THE STRUGGLE ROUND RHEIMS
It will have been gathered from the preceding pages that the tactics
adopted by the Germans north of the Aisne were tactics designed to wear
down the British force. No troops, it was supposed, could, even if they
survived, withstand such an experience as that of the eight days from
September 20 to September 28. Their lines pounded during all the hours
of daylight by heavy shells, and assaulted during the hours of darkness
by masses of infantry, the British force ought, upon every German
hypothesis of modern warfare, to have been either driven back, or broken
to pieces. The theory had proved unsound. To say nothing of the enormous
monetary cost of the ammunition used, the attacks had turned out
appallingly wasteful of life. The best troops of the Prussian army had
been engulfed. In this savage struggle, between 13,000 and 14,000
British soldiers had been killed or wounded. What the losses were on the
side of the Germans we do not know, for their casualties in any
particular operations have not been disclosed.
If, however, their losses were on anything like the same scale as those
at Mons and at Cambrai, the casualties must have been severe in the
extreme. That they were severe is certain. The tactics adopted on the
Aisne were not yet substantially different from the tactics followed in
the earlier battles. At this stage of the campaign, the Germans still
held to the principle that for victory hardly any price was too high.
Remembering at the same time that neither lives nor money are sacrificed
by Germany without what is considered good cause, it becomes necessary
when there are heavy sacrifices to search for the most adequate and
assignable reason. In this instance, the search need not go far. After
the first week of the battle, the enemy were not merely defending their
stronghold, they were attempting to carry out an offensive, and that
offensive had two objects. One was the scheme of operations against the
left of the Allied line. The other was the recapture of Rheims.
Consider how a defeat of the British force must have affected the
situation. On the one hand, it would have enabled the Germans to push
back the 6th French army upon Paris; on the other, it would have
compelled the French to evacuate Rheims.
Now Rheims was clearly at this time the key of the Allied position. The
roads and railways converging upon the city made it an advanced base of
the first importance. Driven out of Rheims, the Allies would have found
their communications between Noyon and Verdun hopelessly confused.
Neither reinforcements, nor munitions, nor supplies could have been
brought up save by difficult and circuitous routes. A general retreat
must have become imperative, and all the advantages arising from the
recent victory on the Marne have been lost.
Why, then, it may be asked, did the Germans not keep Rheims when they
had it? To that question there is but one answer. The Germans evacuated
Rheims because they had no choice. Possession of Rheims means command of
all the country between the Aisne and the Marne, because that possession
also means command of the communications. From Roman times the military
importance of the city has been recognised. Eight great roads converge
into it from as many points of the compass. These are military roads,
made originally by the Romans, and mostly straight as arrows. They are
now supplemented, but in time of war not superseded, by the railways.
The occupation of Rheims by the Germans, and their forced evacuation of
the place twelve days later, are two of the most notable episodes of the
campaign. If there was one position where it might have been expected
the French would make a stand between Belgium and Paris, it was
assuredly here. The Germans looked for that opposition. The city was
plainly too valuable a prize, and too important a military possession
to be yielded without a struggle. Yet when the invaders came within
sight of it, there were no signs of resistance. As they debouched from
the highlands the splendid picture which spread before their eyes to the
south-west was touched with a strange peace. Framed in its theatre of
wooded hills, and dominated by the twin towers of its peerless
cathedral, the lordly city, a seat of civilisation and the arts when
ancient Germany was still a wilderness, seemed far removed from the
scene of war. No cannon boomed from any of its surrounding forts; no
trenches were anywhere visible; no troops could be seen along the
distant roads. German officers swept the landscape with their field
glasses. They found a military blank. Naturally, they suspected a ruse.
Volunteers were called for, and a band of eighteen valiants enrolled
themselves. The eighteen rode into the city. They were not molested. At
the same time, another band crept cautiously up to the nearest of the
outlying forts. They entered it without challenge. It was empty. Both
bands came back to headquarters with the same surprising report. The
French troops had fled to the last man. What better proof could there be
of total demoralisation?
Now, there was a ruse, and if anything could illustrate the combined
boldness and depth of the French strategy it was this. Let us see what
the ruse was. To begin with, Rheims was supposed to be a fortress, but
the forts, situated on the surrounding hills, and constructed after the
war of 1870-71, were mere earthworks. They were not adapted to withstand
modern artillery. It was part of the French plan that they should not be
adapted. On the contrary, just before the German advance, the forts had
been dismantled and abandoned. That measure had been postponed to the
last moment, and though the invaders had their spies at Rheims, as
elsewhere, they remained unaware of it.
