The Discovered Diary of Lucien Cinq-Mars

The following are a series of journal entries salvaged from an old diary, found in the attic of a home on the west side of Amiens, France. It was donated to our museum by Arthur George Williams, believed to be the great great grandson of the author. Though originally written in French it has since been translated to English by Robert Charles Helloc.

June 3rd, 1913

My name is Lucien Cinq-Mars, I am thirty-two years old, thirty-three come December. I love my wife Madeline and my three children Louis, Ambroise, and Louise. I help work our farm “Champs pleins de vie”, which has been in our family for ninety years, alongside my father Joseph, younger brother Antoine, and brother-in-law Paul. I have received this diary from my niece Marie, after showing interest in her writings. It is something many of her schoolmates are doing now. I would’ve liked the chance to go to school when I was a kid, but the first one in our city, Amiens, wasn’t built until twenty one years ago; by then I was almost too old to attend. However my family has quite benefited from it, my niece is set to complete her education at thirteen. My son Louis, and my nephew Germaine began school together at age six, three years ago. Come to think of it, my two younger siblings attended school, though Antoine was seven when he began, Julie was young enough to get a full education. It served her well as she was able to entice into marriage a man whom, despite his arrogance or because of it, was quite well off. My older sister Rosalie, like me, was given an education by our parents, which has served me quite well. In fact, our city has become quite developed over the years, automobiles now litter the streets; one must be sure to avoid them or risk injury. I also personally know someone who owns a telephone, a restaurateur who buys fresh ingredients from our farm often. The railroads as well have never been busier, I quite hope to one day ride the rails all the way to Nice. Orders from our customers have also been quite numerous, the most we’ve seen in years thanks to hope in president Raymond Poincare. I fully trust he will bring our beautiful nation out of the pits and back to the rightful German Border on the Other side of Alsace and Lorraine.

August 16th, 1914

I suppose this is my third entry. I have finally found my diary again after having been misplaced for many months. I had written a few entries on some loose sheets of paper but seem to have misplaced them so I will attempt to recall the details here. Many exciting things have happened, I read in the paper about the “Exposition internationale urbaine de Lyon”. So many wondrous inventions were described, I also saw a picture of our president shaking the hand of some lucky man at the event. I had dreamed for a brief moment of riding the train to Lyon to meet him but it would’ve taken hours and been quite expensive, as such Madeline would not let me. The 12th Tour de France was held last month. I'm not too sour that a Belgian won, but I was really hoping for Lucien Petit-Breton to win. Not only do we share a first name but dashing good looks, I got to see him race in person once before in fact. Our farm is doing quite well this year, it was particularly rainy so many farms had a delayed yield, but the corn and tomatoes we planted were an absolute success; we sold the yield as fast as we could pick it. In fact a not insignificant portion of our yield was purchased by our own government in preparation for the war. It would seem Germany has grown far too pompous and declared war on both us and the Russians on their other border. I don’t particularly care for the Russians but between our two armies, Germany will be squashed like a grape. I am now voraciously watching the newspapers for the moment we retake Alsace and Lorraine, the Germans do not know what is in store for them.

December 24th 1914

I certainly have more pressing matters to handle then chronicling our trials. I feel guilty for taking time for something as frivolous as writing, but in truth there is not much more I can do in such a situation. Perhaps it is selfish of me, to do something that takes my mind off of the tragedy while so many others, my family included, are suffering. Yet here I am. Things have not been going well for us or for our country as of late. We remained resolute on our farm, entrusting our safety to our military for as long as we could. However on August 24th with the Germans rapidly approaching, we were forced to leave our home behind. We took what we, the Fourteen of us, and our two mules could carry. Unfortunately we could not take with us what was most precious. We only made it a few days in the direction of Paris before my elder sister Rosalie, was unable to continue on due to her polio. Her husband stayed with her, they said they would make their way to Paris after us. Despite their children's protests and cries, we agreed to take them with us. We finally arrived in Paris, but we were quickly running out of food. We found a nice family that allowed us to stay in their barn but it was short lived as many began fleeing Paris due to fear of a German advance. We decided to flee too, the trains were far too crowded and getting twelve tickets would've been impossible, so we traveled on foot. Unfortunately my baby girl Louise and my niece Anne did not make the journey, sleeping on the ground, and having nothing to eat, proved far too taxing for their small bodies to handle. We wanted to head for the city of Rouen but heard word that the Germans were already there. Uncertain of where to go, my wife Madeline suggested we attempt to stay with my younger sister Julie in Bordeaux nearly six hundred kilometers away. It is a risky undertaking but I cannot see a better way, may God defend Paris that our country not be in disgrace, but if it falls, the nearby cities will be flooded with those trying to escape. Our only option is to travel far from the borders of the war, Madeline is correct as usual, she is a beautiful and soft spoken woman, but I’ve learned to listen when she speaks.

