Evening star., 1915-12-12
Arras, Bombarded Every Day
for a Year, Termed Corpse
of a City Awaiting Burial
BY RICHARD HARDING DAVIS.


Special Correspondent of The star In Europe.
ARRAS, November IL, 1915.-In north
ern France there are many buried
towns and villages. They are buried
in their own cellars. Arras is still un-
inferred. She is the corpse of city
that waits for burial, and day by day
/! the German shells are trying to dig
her grave. They were at it yesterday
when We visited Arras, and this morn
ing they will be hammering her again.
Seven centuries before this war Arras
was famous for her tapestries-so ia
nous that in England tapestries were
called Arras. Now she has given her
name to battle, to different battles
that began with the great lombard
ment of October year ago and each
DAY since then have continued. On
one single day, June 26, the Germans
threw into the city shells in all sizes,
from 3 to 16 inches, and to the
number of 10000. That was about one
for each house. This bomba ardInent
drove 200 Inhabitants into exile, of
which number 200 have now returned
The army feeds them. and in response
they have opened shops that the shells
have not already opened, and supply
the soldiers with tobacco, post cards,
fruit and vegetables from those gar
dens not hidden under bricks and ce-
ment. In the deserted city these civil
ians form an inconspicuous element.
see none of them. When they do ap-
pear in the empty streets they are like
ghosts. Every day the shells change
one or two of them into real ghosts.
But the others still stay on. With the
dogs nosing among the fallen bricks
and the pigeons on the ruins Of the ca
.hedral. they know no other home
As We entered Arras the silence fell
like sudden change of temperature
1t was actual and menacing. Every
corner seemed to threaten an ambush
Our voices echoed SO loudly that un-
consciously We spoke In lower tones
The tap of the captains walking stick
resounded like the blow Of a hammer
The emptiness and stiffness was like
that of a vast cemetery, and the grass
that has grown through the paving
stones deadened the sound of our steps.
This silence was broken only by the
barking Of the French seventy-fves in
parts of the city hidden to US, the boom
of the German guns in answer, and
from overhead by the aeroplanes. In
the absolute stiffness the whirl of their
engines came to US with the steady
vibrations of a loom.
Shell Holes Under Foot.
Under our feet were shell holes that
had been recently filled and covered
over with bricks and fresh earth. 1t
was like walking upon newly made
graves On either side were cellars
into which the houses had dumped
themselves. or, still balancing above
| them, were walls prettily papered.
hung with engravings, paintings. mir
roofiess and defenseIess against the
rain and snow. Other houses were like
those toy ones built for children, with
the front OPEN They showed a bed
L.
dies, books, a washstand with basin
and pitcher. piano, a reading lamp.
In one house four stories had been
torn away, leaving only the attic shell
tered by the peaked roof. To that
| height no one could climb. and ex-
posed to view was the collection Of
trunks and boxes familiar to all attics.
As a warning against rough handling,
one OF these, woman's hat box, had
been marked fragile" Secure and
serene. II smiled down sixty feet upon
the mass of iron and bricks 1t had
survived.
In other streets it was the front that
was intact but when our captain
Ing cellar. Nothing besides remained
or else we stepped upon creaky floors
that sagged, through foonls swept by
the iron brooms into vast dust heaps.
From these protruded wounded furni-
| ture; the leg of a table. the broken arm
OF chair, a headless statue From the
debris we picked the many little heir
| looms, souvenirs, possessions that
make home. Photographs with writ
ten Inscriptions, postcards bearing good
| wishes, ornaments for the center table,
ornaments for the person. images Of
the church. all crushed. broken and
stained Many shop windows were still
dressed invitingly as they were when
t|e shell burst, but beyond the goods
exposed for sale was only a deep hole
"Deviltry" Of the Shells.
The pure deviltry of a shell no ono
can explain Nor why II spares a
looking glass and wrecks a wall that
has been standing since the twelfth
century. 1t loves a shining mark. To
what Is most beautiful It ig most cruel.
The Hotel de Willie, which was counted
among the most presentable in the
north OF France, that once rose In
seven arches in the style Of the re-
nAissance. the shells marked for their
own. And all the houses approaching
y from the German side they destroyed
NOT even those who once lived in them
could say where they stood. There is
| left only mess of bricks. tiles and
plaster. They suggest the homes Of
human beings as little az does brick
yard