Clearly the effect of the abandonment was a belief that the French were
already, to all intents, beaten. In the Berlin papers there appeared
glowing accounts of the triumph. Conversely, at all events in England
among those who did not know, the French evacuation came as a shock.
This was all part of the foreseen result. It not only heightened the
confidence of the German armies, but it had no small influence on that
fatal change of plan on their part which we may now say was decided upon
at this very time. General Joffre purposely misled the enemy, both as to
the power at his command, and as to his disposition of that power.
Thus it was that the Germans, unopposed, made their triumphal entry.
They swept through the famous Gate of Mars, the triumphal arch built by
the then townsmen of Rheims in honour of Julius Cæsar and Augustus and
to mark the completion of the scheme of military roads by Agrippa. They
parked their cannon along the noble Public Promenade which stretches
beyond this great monument. In the square before the Cathedral, about
which at that time German war correspondents went into ecstasies of
admiration, the statue of Joan of Arc was ringed by stacks of German
lances. Ranks of men in _pickelhauben_, headed by bands playing
"Deutschland über Alles," were in movement along the great Boulevard
Victor Hugo. The very name now seemed a mockery. Rheims appeared
helpless. Taking possession of the town hall, the invaders seized the
Mayor, Dr. Langlet, and compelled him to remain up all through the
succeeding night issuing the orders which they dictated at the muzzle of
a revolver.[29] Nearly one hundred of the leading citizens found
themselves placed under arrest as hostages. This was alleged to be a
guarantee for the preservation of order. As a fact, it was intended to
assist collection, both of the heavy "fine" imposed on the city, and of
the extortionate requisitions demanded in kind. With the stocks of
champagne contained in the labyrinth of vast cellars hollowed out
beneath Rheims in the chalk rock, the German officers made themselves
unrestrainedly free. The occupation degenerated into an orgie. Much wine
that could not be consumed was, on the advance being resumed, taken to
the front, loaded on ambulance wagons.[30] It is alleged that nearly
2,000,000 bottles of wine were either consumed, plundered, or wasted.
Every house, too, had its complement of soldiers billeted on the
occupants. When they marched south to the Marne, the Germans had been
refreshed with unwonted good cheer and by rest in comfortable beds.
But three days later there began to come in, both by road and by
railway, convoys of wounded, and these swelled in number day by day,
until every hotel and many houses had been filled with human wrecks of
battle. The Cathedral, its floor strewn with straw, was turned into a
great hospital. All this, however, was but a presage. Rarely has there
been in so brief a time a contrast more startling than that between the
outward march of the German troops and their return.
Just ten days had gone by when Rheims witnessed the influx of haggard,
hungry, and dog-tired men; many bare-headed or bootless; not a few
wearing uniforms which were in rags; numbers injured. The bands had
ceased to play. Instead of the steady march and the imperious word of
command, there was the tramp of a sullen, beaten, and battered army; a
tramp mingled with shouts and curses of exasperation; and the rumble of
guns dragged by exhausted horses, mercilessly lashed in order to get the
last ounce of pace out of them. All day, on September 12, the tide of
defeat rolled into Rheims from the south, and surged out of it by the
north; but above the clash and confusion was borne the boom of cannon,
growing steadily louder and nearer.
Knowing that the population of Rheims had been driven to exasperation,
the Germans feared they might be entrapped in the city by street
fighting. An evidence of their panic is found in the proclamation which,
on the morning of September 12, they compelled the Mayor to issue. The
document speaks for itself. It ran:--
In the event of an action being fought either to-day or in the
immediate future in the neighbourhood of Rheims, or in the city
itself, the inhabitants are warned that they must remain absolutely
calm and must in no way try to take part in the fighting. They must
not attempt to attack either isolated soldiers or detachments of
the German army. The erection of barricades, the taking up of
paving stones in the streets in a way to hinder the movements of
troops, or, in a word, any action that may embarrass the German
army, is formally forbidden.
With a view to securing adequately the safety of the troops and to
instil calm into the population of Rheims, the persons named below
have been seized as hostages by the Commander-in-Chief of the
German Army. These hostages will be hanged at the slightest attempt
at disorder. Also, the city will be totally or partly burnt and
the inhabitants will be hanged for any infraction of the above.
