Part 11

In the examination before the Commandant at headquarters she defiantly confessed to having aided the French soldiers to escape, crying out, "Yes, I did it for France, and I shall do it again and again, if I am able. Do with me what you will. I am an orphan, I have but one mother, France! For her, my life!"

The Commandant promptly sentenced her to be shot. She was taken out of the room into the courtyard, where they placed her against the wall facing the firing squad, her arms tied behind her.

Suddenly French artillery opened upon the German lines at Eclusier. Before the officer could give the word to fire upon the brave girl, a shell fell in the courtyard, and in the confusion, wonderful to relate, she escaped. While she had been assisting her fellow countrymen to escape the French had crept up, and routed the invaders from their position in the little town.

So Marcelle once more fled to the subterranean passage, and there took up her quarters, rendering great service to the army, through her knowledge of the surrounding country.

Between the lines of the opposing armies lay the river Somme, which here in the vicinity of Eclusier and Frise spreads out into a pond with marshy banks, and innumerable pitfalls and bogs. In these the soldiers frequently lost their way, and here Marcelle found a way to help France by her knowledge of the safe paths. Again and again she faced death; finally she was captured while leading a squad of men across the bogs to a trench at Frise. She was brought by the Germans to the village of Frise, and there confined in the parish church, now, alas, a mass of ruin. Once more her never departing good fortune was her salvation. Almost before the door of her prison was fastened upon her, the French artillery began a lively bombardment of Frise. One of the shells blew a great hole in the wall of the little church, and out of this hole, unperceived by her captors, Marcelle escaped, over the marshes and through the tangled roads into the French lines.

Enabled to give most valuable information as to the numbers and guns of the enemy, Marcelle's fame soon spread through the ranks. She was mentioned in the dispatches, and received the Cross of the Legion of Honor, and later, before the drawn up soldiers of the corps, she received the War Cross.

She was so useful in this region of the Somme that she asked to be allowed to remain at Frise to work for France, and so for a year and a half, despite the turn of the war, she stayed on, taking care of the wounded men, and protecting as far as possible women and children.

So beloved did she become that an English general ordered his soldiers to salute her on passing, and to refrain from addressing her unless she required it. Everywhere she went the soldiers both admired and honored this young girl.

The loss of her brothers, who died fighting for France, and the strain of her work told upon her health, and the doctors ordered her to Paris.

Here she asked to be allowed to work at the nurses' school and to aid the wounded soldiers. To this the authorities assented, as she was thus enabled to earn a livelihood, for all that she had was lost at Eclusier when the mill was destroyed. In the great hall of the Sorbonne at Paris, a short time ago Deputy Klotz (of the Somme) eulogizing this young girl, suddenly stretched out his arms in dramatic gesture, electrifying the great audience with these words:

"This little heroine of Picardy, this admirable girl; this incarnation of the qualities of the women of France; this girl of simple origin, flawless dignity, of serious mind and gentle ways; this girl of indomitable will power is here, ladies and gentlemen, here among you, in this room!

"And I feel that I am the spokesman for every one of you when I now extend to her the expression of our respect, our gratitude, our admiration!"

The vast audience, every man and woman of them, leaped to their feet, in enthusiasm, craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the heroine.

Through the great Hall of the Sorbonne, where the most famous men of the world had been honored by France, swept a storm of cheers; a reward more splendid than the Cross of the Legion of Honor, than the War Cross, than the salutes of the soldiers at the front, had come to Marcelle Semmer, of Eclusier.

LÂON

|MOST travelers from Paris to Geneva will recall the brief stop of the train at the station, and a glimpse perhaps of the gaunt gray towers on the top of the great hill against the evening sky, looking much more like a fortress than a cathedral from the viewpoint below.

Called the "Rock of Lâon," it was in ancient days the Celtic Laudunam, and was known to the Romans as Lug-dunam Clavatum.

