STORIES OF THE BATTLE OF THE MARNE.
While the British and French were retreating from Belgium to the Seine,
they were passing through country which had been untrodden by the foot
of the enemy. Now that they were pushing him back on his tracks they saw
at every stage the awful destruction which he had wrought. They found
country houses burned and looted, smiling gardens and orchards trampled
into mud, farms and villages laid waste, humble cottages in ruin. They
saw towns riddled with shot and shell, churches and public buildings
with broken, tottering walls, and houses stripped of all their valuable
contents. From townsfolk and villagers alike, the Allies heard tales of
shame and horror, and as they heard them a fierce anger was kindled in
their hearts against the cruel and ruthless foe who had done such wicked
and senseless deeds.
An officer of the Salvation Army tells us how the pretty town of Senlis
fared at the hands of the Huns. When the Germans had been driven out of
the town the Salvation Army officers entered it. They found the railway
station gone, and scarcely a house along the whole line of march fit for
habitation. Yet, in the middle of wrecked and ruined homes, they
sometimes came across a house which had been untouched. On such houses
was written in chalk, "Spare these people; they are good."
Here is the story of Jean Bauer, keeper of the prison at Senlis. He was
an Alsatian, and had been forced to serve in the hated German army.
After his time was up he left Alsace for France, and chanced to visit
Senlis. The town pleased him, and he remained in it. After a time he was
placed in charge of the prison. It was a small lock-up, just a square
brick building, with a large garden all round, in which he grew
cabbages. He was a kindly man, and the few prisoners who came into his
hands did not find their lot very hard.
Then suddenly came the war. One morning Senlis was filled with the
blue-coated, red-trousered soldiers of France. An hour or two later they
had gone, marching northwards. Some days passed, and they returned,
hurrying southwards, weary and worn, with ragged, soiled uniforms, some
bleeding and bruised, but none dismayed. Then there was a lull, and
breathless townsmen came hurrying to the mayor with the terrible news
that the Germans were coming! The mayor and the curé bade the people be
calm, and do nothing to resist or hamper the enemy. They listened to his
words, and gave up their hidden guns. Soon afterwards sixty thousand
Germans marched in, seized the mayor as a hostage, and for two days
remained in the town, mingling with the people, playing with the
children, and behaving themselves well.
All this time there lay hidden in the attic of a house overlooking the
main street six dusky sons of Algeria, soldiers of France, who had been
trapped by the coming of the Germans. Their rifles were in their hands,
and there was revenge in their hearts. There they lay, waiting for a
chance to strike a blow against the enemy.
The chance soon came. The Germans paraded one morning, ready for their
southward march. The mayor was released; the word was given, and the
blue-gray legions tramped through the streets. As the rear of the long
columns passed the Algerians in the garret aimed their rifles and fired.
Six loud reports were heard, followed by two shrieks of pain and two
heavy thuds on the cobbled road below.
"Halt!" The Germans turn and re-enter the town. The mayor is led out and
shot; parties are told off to fire the place; petrol bombs are thrown
into the houses; the railway station is destroyed; fierce flames spring
up, and the smoke of burning homes rises to heaven. In a mile and a half
of streets only three small cottages are spared.
Jean Bauer at the prison sees the flames approaching. He shuts himself
in and waits. Nearer and nearer come the roar of the fire and the hoarse
shouts of those who are destroying the place. Suddenly, as he begins to
think that the prison will be spared, crash!--a bomb bursts through the
roof. Bricks and beams fall about him, and a cloud of dust arises. He
is pinned beneath the débris, and cannot move. He shouts; no one hears.
For a day and a night he lies amidst the ruins. At last his feeble voice
is heard, and kindly hands tear away the bricks and beams, and rescue
him. A few days' care, and he is well again. But Senlis is a wilderness
of desolation. It can never be the same again.
* * * * *
The town of Meaux, on the Marne, was also in German hands for a time.
Meaux is a very interesting city, with a cathedral dating from the
twelfth century. In 1681 a very celebrated man, named Bossuet,[112]
became bishop of Meaux. He was one of the most eloquent men who ever
lived, and fully deserved to be called "the golden-mouthed." Not only
was he the first of French orators and one of the greatest masters of
French prose, but he was brave and fearless as well, and strove
earnestly to make men appreciate the littleness of earthly greatness and
the greatness of heavenly joy.
When the Germans entered Meaux they found that the bishop was a man
after Bossuet's likeness. The mayor and the chief officials had left the
city, but the bishop remained. He was entreated to fly, but he replied,
"My duty is here. I do not think the enemy will hurt me; but if they do,
God's will be done. I cannot leave my cathedral or those of my flock who
remain." The brave bishop met the German general, and obtained a promise
from him that the invaders would behave well. They did so. Meaux owes
its preservation to the good bishop.
[Illustration: The City of Meaux after the German Retreat.
_Photo, Sport and General._]
* * * * *
Another little town which the Germans held until they were driven
northward towards the Aisne was Château-Thierry,[113] round which there
was much fierce fighting during the Allied advance. Château-Thierry
stands on the right bank of the Marne, and, prior to the war, was a
bright, cheerful place. Near the bridge is a statue to La Fontaine,[114]
the great writer of fables which must be familiar to many of you. Close
by the ruined castle, which is reached by a flight of 102 steps, is the
house in which he lived. It now contains a library and small museum.
In his book of Fables La Fontaine says:--
"These fables are much more than they appear--
The simplest animals are teachers here.
The bare dull moral weariness soon brings;
The story serves to give it life and wings."
As La Fontaine made animals teachers of wisdom to men, it is very
appropriate that the three chief hotels in his native town should be
"The Elephant," "The Giraffe," and "The Swan." The latter hotel was
battered to pieces by French shells when the Allies crossed the river;
but the owner was so proud of his countrymen's prowess in gunnery that
he quite forgot to bemoan his loss. When he was showing his house to a
stranger after the battle, he said, "See how splendidly true our
gunners' aim was!"
* * * * *
During the retreat a body of weary Germans halted for rest in a little
town, and noticed that the church clock had stopped. Perhaps you know
that signals can be made by moving the hands of a clock in various ways.
When the Germans saw that the clock had stopped, they felt sure that
somebody was signalling to the French that they were in the town. They
therefore sent for the curé, and ordered him to set the clock going
again. Along with two choir boys, he ascended the tower and wound up the
clock, which immediately began to strike. The suspicious Germans
believed that this was another trick, so they arrested the curé and the
boys, and told them that they would be shot next morning. The old priest
was overwhelmed with grief, for he felt that he would be the means of
cutting short two young lives. He suffered agonies of remorse during the
night. Early next morning the Allies rushed into the town, and the
Germans fled. The curé and the boys waited long for the coming of their
gaolers. At last the old priest opened the door of the prison, and
stepped out into the sunshine for the purpose of making a last appeal to
the Germans to spare the lives of the boys. Imagine his surprise and
relief when he saw the familiar blue and red uniforms of French
soldiers, and learnt that the Germans had departed for good and all.
[Footnote 112: _Boss´ū-ā._ Born 1627, died 1704.]
[Footnote 113: _Shā-tō´ Te-er-ree´._]
[Footnote 114: Born 1621, died 1695. His _Fables_ were published in
1668. They have been translated into almost every European language.]