattered and torn with bullets, and pointing with the other in the direction of the enemy. And an officer at her feet fires a revolver in that direction.

To the France of to-day this monument is not a mere memorial of the past and useless valour of her sons, but a warning also, lest she should forget the coming of the Prussians in 1870, her own military unpreparedness, and, it should be, her own fatal political weakness. Something, too, it doubtless expresses of that thirst for revenge which threw her some years ago into the arms of Russia, and which that alliance was really certain to prevent her from gratifying.

It was on Friday, the 30th of September 1870, that the Prussian soldiers appeared for the first time near Chartres.[102] Three weeks later ChÂteaudun fell, after a desperate and heroic defence, for which that picturesque and ancient town paid the dear price of failure. Two days later the enemy marched in force upon Chartres. The tirailleurs and mobiles and troops of the National Guard, who endeavoured to defend the town, after vain marching and counter-marching, with the same generous ardour and utter ineffectiveness as had distinguished the movements of the other armies before the disasters of Wissembourg, WÖrth and Sedan, returned exhausted. Without firing a shot they had been rendered incapable of fighting. Fighting in any case would have been useless. It was wisely decided to capitulate, and on the 21st the Mayor and Prefect of the Department drove out to Morancez to save the city and Cathedral, by surrendering them to General von Wittich, from the inevitable destruction of which ChÂteaudun had given them a terrible example. What they saw on their way of the French defence and the Prussian advance convinced civilians and military men alike that it was impossible to hope to defend Chartres. It was agreed that half the French garrison should evacuate the town, and that the Prussians should halt at the Three Bridges till half-past four, and then take possession. When the news of the capitulation was heard by the troops assembled on the Boulevard Chasles,[103] they protested, and

Old Houses in the Rue Ste MÊme
Old Houses in the Rue Ste MÊme

raised the cry of treason, which was the watchword of the whole war.

It had been expressly stipulated that the National Guard should be disarmed, and Colonel Heiduck, who conducted the negotiations at Morancez, had demanded the surrender of 2000 rifles. ‘But,’ replied M. Labiche, the prefect, ‘there never have been more than 1300, and we really have not time to get any more to make up the 2000.’ With such inadequate means of defence, and with the threat of immediate bombardment from the artillery, which was ranged in a semi-circle round the town on the south-west side, hanging over their heads, the representatives of Chartres behaved wisely in yielding at once. The stranger at least cannot regret that the Cathedral was preserved from the ordeal of a bombardment.

‘The Prussian troops,’ said the Cologne Gazette, ‘entered Chartres with bands playing and saluted with enthusiastic cheers Prince Albert of Prussia, whom they marched past. Next morning presented a striking scene when these German warriors met in the famous crypt of the Cathedral, and visited by the light of the lamps every part of that splendid subterranean building.’

The occupation of Chartres lasted for five months—the place, of course, was important to hold during the siege of Paris—but the inhabitants would appear to have suffered very little, except from German music. This is how M. Caillot, the historian of the occupation, describes the behaviour of the Prussians on the morrow of their entry.

‘Towards nine o’clock in the morning their infernal music, which they had had the indecency to parade through the town the night before, echoed through the Place des Épars. The officers, smart and pomaded like circus-clowns, strutted round the musicians and saluted each other with a stiffness that they seemed to have borrowed from the English. Out of the hotels and houses they poured in an endless stream, men of all colours, sizes and ages, stiff, proud and haughty, with all the airs of conquerors.’

Conquerors, after all, they were, but though, like all the French writers of the period, M. Caillot refers to the Germans as barbarians and savages, they seem to have done little that can honestly be called savage—unless leaving without paying their bill, which amounted to nearly half a million francs, can be considered so. The fact is that, according to the unanimous testimony of foreign observers who accompanied the army, the moderation of the German soldiers was as remarkable as their successes.

During the weary months that ensued, the Chartrains remained as ignorant of what was going on in the Department and round Paris as the beleaguered Parisians themselves. The same unfounded hopes and false rumours, the same invincible optimism and futile belief in the ‘plan of Trochu,’ in successful sorties from Paris or in the victories of the army of the Loire prevailed as in Paris itself. They are recorded in M. Caillot’s little volume with something of the same pathos, but not with the same spirit that distinguishes Francisque Sarcey’s Le SiÈge de Paris. There we learn how the Chartrains listened to the battle of Loigny raging in the distance, and thought that the sound of the Prussian artillery was that of the French guns till the arrival of 2400 French prisoners told them the bitter truth, and how they rejoiced at the lyrical proclamations of Gambetta, only to be reduced to despair at the news of the fall of OrlÉans.

They learnt on the 29th of January, with bitter grief and mortification, that Paris had been forced at last to capitulate, and from that time onwards they were busy with the payment of their share of the impositions and indemnities that were inflicted upon the conquered nation.

The Prussians left Chartres on the 16th of March 1871.