"Lâon is the very pride of that class of town which out of Gaulish hill forts grew into Roman and Mediaeval cities. None stands so proudly on its height; none has kept its ancient character so little changed to our own day" (says Marshall). It was here that Louis, or Lodo-wig, who was the famous son of Count Eudes, established an illustrious court, presided over by the "brave" Duchess Gerberga, and here afterwards Charles, their son, maintained a successfully defended siege against the onslaught by Hugues Capet on this stronghold. The treachery of Asceline the Bishop resulted in the capture of the town, and as a reward, Capet made him "the second Ecclesiastical Peer of France."

Henceforth the city was famed as the seat of the Capetian dynasty, whose bishops ruled it until it was captured by the Prussians in 1814, when it served as the headquarters of Blucher, in his operations against Napoleon I. After the Battle of Waterloo the French troops attempted to reform their shattered lines under its walls.

Lâon was the birthplace of the mother of Charlemagne, Lothaire, Louis IV, and Louis V.

Crowning royally the great hill which dominated the town and the plain, the remarkable Cathedral of Notre Dame with its many beautiful towers formed a picturesque feature that once seen could not be forgotten. One can only compare it to the towers of Mont St. Michel of La Manche, with its encircling battlemented walls, but Lâon in point of architecture was infinitely the finer of the two.

It is said to have been the work of Bishop Gauthier II (de Montagne) of the twelfth century, and built upon the site of a previous structure which had been burnt during an uprising in the early part of that century. Originally there were four great towers, one at each of the angles. Of these two remained lacking the spires. The façade was most remarkable for its extremely deep portals. The two towers, which were square at the base, terminated in octagonal belfries, and the angle buttresses supported light two-storied open-work turrets of most graceful design.

The cathedral was remarkable for the square apse, and there was a tall lanthorn tower in the center of the church, which had two windows separated by buttresses.

In the "chevet" a rose window was placed above three long openings, over which was a gallery between the turrets.

The pulpit was from the Abbey of Val-St.-Pierre.

From below, the cathedral, as I have already said, looked more like a fortress surmounted by a great chateau. Strange celebrations, seemingly lacking in religious character, were enacted in the cathedral, particularly those celebrated during the month of December. "This, the fête des Innocents, took place in the choir, when the children, wearing strange costumes with copes occupied the high carved stalls and chanted the £ offices' of the mass with every sort of buffoonery, to the great delight of the people.

"Eight days after this comes the 'day of Fools,' during which the chaplain and choristers meet to elect a 'pope,' who is styled the Patriarch of Fools. Those who neglect to participate in this election are expected to pay a fine. After a procession the Patriarch is offered a repast of wine and bread with great solemnity, and he in turn gives to each chorister a present of corn in payment. The whole troop wear the most fantastic ornaments, and during the two following days the entire cathedral is given over to their buffoonery. After many cavalcades by the townspeople the fête terminates in a great procession of the 'rabardiaux.'" (Viollet le Duc.)

This celebration degenerated into a simple custom of the giving wreaths of flowers following the celebration of mass on the Day of Epiphany.

It is strange that these towns, explored by the present writer, should have been so neglected by the tourist. Of course, it is chiefly to the artist that they seemed so quaint, entrancing and profitable. No such exquisite arrangements of composition were found in other countries as here in France, and really at the doorway of Paris. Of course now and then there was trouble for me, because I made sketches of these charming localities; and even as late as 1910, when the sketches reproduced in this book were made, forty years after the Franco-Prussian War, when there seemed to be no possible danger of war in France, I was many times in danger of arrest for drawing a church or an old wall. Several times my portfolio had been seized by officers at the frontier towns, and I had been "detained" with more or less brusqueness until the superior officer could be summoned, but I must say that these occasions usually ended by profuse apologies on the part of M. le Commissaire, who deplored the activity of his men and offered his cigarette case most graciously, begging that I should forget the incident and wishing me "good luck." But it is perhaps now unnecessary to warn the artist abroad to keep away from fortifications, or to carry his passports with him.