By order of the German Authorities.
THE MAYOR (Dr. Langlet).
Rheims, Sept. 12, 1914.
Then followed the names of 81 of the principal inhabitants, with their
addresses, including four priests, the list ending with the words, "and
some others."
There was good reason for this German panic. These troops of the army of
von Bülow had been completely defeated. Of that no better evidence can
be offered than a letter found on a soldier of the 74th German Regiment
of infantry, part of the 10th army corps. The letter is of vivid human
interest.
MY DEAR WIFE,--I have just been living through days that defy
imagination. I should never have thought that men could stand it.
Not a second has passed but my life has been in danger, and yet not
a hair of my head has been hurt. It was horrible, it was ghastly.
But I have been saved for you and for our happiness, and I take
heart again, although I am still terribly unnerved. God grant that
I may see you again soon, and that this horror may soon be over.
None of us can do any more; human strength is at an end.
I will try to tell you about it.
On Sept. 5 the enemy were reported to be taking up a position near
St. Prix (north-east of Paris). The 10th corps, which had made an
astonishingly rapid advance, of course attacked on the Sunday.
Steep slopes led up to heights which were held in considerable
force. With our weak detachments of the 74th and 91st Regiments we
reached the crest and came under a terrible artillery fire that
mowed us down. However, we entered St. Prix. Hardly had we done so
than we were met with shell fire and a violent fusillade from the
enemy's infantry. Our colonel was badly wounded--he is the third we
have had. Fourteen men were killed round me.... We got away in a
lull without being hit.
The 7th, 8th, and 9th of Sept, we were constantly under shell and
shrapnel fire, and suffered terrible losses. I was in a house which
was hit several times. The fear of a death of agony which is in
every man's heart, and naturally so, is a terrible feeling.
How often I thought of you, my darling, and what I suffered in that
terrifying battle, which extended along a front of many miles near
Montmirail, you cannot possibly imagine. Our heavy artillery was
being used for the siege of Maubeuge; we wanted it badly, as the
enemy had theirs in force, and kept up a furious bombardment. For
four days I was under artillery fire; it is like hell, but a
thousand times worse.
On the night of the 9th the order was given to retreat, as it would
have been madness to attempt to hold our position with our few men,
and we should have risked a terrible defeat the next day. The first
and third armies had not been able to attack with us, as we had
advanced too rapidly. Our _moral_ was absolutely broken.
In spite of unheard-of sacrifices we had achieved nothing. I cannot
understand how our army, after fighting three great battles and
being terribly weakened, was sent against a position which the
enemy had prepared for three weeks, but naturally I know nothing
of the intentions of our chiefs.... They say nothing has been lost.
In a word, we retired towards Cormontreuil and Rheims by forced
marches by day and night.
We hear that three armies are going to get into line, entrench,
rest, and then start afresh our victorious march on Paris. It was
not a defeat, but only a strategic retreat. I have confidence in
our chiefs that everything will be successful. Our first battalion,
which has fought with unparalleled bravery, is reduced from 1,200
to 194 men. These numbers speak for themselves....
If the defeat had been complete, the pursuit had been relentless. The
5th French army had excelled itself. It comprised the Algerian army
corps, and had been reinforced by the Moroccan and Senegalese regiments.
Not only along the main roads, but along all the by-roads, and in and
among the vineyards and woods, there had been ceaseless fighting. If one
side is reflected by the letter of the dead German soldier, that
revelation is completed by the Order issued to his troops by General
Desperey when they had broken the enemy at Montmirail on September 9.
Soldiers,--Upon the memorable fields of Montmirail, of Vauchamps,
and of Champaubert, which a century ago witnessed the victories of
our ancestors over Blücher's Prussians, your vigorous offensive has
triumphed over the resistance of the Germans.
Held on his flanks, his centre broken, the enemy is now retreating
towards east and north by forced marches. The most renowned army
corps of Old Prussia, the contingents of Westphalia, of Hanover, of
Brandenburg, have retired in haste before you.
This first success is no more than a prelude. The enemy is shaken,
but not yet decisively beaten.
You have still to undergo severe hardships, to make long marches,
to fight hard battles.
May the image of our country, soiled by barbarians, always remain
before your eyes. Never was it more necessary to sacrifice all for
her.
Saluting the heroes who have fallen in the fighting of the last few
days, my thoughts turn towards you--the victors in the next battle.
Forward, soldiers, for France!
