FROM the railway station one could see the towers of the cathedral and the old church of St. Pierre, above the heavy trees of a short avenue which led to that part of the town, where formerly stood the old ramparts—and to the Porte Royale.

The best and most picturesque part of the town, of interest to the antiquary, was the western end, and here were tortuous and delightful crooked narrow streets, quaint little gabled houses, old mossy walls surrounding luxuriant gardens, and some remains of the remarkable chateaux of a bygone period.

Ancient stronghold in past centuries, it had become a little old sleepy town given over to churches and the priesthood. Of the ancient Gallo-Roman fortifications there were still to be seen, up to the outbreak of the war in 1914, sixteen of the Roman towers in a fair state of preservation. A small river, the Nonette, passes through it, winding most exquisitely. Situated some thirty-five miles from Paris, and on the edge of the Champagne district, its character could be best appraised from the charming public promenade along the river's bank, lined with fine trees and offering vistas of great picturesqueness.

The old cathedral dates back to the early days of the thirteenth century; its lace-like gray tower, covered with exquisite Gothic ornamentation, was a source of delight to artists and antiquarians. Usually covered with scaffolding, the tower was in a constant state of repair, but the spidery scaffolding seemed not at all to detract from the charm of its lines.

One of the architects in charge explained that the vaulting and the first stage of the choir, the "triform ambulatory" had been removed because of cracks developing in the masonry, but this alteration did not seem to have resulted in any loss to the interior artistically. Indeed, as it stood in 1910, the choir elevation was a most exquisite example of thirteenth century construction and design.

Ancient Ramparts: Senlis

Original

Lying in the midst of the great forest lands of Chantilly and Hallette, Senlis, until the dissolution of the Carlo-vingian Empire, was the place of royal residence, and even thereafter, to the time of Henry of Navarre, the kings of France preferred it to all others. The Castle was built upon the site of the Roman PrÆtorium, the ruins of which were pointed out to tourists. The ancient Roman ramparts which still in part surrounded the town were also shown, and the walls were said to be thirteen feet thick. "They enclosed an area, oval in form, one thousand and twenty feet long from east to west and seven hundred and ninety-four feet wide from north to south. At each of the angles formed by the broken lines of which the circuit of two thousand seven hundred and fifty-six feet is composed, stands or stood a tower; numbering twenty-eight and now only sixteen, they are semicircular in plan, and up to the height of the wall are unpierced. The Roman city had only two gates; the present number is five."

The old cathedral was both curious and fascinating, as well as of great beauty. Begun in 1154 on really enormous lines, its original plan was never carried out for want of funds. Century after century it had been rebuilt, altered, extended and replanned, until it had become, as an American architect of renown styled it, "an epitome of French architecture from the middle of the twelfth to the middle of the fifteenth century."

Its companion unfinished, the great southwest tower is of the thirteenth century, and is said to be "unsurpassed by no other spire in France for subtlety of composition and perfection of detail."

One of its beautiful "crocketed" pinnacles was shot away in the bombardment by the Germans in 1915, and the loss left the world poor indeed.

It is certainly a strange sensation for us to watch from a distance the continuous destruction of the great works of art of the world, powerless to prevent it. For us all this loss is personal, poignant, unexampled; a horror that nothing can palliate nor time soften.

The ancient Renaissance tower of St. Pierre had been used as a public market, and also as a cavalry barrack because of its ruinous state. In form it was most curious, being very short and too wide for proportion. While the prevailing style was flamboyant, it contained a certain amount of early Gothic work of considerable interest and value. I regret that I did not make a sketch of it when I was there, for the scene at early morning with the crowds of market people, and the vegetable stalls all about, and rising above them the bare gray walls of the nave and the choir, formed a picture of much quaintness.

The glory of the old cathedral of "Notre Dame" was the beautiful spire upon the southwest tower. Of infinite grace and lightness with its detached pillars, it rose from an octagonal base which supported a sort of canopy in pyramidal form, the whole adorned with a wealth of delicate carving and tracery, and pierced by high dormer lancet shaped windows, about which flew clouds of ravens or starlings.

The great door in the west front reminded one of that at Chartres, and was adorned with figures of Our Lord and the Virgin, some of the figures of the angels being of remarkable character and grace. Inside in the ambulatory, behind the altar, are some of the twelfth century Romanesque capitals, and elsewhere are found other evidences of Roman influence.

All accounts agree that this beautiful edifice has now been entirely destroyed by the invader (1917).

Former wars have swept the little town from time to time in the past, but the cathedral remained practically untouched until the present day. Whatever the former causes, or however violent the onslaught of the opposing forces, these priceless records of art were spared by common consent, save perhaps when the Revolution swept over the cloisters, and even then the havoc wrought was reparable, but now comes one calling himself the anointed representative of God, and annihilates an innocent people and destroys the treasures of a land which he cannot conquer.

