a wonderful people, these Germans, in their stage management.
Of course this was precisely the thing that they desired that he
should feel. They had sent their shells at the right moment, the whole
performance had gone off like clockwork. Those poor blackened masses
of humanity in the house below were the cost that was represented in
the performance. And since there is much still left to burn in Verdun,
the Germans may repeat this thing whenever they desire.

But somewhere three or four miles from here, and between Verdun and
the Germans, are many thousands of Frenchmen, with guns and cannon,
and hearts of even finer metal. They cannot even know that Verdun is
being shelled or is burning, and if it burns to ultimate ashes it will
not affect them or their lines. This is the fallacy of all the talk of
the destruction of Verdun city and the desperate condition of its
defenders. The army left Verdun for the hills when the war began; the
people left when the present drive began in February. Even the dogs
and cats, which were seen by correspondents in earlier visits, have
been rescued and sent away. Verdun is dead, it is almost as dead as
are Arras and Ypres; but neither of these towns after a year and a
half bombardment has fallen.

The correspondent who was taken up on a hill by the Germans to see
Verdun burn, after it had been carefully set on fire by shell fire,
was discovered by French gunners and shelled. He went away taking with
him an impression of a doomed city. This picture was duly transmitted
to America. But two days later, when I visited the city, there was no
evidence of desperation, because there was no one left to be
desperate. Doubtless on occasion we shall have many more descriptions
of the destruction of this town, descriptions meant to impress
Americans or encourage Germans. The material for such fires is not
exhausted. The cathedral on the top of the hill is hardly shell-marked
at all, and it will make a famous display when it is fired as was
Rheims, as were the churches of Champagne and Artois. But there is
something novel in the thought of a city burned, not to make a Roman
or even German holiday, but burned to make the world believe that the
Battle of Verdun had been a German victory.

For two hours we wandered about the town exploring and estimating the
effect of heavy gunfire, for the Germans are too far from the city to
use anything but heavy guns effectively. The impressions of such a
visit are