distinctly the process of their searching for the precise range of the
Cathedral. Practically the whole of the damage is concentrated on
the line of the Cathedral.

But the Cathedral stands.

Its parvis is grass-grown; the hotels on the parvis are heavily
battered, and if they are not destroyed it is because the Cathedral
sheltered them; the Archbishop's palace lies in fragments; all
around is complete ruin. But the Cathedral stands, high above the
level of disaster, a unique target, and a target successfully defiant.
The outer roof is quite gone; much masonry is smashed; some of
the calcined statues have exactly the appearance of tortured human
flesh. But in its essence, and in its splendid outlines, the building
remains--apparently unconquerable. The towers are particularly
serene and impressive. The deterioration is, of course,
tremendously severe. Scores, if not hundreds, of statues, each of
which was a masterpiece, are spoilt; great quantities of carving are
defaced; quite half the glass is irremediably broken; the whole of
the interior non-structural decoration is destroyed. But the
massiveness of the Cathedral has withstood German shrapnel. The
place will never be the same again, or nearly the same.
Nevertheless, Rheims Cathedral triumphantly exists.

The Germans use it as a vent for their irritation. When things go
wrong for them at other parts of the front, they shell Rheims
Cathedral. It has absolutely no military interest, but it is beloved by
civilised mankind, and therefore is a means of offence. The French
tried to remove some of the glass, utilising an old scaffolding. At
once the German shells came. Nothing was to be saved that