Just what remains at this time of Senlis cannot be ascertained, but all accounts agree that the huge gray Romanesque tower can no longer be seen upon the horizon, and that the bombardment of the ruins continues. Baron AndrÉ de Maricourt has written a most complete monograph of Senlis. (Senlis. Baron AndrÉ de Maricourt, ancien ÉlÈve de l'École des Chartes. "Les CitÉs Meurtries." Paris. Librarie de l'Eclair.)

"Hidden away among the heavy trees which surround it upon all sides, lies the little town of Senlis, almost a suburb of Paris." According to the old proverb, "To live happily is to remain hidden." So Senlis remained comparatively forgotten. The very names of its streets were strange to modern ears and evoked smiles from the stranger, and its old houses, dating from the days of "la reine Berthe," enchanted the antiquary.

This little town of seven thousand inhabitants was indeed one of the capitals of ancient France during the times of the Capets, and in the royal chÂteau which sheltered the chiefs of the Merovingians, and royalties down to the days of Henry IV, were written many pages of the history of France. One recalls the days of Charles le Chauve, of d'Hugues Capet and St. Louis, the quarrel of the Armagnaces and the Bourguignons, recalled by the strange picture by Melingue, "Les Otages de Senlis," which was in the HÔtel de Ville up to the time of the bombardment by the Germans. Also may be recalled the passage of Jeanne d'Arc through the town, and then the wars of the "Ligue,"—all proving the importance of Senlis of the past.

In the eighteenth century, Louis XV, in order to render the town more accessible, constructed a fine roadway from Paris to the royal residence, and Senlis emerged from its quietude, amazed at the lines of gilded equipages and the prancing horses urged on the gallop by gorgeously dressed lackeys which daily thronged the way.

Cathedral: Senlis

Original

This roadway, called formerly the "Rue Neuve de Paris," was the principal artery of the little old city, under the twenty-year-old name of "Rue de la RÉpublique."

Sung by poets, such as GÉrard de Nerval, and Maurice BarrÉs, M. AndrÉ Haileys described Senlis as "tortueuse, taciturne et charmante," and dwelt lovingly upon its "mossy terraces," its ancient walls bathed in sunlight, and its grand old tower whose perfect bells sounded over the golden green fields.

In the early summer days of 1914, the Society of Amateurs held their celebration at Senlis, says Baron de Maricourt, "a few months ago, months which seem years now. The ceremony was to celebrate the Victory of Bouvignes. In the St. Rieul Hall, Madame la duchesse de VendÔme sat beside M. Odent, the mayor of the town, who spoke feelingly of ancient France, and of Flanders....

"One month later the Hall was occupied by cavalry; our own cavalry of France.... On the horizon lay the German army....

"Three weeks later M. Odent, the mayor, was killed in the bombardment; the Hall of Saint-Rieul was a hospital; the brother of the princess had become 'Albert le Brave,' the plain of Bouvignes was bathed in blood; Senlis was burning; the inhabitants had fled."

It would appear that Senlis was burned and sacked to inspire Paris with terror, and as an example of the fate that awaited her.

Nearly all the inhabitants fled when the news came that the Germans had crossed the border. A few of the citizens resolved to remain to support the mayor and magistrates in keeping the peace, to patrol the town to prevent looting, and to watch for fires. Some pieces of heavy artillery had been arranged before the HÔtel de Ville and under the towers of the Cathedral, but there was neither ammunition for these nor soldiers in the town to use them. The town was silent, the factories empty, the streets almost deserted. In the town hall, the few faithful ones remained on watch day and night grouped about the mayor. In some of the rooms were refugees from neighboring towns, old men and women with young children who had nowhere else to go. In the hospitals the nuns and nurses cared for the wounded who had been brought to the town in large numbers. There were no soldiers hereabouts. This is the truth (affirms the Baron de Maricourt). The Germans understood and saw a different picture, so they say. They heard the movement of vast bodies of armed men; they saw the "franc tireurs" in the trees firing upon them, they saw cannon protruding from the windows of the towers of the old cathedral.... So the knell of Louvain sounded for Senlis.... So wrote the Baron de Maricourt of Senlis, who remained in the town during the occupation by the Germans, who suffered at their hands all the indignities they could devise; who remained calm and heroic through all the terrors of the bombardment and destruction of his beloved town.

"The first German body of troops which entered the town carried with them a corps of incendiaries in regular formation upon bicycles, armed with tubes of metal containing, as was afterwards ascertained, picric acid, and others a kind of wick of cotton charged with gasoline or petroleum. Some of the men carried hand grenades strung around their waists or over their shoulders, and these they threw into open windows and doorways of designated houses. By midnight the sky was illuminated by fires in every quarter of the town."

