The Bombardment of Reims — Background and Themes

A Siege Measured in Shells and Silences

Ferree's chronology, which occupies the bulk of the text, reduces the bombardment to a stark numerical rhythm: '6:30 to 7:30 A. M., 36 shells; renewed 11 to 11:30 A. M., 67 shells.' Days are marked by shell counts, 'Taube' (German aircraft) sightings, or the terse entry 'Nothing to note.' The recurrence of 'Calm' or 'Complete calm' underscores the precariousness of life under siege—these respites were never guaranteed. For instance, December 1916 includes seven consecutive days of calm from the 21st to the 23rd, followed by a 'Cannonade in afternoon' on the 24th. The cumulative effect is a relentless drumbeat of violence, punctuated by the occasional 'Kaiser's birthday' salvo of 77 shells.

The Cathedral as a Witness

Ferree frames the cathedral not merely as a building but as a sentient victim of the war. He writes of its 'long continued passion' arousing 'the feeling of an intense personal loss' among those who knew it. The frontispiece shows the west front before destruction, while later illustrations depict 'The Cathedral after the Bombardment of April, 1917: The Apse and South Transept.' Ferree asserts that 'no other episode of the Great War has accomplished such complete destruction of so great a work of art,' and that its 'blackened walls and broken statues' stand as a permanent indictment. This personification of the cathedral as a suffering entity recurs throughout the editorial framing.

The Limits of a Remote Observer

Ferree is candid about his limitations: 'For an American, remote from the seat of war, to attempt a survey of the bombardment of Reims is a hazardous task.' He admits that the 'meagre details' he presents are not fully known even in France. His sources are official bulletins, which he says 'give so small space to it that they have been entirely neglected,' and local Reims papers that 'have complained of the silence of the Paris papers.' This self-awareness about the gaps in his account—the 'calm' days that could erupt at any hour, the reliance on secondhand reports—gives the work a documentary humility, even as it seeks to compile a definitive record.

Ferree's book is best approached as a primary source document rather than a narrative history. The chronology, with its repetitive entries of shell counts and 'Nothing to note,' conveys the grinding reality of a siege better than any prose could. Readers should note that the text was published in 1917, before the war ended, so it offers an incomplete picture. The accompanying sections on Reims's buildings and their destruction provide architectural context, but the heart of the work is the daily ledger of violence—a record that speaks for itself.

Reading the methodical shelling timeline of Reims brought me back to a quiet afternoon, oddly, not the cathedral but my grandfather’s war diary, its pages worn thin. He never spoke of it. For some reason, I thought of the collective endurance in Soldiers of the Legion, Trench-Etched — Inside the Classic, which once made me feel that same solemn patience in the face of relentless noise.