Clearly the effect of the abandonment was a belief that the French were already, to all intents, beaten. In the Berlin papers there appeared glowing accounts of the triumph. Conversely, at all events in England among those who did not know, the French evacuation came as a shock. This was all part of the foreseen result. It not only heightened the confidence of the German armies, but it had no small influence on that fatal change of plan on their part which we may now say was decided upon at this very time. General Joffre purposely misled the enemy, both as to the power at his command, and as to his disposition of that power.
Thus it was that the Germans, unopposed, made their triumphal entry. They swept through the famous Gate of Mars, the triumphal arch built by the then townsmen of Rheims in honour of Julius Cæsar and Augustus and to mark the completion of the scheme of military roads by Agrippa. They parked their cannon along the noble Public Promenade which stretches beyond this great monument. In the square before the Cathedral, about which at that time German war correspondents went into ecstasies of admiration, the statue of Joan of Arc was ringed by stacks of German lances. Ranks of men in pickelhauben, headed by bands playing "Deutschland über Alles," were in movement along the great Boulevard Victor Hugo. The very name now seemed a mockery. Rheims appeared helpless. Taking possession of the town hall, the invaders seized the Mayor, Dr. Langlet, and compelled him to remain up all through the succeeding night issuing the orders which they dictated at the muzzle of a revolver.[29] Nearly one hundred of the leading citizens found themselves placed under arrest as hostages. This was alleged to be a guarantee for the preservation of order. As a fact, it was intended to assist collection, both of the heavy "fine" imposed on the city, and of the extortionate requisitions demanded in kind. With the stocks of champagne contained in the labyrinth of vast cellars hollowed out beneath Rheims in the chalk rock, the German officers made themselves unrestrainedly free. The occupation degenerated into an orgie. Much wine that could not be consumed was, on the advance being resumed, taken to the front, loaded on ambulance wagons.[30] It is alleged that nearly 2,000,000 bottles of wine were either consumed, plundered, or wasted.
Every house, too, had its complement of soldiers billeted on the occupants. When they marched south to the Marne, the Germans had been refreshed with unwonted good cheer and by rest in comfortable beds.
But three days later there began to come in, both by road and by railway, convoys of wounded, and these swelled in number day by day, until every hotel and many houses had been filled with human wrecks of battle. The Cathedral, its floor strewn with straw, was turned into a great hospital. All this, however, was but a presage. Rarely has there been in so brief a time a contrast more startling than that between the outward march of the German troops and their return.
Just ten days had gone by when Rheims witnessed the influx of haggard, hungry, and dog-tired men; many bare-headed or bootless; not a few wearing uniforms which were in rags; numbers injured. The bands had ceased to play. Instead of the steady march and the imperious word of command, there was the tramp of a sullen, beaten, and battered army; a tramp mingled with shouts and curses of exasperation; and the rumble of guns dragged by exhausted horses, mercilessly lashed in order to get the last ounce of pace out of them. All day, on September 12, the tide of defeat rolled into Rheims from the south, and surged out of it by the north; but above the clash and confusion was borne the boom of cannon, growing steadily louder and nearer.
Knowing that the population of Rheims had been driven to exasperation, the Germans feared they might be entrapped in the city by street fighting. An evidence of their panic is found in the proclamation which, on the morning of September 12, they compelled the Mayor to issue. The document speaks for itself. It ran:—
In the event of an action being fought either to-day or in the immediate future in the neighbourhood of Rheims, or in the city itself, the inhabitants are warned that they must remain absolutely calm and must in no way try to take part in the fighting. They must not attempt to attack either isolated soldiers or detachments of the German army. The erection of barricades, the taking up of paving stones in the streets in a way to hinder the movements of troops, or, in a word, any action that may embarrass the German army, is formally forbidden.
With a view to securing adequately the safety of the troops and to instil calm into the population of Rheims, the persons named below have been seized as hostages by the Commander-in-Chief of the German Army. These hostages will be hanged at the slightest attempt at disorder. Also, the city will be totally or partly burnt and the inhabitants will be hanged for any infraction of the above.
By order of the German Authorities.
The Mayor (Dr. Langlet).
Rheims, Sept. 12, 1914.
Then followed the names of 81 of the principal inhabitants, with their addresses, including four priests, the list ending with the words, "and some others."
There was good reason for this German panic. These troops of the army of von Bülow had been completely defeated. Of that no better evidence can be offered than a letter found on a soldier of the 74th German Regiment of infantry, part of the 10th army corps. The letter is of vivid human interest.
My Dear Wife,—I have just been living through days that defy imagination. I should never have thought that men could stand it. Not a second has passed but my life has been in danger, and yet not a hair of my head has been hurt. It was horrible, it was ghastly. But I have been saved for you and for our happiness, and I take heart again, although I am still terribly unnerved. God grant that I may see you again soon, and that this horror may soon be over. None of us can do any more; human strength is at an end.
I will try to tell you about it.
On Sept. 5 the enemy were reported to be taking up a position near St. Prix (north-east of Paris). The 10th corps, which had made an astonishingly rapid advance, of course attacked on the Sunday.
Steep slopes led up to heights which were held in considerable force. With our weak detachments of the 74th and 91st Regiments we reached the crest and came under a terrible artillery fire that mowed us down. However, we entered St. Prix. Hardly had we done so than we were met with shell fire and a violent fusillade from the enemy's infantry. Our colonel was badly wounded—he is the third we have had. Fourteen men were killed round me.... We got away in a lull without being hit.
The 7th, 8th, and 9th of Sept, we were constantly under shell and shrapnel fire, and suffered terrible losses. I was in a house which was hit several times. The fear of a death of agony which is in every man's heart, and naturally so, is a terrible feeling.
How often I thought of you, my darling, and what I suffered in that terrifying battle, which extended along a front of many miles near Montmirail, you cannot possibly imagine. Our heavy artillery was being used for the siege of Maubeuge; we wanted it badly, as the enemy had theirs in force, and kept up a furious bombardment. For four days I was under artillery fire; it is like hell, but a thousand times worse.
On the night of the 9th the order was given to retreat, as it would have been madness to attempt to hold our position with our few men, and we should have risked a terrible defeat the next day. The first and third armies had not been able to attack with us, as we had advanced too rapidly. Our moral was absolutely broken.
In spite of unheard-of sacrifices we had achieved nothing. I cannot understand how our army, after fighting three great battles and being terribly weakened, was sent against a position which the enemy had prepared for three weeks, but naturally I know nothing of the intentions of our chiefs.... They say nothing has been lost. In a word, we retired towards Cormontreuil and Rheims by forced marches by day and night.
We hear that three armies are going to get into line, entrench, rest, and then start afresh our victorious march on Paris. It was not a defeat, but only a strategic retreat. I have confidence in our chiefs that everything will be successful. Our first battalion, which has fought with unparalleled bravery, is reduced from 1,200 to 194 men. These numbers speak for themselves....