Forward for France they had gone. Thus it was that, shut in their houses
throughout the night of September 12, the people of Rheims heard above
the uproar of the German retreat the always swelling thunder of the
French guns. When morning broke the only German military still left in
Rheims were the abandoned wounded, and the main streets echoed to the
welcome tread of the war-worn but triumphant defenders of the
fatherland.
Through the transverse gap from Rheims to Berry-au-Bac on the Aisne
there is one of those wonderful old Roman roads, now a great modern
highway. The road runs nearly straight as a ruler north-west to Laon.
The first step taken by General Desperey was to secure this road, as
well as the railway which on the western side of the gap winds curiously
in and out along the foot of the hills. From Berry-au-Bac north of the
Aisne the French lent most material aid to the British attack upon
Craonne. South-east of Rheims they were occupied in securing the railway
to Chalons, which for some twenty miles runs through the valley of the
Vesle. Above Rheims this valley, in character not unlike the valley of
the Aisne, but wilder, may be compared to a great crack in the plateau
of the highlands. On each side are chalk cliffs, and side valleys of
gravel soil covered with woods. Between the cliffs the river winds
through flat meadows. Towards Rheims the valley opens out into that
theatre of wooded hills in the midst of which the city is situated.
The operations of this part of the great battle resolved themselves
partly into a struggle for the transverse gap; next into a gigantic
combat waged from opposite sides of the theatre of hills; and lastly,
into a fight for command of the upper valley of the Vesle.
Sheltered among the caves and quarries on the north-east side of the gap
and of the theatre of hills, the Germans had contrived a scheme of
defence works not less elaborate than those along the ridge north of the
Aisne, and these defence works extended round the theatre of hills to
the outlet from the narrow part of the Vesle valley, blockading both the
main military road from Rheims to Chalons, and also the railway.
At the outset their reduced strength limited them to merely defensive
tactics, and, as on the north of the Aisne, they steadily, and day by
day, lost ground. But they then began steadily and day by day to receive
reinforcements, both of men and of heavy artillery. The reinforcements
of men included a reconstitution of the Prussian Guard drawn from its
reserves at Berlin.
Before the end of September an immense body of additional troops had
arrived at this part of the front. On the side of the French, also,
strong reserves were hurried forward.
It will assist to understand the description of the operations to state
first their plan and purpose both on the one side and the other, since
this formed strategically the critical section of the battle.
At Condé-sur-Aisne, it will be recalled, the Germans held a position
right on the river, and that position formed a wedge or salient jutting
into the British lines east and west of it.
The fact is recalled here because it illustrates what in this campaign
has proved a well-marked feature of German strategy. It has been proved,
that is to say, that whenever the Germans found it necessary to resist
very heavy pressure they seized some point capable of obstinate defence,
and, even if pushed back to right and left, kept their grip as long as
possible, using the position as a general hold-up along that section of
the front.
Thus their grip on Condé and the Chivres bluff was essential to their
retention of the Aisne ridge.
They had a similar position at Prunay on the railway between Rheims and
Chalons. The village of Prunay is at the point where the theatre of
hills narrows into the upper valley of the Vesle. The position jutted
out like an angle from the German line, and it commanded the valley.
Figuratively taking these positions of Condé-sur-Aisne on the one side
and Prunay on the other, we may imagine the German army like a man
clinging to a couple of posts or railings and so defying the effort to
move him.
That is the aspect of the matter so far as defensive tactics go. For
offensive tactics grip on such positions is obviously a great aid to
pressure on a hostile line lying between them. A military salient serves
exactly the same purpose as a wedge. It is a device for splitting the
opposition. Here, then, were two wedges in the Allied front, and the
object was manifestly to break off the part of the front intervening. On
that part of the front with Rheims as its main advanced base the Allied
line, all the way round from beyond Noyon to Verdun, structurally
depended.
Such was the German scheme. But the Allies on their part had a wedge or
salient driven into the German front at Craonne, and as they were there
two-thirds of the way along the road from Rheims to Laon, the main
advanced base and communication centre of the German line, that salient
was extremely awkward. They were intent, on their part, in hammering in
their wedge, because it meant a collapse of the whole German right
flank from the Aisne ridge to the Belgian frontier.
It is not difficult, therefore, to understand the fury of the resulting
struggle. The best troops on both sides were engaged. In point of
magnitude the fighting round Rheims was hardly less than the fighting
which occurred later round Ypres.
