The Plébiscite; or, A Miller's Story of the War: By One of the 7,500,000 Who Voted "Yes"Erckmann-Chatrian
Philosophy
The Plébiscite; or, A Miller's Story of the War: By One of the 7,500,000 Who Voted "Yes"
Erckmann-Chatrian
France -- History -- Third Republic, 1870-1940 -- Fiction
The same evening, an extraordinary event happened; we received a little
straw! We lay in the open air, under our carts, because the village at
which we had just arrived was full of troops. I had only twelve sous
left, and George but twenty or thirty. He went to buy a little bread
and eau-de-vie in a public-house; we dipped our bread in it, and in
this way we were just able to sustain life.
Every time the corporal passed, who had laid his hand upon me, my knife
moved of its own accord in my pocket, and I said to myself: "Shall an
Alsacian, an old Alsacian, endure this affront without revenge? Shall
it be said that Alsacians allow themselves to be knocked about by such
spawn as these fellows, whom we have thrashed a hundred times in days
gone by, and who used to run away from us like hares?"
George, who could see by my countenance what I was thinking of, said:
"Christian! Listen to me. Don't get angry. Set down these blows to
the account of the Plebiscite, like the bonds for bread, flour, hay,
meat, and the rest. It was you who voted all that: the Germans are not
the causes! They are brute beasts, so used to have their faces
slapped, that they catch every opportunity to give others the like,
when there is no danger, and when they are ten to one. These slaps
don't produce the same effect on them as on us; they are felt only on
the surface, no farther! So comfort yourself; this monstrous beast
never thought he was inflicting any disgrace upon you: he took you for
one of his own sort."
But, instead of pacifying me, George only made me the more indignant;
especially when he told me that the Germans, talking together, had told
how Queen Augusta of Prussia had just sent her own cook to the Emperor
Napoleon to cook nice little dishes for him, and her own band to play
agreeable music under his balcony!
I had had enough! I lay under our cart, and all that night I had none
but bad dreams.
We had always hoped that, on coming near a railway, the remains of the
battalion would get in, and that we should be sent home; unhappily our
men were intended to fill up gaps in other battalions: companies were
detached right and left, but there were always enough left to want our
conveyances, and to prevent us from setting off home.
We had not had clean shirts for a fortnight; we had not once taken off
our shoes, knowing that we should have too much difficulty in getting
them on again; we had been wetted through with rain and dried by the
sun five and twenty times; we had suffered all the misery and
wretchedness of hunger, we were reduced to scarecrows by weariness and
suffering; but neither cousin nor I suffered from dysentery like those
Germans; the poorest nourishment still sustained us; but the bacon, the
fresh meat, the fruits, the raw vegetables, devoured by these creatures
without the least discretion, worked upon them dreadfully: no
experience could teach them wisdom; their natural voracity made them
devoid of all prudence.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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