"It is of no consequence if all the monuments ever created, all the pictures ever painted, and all the buildings ever erected by the great architects of the world were destroyed, if by their destruction we promote Germany's victory over her enemies. . . . The commonest, ugliest stone placed to mark the burial-place of a German grenadier is a more glorious and perfect monument than all the cathedrals of Europe put together. . . . Let neutral peoples and our enemies cease their empty chatter, which is no better than the twittering of birds. Let them cease their talk about the cathedral at Rheims, and about all the churches and castles of France which have shared its fate. These things do not interest us."
How the destruction of a noble work of art could promote Germany's victory over her enemies is difficult to understand. It is worthy of note that a hotel close to the cathedral remained untouched: it was kept by a German.
For some months the north-east tower of the cathedral had been under repair, and when the bombardment began it was surrounded by scaffolding. On 19th September a shell set fire to the outer roof; the fire quickly spread to the scaffolding, and then to the wooden beams of the portal. An American correspondent tells us that, when the flames gained on the building, the Archbishop of Rheims and a party of volunteers rushed inside and carried out the wounded Germans on stretchers. The rescuing parties were not a minute too soon. Already from the roofs molten lead was falling. The blazing doors had fired the straw on which the wounded lay, and the interior was like a prairie fire. Splashed by the molten lead, and threatened by falling timbers, the priests, at the risk of their lives and limbs, carried out the wounded, numbering sixty in all. But after bearing them to safety their charges were confronted with a new danger. Inflamed by the sight of their own dead, four hundred citizens having been killed by the bombardment, and by the loss of their cathedral, the people of Rheims who were gathered about the burning building called for the lives of the German prisoners. "They are barbarians," they cried. "Kill them!" The archbishop and one of his clergy placed themselves in front of the wounded.