The struggle in its acute phase lasted for fifteen days and nights
without the slightest pause or intermission. In the tracks of the German
retreat from the Marne great gaps among the vineyards, where rose mounds
of earth, marked the common graves of the slain. Along the boundaries of
woods appeared the blackened sites of the hecatombs. Nevertheless, many
of the fallen still lay in the woods or among the vines, unburied and
infecting the air. Through this country and these scenes marched the
reinforcements of the 5th French army. In the opposite direction flowed
a ceaseless stream of civilian fugitives--poor people carrying their few
personal belongings strapped on their backs, or pushing them along in
wheelbarrows; women carrying children in their arms, and with other
children trailing at their skirts; a procession on foot and in vehicles
of every sort.
Against Rheims the Germans employed much of the artillery and material
and apparatus they had intended for the siege of Paris. On the eastern
side of the theatre of hills behind the advanced island mass where stand
the villages of Berru and Nogent l'Abbesse, they had mounted their huge
mortars. From these positions and from others to the north-east they
threw into Rheims an incessant crash of monster shells. Viewed from any
of the villages of its circumference, this theatre of hills ten miles
across presented during these days a spectacle at once grandiose and
awful. The battle spread out round and below like a panorama of fire.
Out of advanced positions among the woods on the south-west, across by
Rheims, and to the north, hundreds of the French field guns searched the
German positions with their terrible high explosive shells. At brief
regular intervals amid the angry roar arose a deep resounding boom--the
note of the enemy's great howitzers. The earth shook beneath the
salvoes, for the French had also massed here their heaviest artillery.
Amid the flash of bursting shells appeared here a village, there a mill
a mass of flames, with the smoke drifting above it in a dense cloud. The
roar was that of hurricane and earthquake rolled into one. And the
uproar went on without ceasing through all the hours of daylight, and
far into the night.
Furious and destructive as it was, however, the artillery duel was not
the deadliest part. The great slaughter occurred when the armies came to
grips. The Germans launched an attack upon Rheims from the north and an
attack at the same time from the south-east. Of the first attack the
immediate objective was the suburb of La Neuvillette. That place is on
the great road from Rheims to Berry-au-Bac, and if it could be seized
the French positions along the transverse gap would be endangered, and
their position at Craonne made untenable. The immediate objective of the
second attack was the fort of La Pompelle, commanding the great road to
Chalons. To the French both communications were vital.
In the attack upon La Neuvillette the troops employed were the re-formed
Prussian Guard. Over 40,000 strong, men for the most part in the prime
of life, and men who, though reservists, had received the highest
military training, they formed probably as formidable a body of troops
as any in Europe. Against them were pitted the finest of French regular
infantry, including a division 20,000 strong of the Zouaves. Both sides
fought with the fury of mutual hate. It was a contest in which race
passion had been stirred to its depths. The Guard advanced south along
the great road from Neuchatel; descended into the transverse gap; and
crossed the Aisne and Marne canal at Loivre. They braved the deadly hail
of the French 75-millimetre guns, than which there is nothing more
deadly; they fought through the gap against charges of the Zouaves in
which there was no quarter; they reached St. Thierry; they reached,
after fourteen hours' continuous fighting, La Neuvillette itself--that
is to say, a remnant reached it. It was a splendid feat of courage; for
more than half the force had fallen. At Neuvillette, however, they were
overpowered. The French troops who held that place could not be
dislodged. The scenes in the streets were terrible. Meanwhile, the
French had shattered the succeeding and supporting German columns, and
had closed in on the rear. The Guards, finding themselves entrapped, had
to cut their way out. How many again reached the German lines we do not
know. It must have been very few.
At Fort La Pompelle the garrison heroically held out against a vastly
superior force. The fort was stormed. Then it was retaken by the French.
The order to the officer commanding was, "Fight to the last man." He
fought. When the position became desperate he appealed for
reinforcements. As he was sending off the message he was killed by a
shell. The command devolved upon a sergeant. Relief came while the
survivors of the garrison were still resisting.
To throw the relief into La Pompelle it was necessary to attack the
tiers of trenches cut by the Germans along the hills as far as Prunay.