It commenced in the faubourg St.-Martin. It is said that the soldiers warned the occupants of houses designated to leave before they set fire to them. "Let us be just to the German soldiers," says M. de Maricourt. "In the evening of the day of occupation, the Archdeacon was brought to the HÔtel du Grand-Cerf, by the concierge Boullay. He was paraded before the officers, but was not mistreated, except that he was compelled to stand, and no one addressed him. Finally he was ordered to return to his quarters, but hardly had he arrived there, before another order came for him to return at once to the Grand-Cerf. Already towards the south end of the town the houses were in flames, and he saw the soldiers carrying lighted torches. He was brought before an officer who spoke French and whose manner was not discourteous:—

"'Monsieur,' said he, 'attend to me,'—and he read from a paper charges that the priest had allowed citizens to fire upon the entering German troops.

"'It is not true,' replied the Archdeacon, 'I was alone in the church, and the keys were in my pocket.'

"The officer read upon the face of the priest the evident sincerity of his words.

"'Poor priest! Poor town!' he said pityingly, 'I believe you, but I must obey orders.'

"'How so?'

"'Because I am ordered to treat Senlis as was Louvain; by to-morrow there will remain not one stone upon another.'

"M. Douvlent pleaded eloquently for his parishioners, whose innocence he vouched for. The officer seemed impressed.

"'You are a Catholic priest, but alas, war is cruel, and orders are not to be ignored. This town merits chastisement.'

"'Take me before the General,' urged the priest, 'I am your prisoner, and I have the right to plead the cause of my innocent parishioners.'

"'No, sir,' retorted the officer frowningly, 'nothing of the sort; do you not realize that you are in great danger?'

"'Danger?' ejaculated the priest, 'I fear no danger, I have made my sacrifice; I have faced it all this morning.'

"'Very well,' said the officer, somewhat more gently, 'but I think it will be best for you to return to your house. If necessary I will call you.'

"A short time after this conversation, I saw the priest, with the few who remained of his household, standing in the Square. I saw them again at about one in the morning; they were still standing in the Square beneath the lamp which shone upon their anxious faces. A dozen or so German soldiers stood about. Two sentries paced up and down, one at each crossing. No one returned to their houses. The curtain had risen upon the drama of Senlis....

"At the end of this day, Thursday, M. Odent (the mayor of Senlis), left the HÔtel de Grand-Cerf accompanied by an officer, and entering a covered automobile was driven rapidly away, followed by five cavalrymen.

"They stopped at a place called 'le Poteari,' situated between Senlis and Chamont; there they found six captives whom the Germans had taken at hazard on the route.

"One of these, named Delacroix, had been arrested in company with two workmen named Quentin and Reck, the latter a mason by trade, at the corner of the Rue de Bordeaux and la RÉpublique, at the moment when the firing was the hottest in that quarter. Reck had been hit in the jaw and in the arm. The German soldiers entering the town found him bleeding in the road and with the singular, the unexplainable attitude of the German, at one moment cruel to the last degree, at the next of lamblike gentleness, these soldiers conducted the wounded man Reck to the 'prefecture,' where his wounds were tenderly dressed by a German Major!

"Quentin and Delacroix were taken at Chamont with revolvers in their hands, together with a stranger who was visiting the house of his sister, and two others, Benoit Decrens, a domestic servant, and Boullet, a laborer.

"Up to eleven o'clock in the evening these unhappy captives were marched up and down the various streets and alleys of the village by their captors, until at length near the Bon Secours woods in a secluded spot, an officer ordered the mayor and the six captives to lie down on the grass. When this was done, he ordered the mayor, M. Odent, to rise and advance three paces.

"The soldiers presented arms.

"'You are the Mayor Odent?' called out the officer brusquely.

"'Yes.'

"'You have fired on our men?'

"'No.'

"'You have fired on our men,' insisted the ferocious voice, 'you are to be shot!'

"M. Odent handed his papers to Benoit and shook hands with his companions. He then clasped his hands in prayer, after which he stood with eyes calmly fixed upon the officer. The officer raised his hands, motioning to the soldiers.

"They shot the mayor with their revolvers....

"Afterwards, the officer made a little speech to the terrified men.

"'War is as sad for us as it is for you. It is France and your PoincarÉ that you must blame—they would have it. We Germans do not make war upon civilians, but those who fire upon us will be promptly shot.'

"These men were then used as guides by the officers, during their occupancy of the town. When no longer of use, they disappeared.

"There were others, too; I do not know how many. There was little Gabanel, the son of the butcher, a merry little chap, known throughout the neighborhood, he disappeared with his father's old white horse and the red, two-wheeled wagon. He was never heard of again... and there was the baker's boy Jaudin, whose mutilated body was found in a field at Villers-St. Frambourg.... There was the hunchback Cottreau, aged seventeen, a harmless cripple who was found hanging in the attic of an inn....

"Arthur Rigault, the stone cutter, ElisÉe Pommier, aged 67 years....

"Jean Barbier, wagon driver....

"Pierre Dewart, chauffeur.

"None of these can ever relate their terrible stories. We shall never know what happened to them."