Lâon to-day is hidden behind a heavy black curtain of smoke from the great guns of the Germans. What has been the fate of that old gray town is problematical. It is said that the Germans have shot away the two great towers of the beloved old cathedral, and that the walls of the picturesque plateau upon which it rested have been razed. Beyond this nothing has been disclosed for the two years during which the invader has occupied it. Northeast of the cathedral was the thirteenth century Bishopric, used for a long time as the Hall of Justice. It was erected by Bishop Garnier in 1242. It was a rather dismal looking structure, and altogether lacking in architectural distinction. Whatever it may have been in former days, I ventured to say as much to an advocate with whom I chanced to converse at the table d'hôte, and I shall not soon forget the reproof my criticism called down upon me. I learned thereafter to govern my tongue, whatever my convictions. The Lâonaise bitterly resented adverse criticism of any one of their beloved monuments.

Along the edge of the hill below there were unusually delightful promenades, shaded here and there by thick heavy foliage, through which charming vistas appeared.

The long street on the ridge of the embattlemented hill wound along most delightfully, bringing the wanderer to the old church of St. Martin at the edge of the town. This, it is said, was once the appanage of a Premonstratensian Abbey of the twelfth century. It had two bays and a transept, and six small chapels of unique character. According to legend, the first bay was built to enclose the tomb of a Sire de Coucy, its benefactor. This Sire de Coucy had been excommunicated by the clergy, and being thus outside the pale of religion, he had been buried without ceremony outside the west door. This caused such remonstrance upon the part of the people, who loved him well for his great charities, if not for his sins, that the clergy relented, and it was necessary to enlarge the bay to accommodate his grave.

The twin towers from the last bay are of the thirteenth century. Near the entrance were a number of tombs, some of them of remarkable richness of design, notably that of Jeanne de Flandre, widow of Enguerrand IV, Sire de Coucy, Abbess of Saviour-sous-Lâon in the fourteenth century, and said to have been the work of the Flemish sculptor, Pierre de Puez. If this work of art has been destroyed as reported, another unnecessary crime is added to the list.

There was also the low relief figure of a knight in armor, evidently of the greatest antiquity, although it was dated twelve hundred and something, the first two figures being barely discernible.

The ancient suburb of Vaux has been under bombardment for more than two years. Little is known to us of the extent of the damage it has suffered, but I remember a lovely old church of the eleventh century, with a most beautiful old choir of a little later period, where the old priest, who was considerable of an antiquary, by the way, showed me a fragment of tapestry, done in silk and wool, and of considerable value, as a specimen of workmanship. He plainly was anxious that I should admire it, and to oblige him I did so. He showed me also his books, some with good bindings, others worn by use. He seemed an innocent sort of man and lonely for companionship, telling me with simple dignity of his daily life in the quiet parish and the details of his office.

The highest pay of a parish priest, he said, was fifteen hundred francs a year ($300); the lowest, eight hundred, of course in addition to his living quarters. He eked out his scanty income by the fees paid him at weddings, christenings, and burials. When I told him of the sums paid in America to ministers, his eyes bulged and his under lip bulged comically. Then he wagged his head, lifted his arms, shoulders and eyebrows, sighed heavily, and changed the subject.

Poor old fellow, I wonder what has become of him in these terrible days. When I left him I gave him a pencil sketch of his church which I had made, embowered in heavy trees, as a souvenir. I neglected to make another, so I cannot picture it here, in this chapter, to my great regret.