The French had to cross the Aisne and Oise canal, which after passing
through Rheims is joined up with the Vesle. This, in face of the German
infantry fire and in face of well-concealed batteries of guns, was a
desperate business. It was done not only through the dauntless courage
of the French foot, but by the terrible effect of their artillery. The
Germans, notwithstanding, advanced from their trenches to dispute the
passage. There was a hand-to-hand battle in the canal itself--a battle
to the death. The French won over; they carried the first line of German
trenches; supports, regiment after regiment, were thrown across; they
carried the second line; then the third; at each it was bayonet work,
thrust and parry.
But the Germans still clung to Prunay. That place was the real centre of
this part of the struggle. The village lies between the Rheims-Chalons
railway line and the Vesle. Out of the place the enemy had to be
cleared, cost what it might. It was one of those episodes in which an
army puts forth its whole strength of nerve. From the wooded heights
above the valley a massing of German batteries sought to wither the
attack. A massing of French batteries on the nearer side strove to put
the German guns out of action. The duel was gigantic. Reports of the
guns became no longer distinguishable. They were merged into what seemed
one continued solid and unbroken explosion. The French infantry advanced
to the assault. Their losses were heavy. Prunay was set alight by
shells. Still the attack was pressed. Then the ring of fire round the
distant woods which marked the line of German batteries became ragged,
and died down. The French guns had proved their superiority. At the
point of the bayonet the Germans were driven out of Prunay and across
the railway. Here they made a last stand. It was in vain. French gunners
were now racing their pieces forward and opening in new positions;
German batteries, on the other hand, were seen limbering up and in
flight. At last, as night fell, the Germans broke in rout along the road
to Beine. Prunay they had lost for good.
These were leading but only typical episodes of those fifteen days. The
fighting went on, too, through the night. As daylight faded, masses of
Algerian and Moroccan troops, held in reserve, crept forward, and
gathered stealthily in chalk-pits or among the woods. They moved with an
almost catlike tread. In these secret rendezvous they waited until the
dead of night. Then in file after file, thousands of them, they stole
up, invisible, to the German trenches; and in the first faint shimmer of
dawn launched themselves with a savage yell upon the foe. There was
terrible work among those hills.
Do these episodes throw no light on the damage done to Rheims Cathedral?
Here round Rheims and north of the Aisne had been the mightiest effort
the German armies had yet made. Here was concentrated the full force of
their most disciplined and most valiant troops. Those troops had been
sacrificed and with no result. Many storms of war had passed by the
cathedral at Rheims since it was completed in 1231, and from the time
when nearly a hundred more years of patient labour had put the last
touches on its marvellous sculptures, and it had stood forth a thing of
wonder and of beauty, no hand of violence had been laid on its
consecrated stones. At the news that Prussian cannon had been turned
upon it to destroy it, and had reduced it to a burned-out skeleton, from
which Prussian wounded had to be carried out lest they should be roasted
alive, the whole civilised world gasped.
Mr. E. Ashmead-Bartlett, who visited the cathedral while the
bombardment was going on, sent to the _Daily Telegraph_ a remarkable
account of his experiences.
"Round the cathedral," he wrote, "hardly a house had escaped damage, and
even before we reached the open square in which it stands it became
evident that the Germans had concentrated their fire on the building.
The pavement of the square had been torn up by the bursting of these
6-in. shells and was covered with fragments of steel, cracked masonry,
glass, and loose stones. In front of the façade of the cathedral stands
the well-known statue of Jeanne d'Arc. Someone had placed a Tricolour in
her outstretched arm. The great shells had burst all round her, leaving
the Maid of Orleans and her flag unscathed, but her horse's belly and
legs were chipped and seared with fragments of flying steel.
"At the first view the exterior of the cathedral did not appear to have
suffered much damage, although the masonry was chipped and scarred white
by countless shrapnel bullets or pieces of steel, and many of the carved
figures and gargoyles on the western façade were broken and chipped.