March 17th 1915

I once again find myself unable to do much more than write. While my brother and I have have been looking for work, there is little to be done. Surely we have by now visited every business and home in the city and though there is certainly work to be done, there are far too many to do it and too few resources to share. Our travel had been especially slow, had it only been my wife, our kids, and I, we likely would’ve made it Bordeaux a month ago. Though now, it is with a deep sorrow in my heart I write that both of my parents passed away from the stress of the journey. They hadn’t even made it to Tours, where we had spent a few days begging for food. Though due to the conscription of all fighting age men in the city, Antoine had managed to find a temporary position working as a logger. My Nephew Germaine had received quite a grave injury during our travels but luckily with all the doctors passing through the city we were able to find one kind enough to treat his wound. Without my parents we were able to travel much faster, though it did us little good, as with only eight of us remaining we arrived at my younger sister's estate only to be turned away. Her husband said he could not house a whole circus, we have been living on the streets of the great city since then. I fear which of my beloved kin will be the next to perish. My brother Antoine and I have been attempting to find work while our sons, we only recently discovered, are risking their lives stealing food. I fear what will come if they are caught.

December 21st, 1915

Though I have had to use up many of these pages for note keeping, I suppose this will be my ninth entry. One does not have much time to write down their thoughts when they are concerned only with survival. We have been quite fortunate to prevent the loss of any more of our family. Living on the streets has been quite tough and we are not proud of the things we have done to survive. Our family however is stronger because of it. Without my wife Madeline, I don’t know what we would have done. She really stepped up to care for the children while my brother Antoine and I worked for a local munitions factory. Unfortunately Antoine being six years younger than me and closer to fighting age was conscripted into the military and sent to the front lines. We have yet to receive a letter from him but are holding out hope. Despite the protests of her husband Jean-Pierre, my younger sister Julie has been keeping in contact with me and learned of our dire situation. She became fed up and threatened to leave him if he did not bring us inside from the cold. Eventually he relented and it now looks like we may be able to spend Christmas together indoors. This small respite has afforded me the opportunity to catch up on politics if only for the moment. Though it seems the whole world is at war, we have held strong against the Germans. It may be many years before we can return to our farm, but I take solace in the fact that the Germans are not enjoying occupation of my home.

March 11th, 1919

Entry #19

Though I have not had much time of late to write entries, I had not realized just how many of my thoughts I had been able to put to paper while at the home of my lovely sister Julie. Despite her husband's resistance, she made sure we were quite accommodated. It has been four months since the war’s end, despite everyone’s relief there is now so much work to be done. In January we set out by train to return to our home in Amiens. Julie, fed up with her husband, volunteered to accompany us to our farm to help us rebuild. Amiens had both grown and shrunk in the four and a half years since we left. There were new railroads, structures, trenches, and bulwarks in and around the city, and military signage littered the walls of business and homes. However much of the city had also been destroyed, my son's school was gone and our local hospital had been converted for military use. Places where entire buildings had been reduced to rubble, changed the whole landscape of the city. Our barn had been destroyed and much of the surrounding area had also been damaged by bombardment and fire. Despite this, our home was still intact, and though we no longer had animals or seed, we were lucky having less to rebuild than others. We realized we had not had time to offer our loved ones a proper funeral. My brother Antoine, though alive, had yet to return from the war. With our local parish destroyed by the Germans, my wife Madeline, our two sons Louise and Ambroise, my niece Marie, my Nephews Germaine and Jean, and my sister Julie, organized a funeral. I dug graves and laid in each, a beloved possession of our loved one. Though our home had been heavily looted, we were able to find my father's hat, my mothers scarf, one of Rosalie’s favorite books, her husband Paul’s shoes, my niece Anne’s dress, and my baby girl Louise’s Rattle. We held a burial mass to the best of our ability, said our prayers, and counted our blessings, having survived the world's most brutal war.