THE RUINED CITY OF YPRES

New Zealand Tablet, 22 July 1915, Page 15

THE RUINED CITY OF YPRES

V A most desolate picture is \ that * of ruined Ypres. What less than a year ago was;/ a thriving Flanders town renowned for its historic •associations is now but a. mass of bricks and mortar, untenanted save by the dead and one s or two miserable inhabitants who, buried in cellars-*' still cling to the remnants of their -homes. Over the whole city broods an atmosphere of death, while not a sound is to be heard in its shattered streets save the occasional click of a horse's hoof or the dull rumble of a passing Red Cross waggon. . From a cellar comes a bay—some forgotten dog—a note which only tends to augment the surrounding depression! Not one house has escaped the terrific rain of shell that the Germans have poured into the town during the past weeks. Through great holes torn in the walls can be seen the furnished rooms, just as they were left by the terrified inhabitants. In the ruined cafes, bottles and glasses still stand on the little marble tables, though the clientele have long since sought refuge elsewhere. Outside one house was a pathetic little group. An old man arid his aged wife had returned to collect what remained of their belongings, from the torn remnant of brick and plaster where they, had spent all their lives. With the help of a gendarme and a couple of porters they pulled tables and chairs through the jagged holes in the wall and piled them up on a cart. When they had finished their task they stood a while contemplating the wreck of their home, and then slowly the little party wended its way painfully through the piles of debris to the outskirts of the town: Many of the houses were locked and shuttered, but of others the doors stood agape or swung on their hinges with melancholy creaking. In rooms pianos stood with music open in front of them, while in the fireplace were the ashes of the dead "fire. Sitting in one of these desolated rooms one becomes oppressed by the almost unbroken silence that reigns. Making one's way with difficulty through the streets one reached the Grande Place, where the ruin is terrible. The road is blocked with wreckage from the shattered buildings, amid which can be seen twisted pieces of the sheils that wrought the damage. The Cathedral of St.*Martin presents a pitiful picture. The builder of the historic church, the first stones of which were laid in the eleventh century, would surely not recognise his work in its present guise. Most of the solid walls still remain, it is true, but the whole upper framework of the building is gone. Of the roof there is none, while through the shattered mass of delicate tracery that was once the square tower project the twisted ends of iron girders. In the graveyard around the Cathedral, tombstones have been torn up ; while deep in the pits caused by the shells can be seen the mouldering bones and broken coffins. A statue erected in honor of a former Belgian Miuistcr, a native of Ypres, has been toppled off its pedestal, but lies still intact on the grass. The main entrance to the Cathedral has been blocked up with wooden palings; but it is still possible to find an entrance. Within, all is peace; and on entering one is immediately conscious of that indefinable atmosphere that always clings to a church of the Middle Ages. Despite the fact that the marble pavement is hidden under a mass of debris fallen from the roof and figures of saints having been torn from their niches iiV the walls, the air of sanctity remains; and man unconsciously bares his head. Through the roofless nave the blue sky of a coudless summer day can be seen, and in and out of the windows, from which every particle of glass has gone, fly numerous birds. A couple of areoplanes passed high overhead as I watched ; while the dull booming of the guns sounded constantly. One shell passed right over the Cathedral, its whistling moan being succeeded an instant later by the roar of its bursting. On the battered walls still hung one or two sacred banners : and over the high altar stone the figure of St. Martin, with his torn cloak over his shoulder, was still untouched. The organ also is but

little damaged, though the steps leading -up to the organ loft are tumbled, splintered beams. 'ln the sacristy are assembled all the precious vessels, candelabra; and pictures. : By some strange chance, they appear almost untouched, though the floor is thickly - coated with yellow dust from the German high-explosive shell. \ In the cupboards still -hang the priestly "vestments. On the floor lies the shattered statue of •an angel, the trumpet still fast in its mouth. Through the halfopened drawers can be caught a glimpse of broken vases and crushed candlesticks. Over a chair are hung the cassocks of the vergersblue, with brass buttons, but now blotched with the all-pervading yellow.. ' A Pathetic Figure. Amid the confusion stood an old Carmelite friar, his grey hair surmounted by a skull cap. He was only too willing to speak, and explained that every day some of his brethren came and took away part of the treasures of the Cathedral. lie formed a striking picture, standing there amid the ruins of God's House, true to his duty and his faith. I asked him whether he understood the danger he ran in thus coming into Ypres, which is shelled regularly every day by the Germans. In answer he simply shrugged his shoulders. It was good to emerge into the sunshine out of the shadows of that wrecked edifice. The silence of the place was almost unbearable. No words can convey a true impression of the appearance of Ypres to-day. Notwithstanding its torn and battered houses, its'disrupted streets and shattered buildings, it maintains an air of supreme dignity, as if defying the German to do his worst. In this way it is typical of the character of the Belgian nation, which withstood, and still withstands with such magnificent endurance, the might of the German Empire. ?