"We found no one in the square; in fact, this part of the town appeared
to be deserted, but as we approached the main entrance to try to obtain
admittance a curious sight met our eyes. We saw the recumbent figure of
a man lying against the door. He had long since lost both his legs,
which had been replaced by wooden stumps. He lay covered with dust,
small stones, and broken glass, which had been thrown over him by
bursting shells, but by some chance his remaining limbs had escaped all
injury. This old veteran of the war of 1870, as he described himself,
has accosted all and sundry at the gate of the cathedral for generations
past, and even in the midst of the bombardment he had crawled once more
to his accustomed post. As we knocked on the great wooden door, from
this shapeless and filthy wreck of what had once been a man there came
the feeble cry: '_Monsieur, un petit sou. Monsieur, un petit sou._'
"Our knock was answered by a priest, who, on seeing that we were
English, at once allowed us to enter. The father then told us, in
language that was not altogether priestly, when speaking of the vandals
whose guns were still thundering outside, of how the Germans had
bombarded the cathedral for two hours that morning, landing over fifty
shells in its immediate neighbourhood, but, luckily, the range being
very great, over eight kilometres, the solid stonework of the building
had resisted the successive shocks of these six-inch howitzers, and how
it was that ancient and priceless glass which had suffered the most.[31]
"'Monsieur, they respect nothing. We placed 125 of them inside and
hoisted the red cross on the spire in order to protect the cathedral,
and yet they fire at it all the same, and have killed their own
soldiers. Pray, monsieur, make these facts known all over Europe and
America.'
"With these words he unlocked a wicket and conducted us toward the
altar, close to which stands a small painted statue of Jeanne d'Arc. The
east end of Notre Dame had up to this period suffered but little, and
although some of the windows were damaged they were not lost beyond
repair. The light still shone through in rays of dark blue and red,
broken here and there by streaks of pure light.
"Then our guide conducted us to the great cold stone body of the
cathedral, where the Gothic pillars rise in sombre majesty, relieved by
no ornamentation[32] until they hold aloft the blue masterpieces of the
unknown artist. Here one of the strangest of spectacles met the eye. The
whole of this vast vault was covered with dust half an inch thick, with
chipped-off masonry, pieces of lead piping from the shattered windows,
and with countless fragments of varied coloured glass. In the centre lay
an ancient candelabrum which had hung for centuries from the roof
suspended by a steel chain. That morning a fragment of shell had cut the
chain in half and dropped its ancient burden to the hard stone floor
beneath, where it lay bent and crumpled.
"A great wave of sunshine lit up a sombre picture of carnage and
suffering at the western end near the main entrance. Here on piles of
straw lay the wounded Germans in all stages of suffering--their round
shaven heads, thin cheeks, and bluish-grey uniforms contrasting
strangely with the sombre black of the silent priests attending them,
while in the background the red trousers of the French soldiers were
just visible on the steps outside. Most of the wounded had dragged their
straw behind the great Gothic pillars as if seeking shelter from their
own shells. The priest conducted us to one of the aisles beneath the
window where the shell had entered that morning. A great pool of blood
lay there, staining the column just as the blood of Thomas à Becket must
have stained the altar of Canterbury seven centuries before.
"'That, Monsieur, is the blood of the French gendarme who was killed at
eleven this morning, but he did not go alone.' The priest pointed to two
more recumbent figures clad in the bluish-grey of the Kaiser's legions.
There they lay stiff and cold as the effigies around them. All three had
perished by the same shell. Civilian doctors of Rheims moved amongst the
wounded, who for the most part maintained an attitude of stoical
indifference to everything around them. We moved around collecting
fragments of the precious glass which the Kaiser had so unexpectedly
thrown within our reach. We were brought back to realities by hearing
the unmistakable whistle of an approaching shell, followed by a
deafening explosion, and more fragments of glass came tumbling from
aloft. The weary war-worn Teutons instinctively huddled closer to the
Gothic arches. A dying officer, his eyes already fixed in a glassy stare
on the sunlight above, gave an involuntary groan. We heard outside the
crash of falling masonry. The shell was followed by another, and more
breaking glass. Our chauffeur came hastening in with the Virgin's broken
arm in his hands. A fragment of shell had broken it off outside. We
lingered long gazing at this strange scene.
"Outside the guns were thundering all round Rheims."
It was after this that the cathedral was set on fire by the shells.
FOOTNOTES:
[29] This incident was narrated by the special correspondent of the
_Berliner Tageblatt_.
[30] Letters from the front published in the Berlin newspapers leave no
doubt on this point. One such account described how a French shell in
the Battle of the Marne wrecked an ambulance wagon loaded with bottles
of wine--an instance of French contempt for civilised warfare!
In 1870-71 the Germans impoverished Rheims by heavy requisitions.
[31] The windows of Rheims Cathedral were filled with stained Venetian
glass dating from the 12th century and impossible to replace.
[32] The interior of Rheims Cathedral was furnished with sixty-six large
pieces of priceless old tapestry, representing scenes in the life of
Christ, the story of the Virgin, and scenes from the life of St. Paul,
the latter after designs by Raphael. These tapestries had been removed
to a place of safety.