Had the Cathedral of Amiens received the same punishment, because of the lightness of its construction the vaults would undoubtedly have given way, the flying buttresses would have crushed in the walls and nothing would have remained but a mass of crumbled stone, with the exception of perhaps the ruins of the towers.  If anything therefore remains of Rheims Cathedral it is due, as I have already said, to the robustness of its construction and not to any desire on the part of those bombarding it to spare it from utter destruction.

The monument, about which no troops were massed, towers above the rest of the town; to avoid it, in view of the uselessness of destroying it and because it was serving as a hospital, would have been an easy matter.  The entire quarter of the city situated between it and the enemy is destroyed, including the Episcopal Palace, which contained the Archaeological Museum, the Episcopal Chapel, and what was known as the “Apartment of the Kings.”  This quarter also contained the principal commercial houses.

“Blind Rage” Causes Attack.

It would seem that the only explanation which can be offered was blind rage upon the part of the besieging army.

There are two monuments of almost equal importance to the world which are in jeopardy of the same fate as the Cathedral of Rheims, viz., the Cathedrals of Noyon and Laon.  That these will be respected is to be hoped, in spite of the ruthless and miserable attempt to reduce the glorious monuments of Rheims to ruins.

On Friday, Sept. 25, the Germans further shelled the Abbey of Remy at Rheims, one shell exploding in the interior and destroying an immense quantity of glass.  The civil hospital, which occupies the cloisters of St. Remy, received as its quota nine bombs, one of which killed four of the patients in the beds, and another one of the attendants.  Needless to say that over this building also were flying flags of the Red Cross.

On Sunday, Sept. 27, I spent about two hours on top of the north tower of the cathedral, behind the parapets, where I could not be seen, watching the bombardment of the French forces, which was going on in the suburbs of the town, situated at about two kilometers from my point of vantage.  It was most interesting, the precision with which the German shells arrived in groups of six at intervals of, I should say, three to five minutes.  The French troops were all wonderfully covered so that they could not be seen, their guns being concealed under straw or beet leaves, according to the character of the ground upon which the battery was established.

No smoke came from their guns, their powder being absolutely smokeless, and yet the Germans seemed to have located them very thoroughly and kept up a continual bombardment, their shells landing repeatedly over the same place, seemingly, without any deviation whatever.

Shot Proclaims “Lights Out.”

We all slept the Saturday and Sunday nights in Rheims, which was in a state of siege, all lights being out at 8 o’clock.  One of our party foolishly left his window open while he had his light on; a pistol shot from the police drew attention to the fact, and the entire electric light of the hotel was immediately cut off.