Château: Couey

Perhaps the greatest, or at any rate the most indefensible piece of vandalism perpetrated by the retiring armies of the invader, was the total annihilation of the great castle of Coucy-le-Château in March of this year. Coucy castle, legend says, was built upon the site given to St. Remi by Clovis, in the fulfillment of a condition that the former should walk around it while the King enjoyed his noonday siesta. Afterwards it was part of the property of the Chapter of Rheims for upwards of two hundred years. In the year nine hundred and twenty-nine King Charles the Simple was imprisoned in its donjon by Herbert, Count of Vermandois. Enguerrand I, founder of the house of Coucy, received the castle in fief from the Archbishop of Rheims, and from it departed with his knights in quest of the Holy Grail and was distinguished in the Crusades. His descendant, Enguerrand III, who was surnamed the Great, rebuilt the castle, and when he flouted the authority of the Chapter of Rheims, and they laid the matter before the king, he answered with the words: "Je ne puis faire autre chose pour vous que de priere le Sire de Coucy de ne point vous inquiéter." In the subsequent quarrel with the Chapter of Lâon, Enguer-rand at the head of his cohort stormed the Cathedral and carried off the dean a prisoner to Coucy, where he languished at the pleasure of the fiery knight.

The laws he promulgated and forced upon the barony were called "Le Coutume de Coucy."

The battle of Bouvignes, in which he performed many acts of prowess and valor, and also his successes during the Albigensian war of 1209 added to his great fame as a warrior and caused the league of nobles to propose the dethronement of Louis IX, then a child, whose crown they offered to Enguerrand.

So proud were his descendants that they abandoned their other titles and called themselves simple "de Coucy" and adopted the motto "Roi ne suys--ne prince, ne duc, ne compte aussi--je suys le Sire de Coucy."

Descendants sold the Château, as it was called, and Jie Seigneurie de Coucy to Louis d'Orléans in 1400, who made it a duchy, and so amplified and decorated it that it became noteworthy throughout the realm. In 1411 it was besieged and captured by the royal army, and retained until 1419, when it was taken by the troops of the Duke of Orleans. In 1423 it was captured by the English, and again in 1652 by the royal army and dismantled by order of Mazarin. At the outbreak it was an "historical monument" kept up by the state as a museum.

Coucy-le-Chateau was one of the greatest and most splendid relics of the thirteenth century. Nothing remains of it now. It has been utterly blasted away from the foundations. On the heights is only a series of great piles of crumpled masonry and pulverized rock. The oldest, the strongest, the largest and most historic of the castles of Europe is now only a memory.

So enraged were the French at this piece of wanton destruction, that they refused to bombard the ruins, even though they knew that the invader had intrenched machine gunners behind and beneath it.

Instead the infantry, unsupported by artillery, charged across a plain swept by gun fire and wrested the sacred ruin from the enemy.

So terrific was the assault that the Germans could make no counter attack.

Before they left the Germans boasted to the French villagers that more than thirty tons of explosives were used to destroy the castle. So great was the explosion, the peasants who witnessed it from a distance report that the great round tower, visible for miles around, seemed to rise in its vast bulk from the foundations, and slowly vanish in a cloud of whitish smoke. So fell Coucy. Another crime added to the already long list against the invader.

The official explanation for its destruction coming from Berlin, is that "the Castle was not worth more than the life of one German soldier, and there are plenty of other such castles in southern Germany."

The best view of the great chateau was that from the approach from the town of Lâon. My sketch shows the ruin in springtime, its battlements rising from the trees at its base, its magnificent pinkish gray mass against a sky of heavy white cumulous cloud just after a gentle rain.

The small town nestled below it, and still had some vestiges of the old walls that formerly protected it.

There was a small inn bearing the grandiose title: "Hotel des Trois Empereurs," whose landlady cooked for us the best omelette we ever tasted, and begged us to take her daughter to America with us as "maid for Madame." The daughter we never saw, by the way. She had gone to Lâon for the day and we left on the afternoon train before she returned, to the great chagrin of Madame.

My sketch shows the château on the end of a promontory. This was approached by a steep and narrow roadway. The great outer court was of irregular form, with what is styled a "curtain wall," of remarkable thickness; more than twenty feet, authorities claim. Beneath it was a subterranean passageway, "so arranged as to be mine proof" (Viollet le Duc). The wall was supported by ten remarkable towers, three of them circular in form. There was a great dry moat between this wall and the keep proper, paved with rounded stones, and there was a drawbridge lifted by heavy chains which completely shut off the inner court of the castle when lifted. On the arch of the great portal over this drawbridge was a rude sculptured scene depicting a combat between one of the "Sires of Coucy" and a lion which, according to legend, took place in the nearby wood of Prémontré. Near it was a sort of stone table supported by three couchant lions upon which stood a lion passant. Here each year, according to a pretty custom, a young girl of the peasant class gave cakes and flowers to the townspeople, after which there was a parade by the local fire company, and in the evening a "retraite aux flambeaux," in which the young men carried lighted torches through the town, headed by a drum and fife.

The tower of the chateau was more than one hundred and fifty feet high and three hundred feet in circumference. In the drawing by Viollet le Duc it is shown surmounted by a conical roof, and this must have made it quite two hundred feet in height.

"The interior was divided into three floors, once covered by ribbed vaulting, which has now perished. The upper floors and the platform at the top were reached by a winding staircase in the thickness of the wall. In the center of each vault was an opening through which men in armor could be let down quickly. The two lower floors were apparently used for the arms and provisions of the garrison." (Hare's "Northeastern France.")

The donjon, according to Viollet le Duc, was the finest specimen in Europe of mediaeval military architecture.

"Compared with this giant," he says, "the largest towers known appear mere spindles." So vanished from the face of the earth a great architectural treasure destroyed simply for revenge.

RHEIMS

|INSTEAD of being in appearance "a most venerable and aged town," as one might be led to expect from the accounts in the various guides, Rheims, or Reims (so variously spelled) was (1910) nothing of the sort. Situated on the right bank of the river Vesle in the midst of a vast plain encompassed by vine-clad hills, a most ideal setting, it was the busy and chief center of the champagne trade, and also otherwise occupied in the manufacture of both woolen and other fabrics. Until recently one of the most picturesque towns in France, it was intersected by wide and handsome streets reminding one of the Parisian boulevards, which although convenient gave it quite another character. And this "Haussmanization" (if one may so style it) did away with its former quaint mediævalness.

Formerly there was an ideally artistic approach to the great cathedral of "Notre Dame," in a quaint narrow street lined with strangely gabled houses and small shops shown in my sketch, but these have been demolished, and a wide straight street, lined with characterless buildings, now forms a very commonplace frame to hold one's first view of this noble and magnificent structure, the master work of the architects Rob. de Coucy and J. d'Orbais, which Fergusson justly names and qualifies as "perhaps the most beautiful structure produced in the middle ages." Far down this commonplace street one could see the exquisite recessed portals (there are three), with its rows of saints, surmounted by the great rose window, nearly forty feet in circumference, and above the forty-two exquisite lancets, each containing a colossal figure representing the Baptism of Clovis, and the Kings of France. All detail softened by distance, like unto carved tracery upon a jewel casket.

The three portals, so exquisitely recessed, were adorned with some five hundred and fifty statues of various sizes, some of them of great antiquity, and many of them on close inspection proving to be much worn by the action of the elements, or having suffered mutilation in the wars.

Without entering into a tiresome architectural description, which would be out of place in these pages, one may call attention to some of the remarkable details of the façade above the three portals pierced by large windows, which was so lavishly decorated with sculpture; to the left, Christ in the garb of a pilgrim; to the right, the Virgin, and the Apostles, David and Saul; and Goliath.

Place du Marché: Rheims

The twin towers, more than two hundred and fifty feet high, which were without spires, were none the less impressive. The north portal contained statues of the Bishops of Rheims from Clovis down, and there was here a doorway walled up containing a Gothic tympanum of the Last Judgment, the figures of which, however, with the exception of the Christ, were greatly mutilated.