Chapter II: Part 2

At the same time, an attack was made from the northeast by the German 9th corps. The fighting was even fiercer here, but the enemy managed to break through the defenses. During the fighting, the enemy schemed to capture the Belgian general. Could they take General Leman, they thought, the Belgian soldiers would not long hold out. Therefore, when the fight was fiercest, eight Uhlans, two officers, and six privates, mistaken for Englishmen because they were in English uniform, rode to the headquarters of General Leman and attempted to take him prisoner. But they were discovered and either killed or captured, after a hand-to-hand struggle in the headquarter's building with members of the Belgian staff aided by gendarmes. Heavy street fighting forced the Germans back of the defenses once more. Then, by a decisive counter-attack, the second attack of the enemy was repulsed.

That same night came a third attack from the southeast again, against Fort Evegnée, and also from the southwest against the two small forts, Chaudfontaine and Embourg.

It was a bright moonlight night. The Belgians on the southwest took advantage of it to work at strengthening their defenses. They needed no lights and used none, for they were in less danger of being seen by the enemy.

If the Germans should take this part of the city, it would be particularly valuable to them, for here were the great iron works, the railway depots, the electric lighting works, and the small-arms and gun factory. Besides, they could then without doubt easily march on through Belgium and, as the German commander planned, overrun France. France surely needed all the time which the brave Belgian soldiers could save for her, for it had never been thought that Germany would break through on that side. France, since her previous war with Germany, when she had lost the beautiful provinces of Alsace and Lorraine, had massed her garrisons on the eastern line. In fact, very few forts had been built on the Belgian side, since the two countries had always maintained friendly relationships with each other, and the neutrality of Belgium was guaranteed by the Powers. Now, if Germany could not be held back until the French soldiers could be brought up to the Belgian border, then Germany's plan of greed and tyranny would be successful, and all of Europe would be lost. To check the Germans here meant to save the rest of Europe.

The city of Liége lay in darkness, save for the light of the kindly moon. From among the crowd of buildings, the old citadel arose like a great shadow. The searchlights flashed fitfully from the forts, traveling across the enemy's position, while the men watched, half expecting that the enemy would advance in the darkness, as so many of Germany's black deeds were committed under cover of night. Over the country, to the east, lay the ruined buildings, the broken walls, and the dead from the fearful conflict of that day.

Half an hour before midnight, a storm of shot and shell broke upon the trenches. High explosive shells burst with brilliant flashes and loud uproar. The guns from the forts replied, and the city shook in the thundering shock.

Heavy forces of Germans advanced, made a rush for the ditches, but were pushed back. Just before daybreak, however, the 10th corps crept up silently and rushed forward in a mass. The searchlights were thrown upon them, and the guns of the Belgian regiments fired upon them. Only after a hard fight, lasting five long hours, did the Germans break and run.

But with all the heroism of the Belgian garrison, after four days and four nights of ceaseless fighting, the men were exhausted. They could not be relieved, while the Germans had many fresh troops in reserve. The Belgian gunners might be able to hold the forts, but they could not long hold the stretches of ground between. But by this time the Belgian staff realized this and ordered two of the generals to withdraw secretly with their forces while yet there was time. General Leman was left in charge of the remaining forces to continue the brave defense of the works. The Germans had brought up their heavy artillery. Sooner or later they would break through.

On August 6, the Germans cut their way through between the forts and entered the city. The forts held out for a time, still holding the enemy from crossing the rivers. Once they had nearly crossed the large bridge over the Meuse, but the Belgians blew it up, and time after time, as the pontoon-bridges of the Germans were thrown across, above and below Liége, the fire from the forts destroyed them.

Then, surrounded by enemies inside the city and outside, the garrison was forced to retire. In the latter part of August, all the forts of Liége were in the hands of the Germans. But Belgium had made a brave resistance; she had stood like Horatius at the bridge. She had kept the Germans back, and by so delaying them had saved Europe.

The defense of Liége was one of the most brilliant military achievements and one of the decisive events in world history.

Its brave leader, General Leman, did not see the close of the siege. He was wounded and captured when Fort Loncin, the large fort where he had taken his stand with his men, exploded under the terrific fire of the enemy. But from his prison, he sent the following letter to King Albert:

After a severe engagement fought on August 4, 5, and 6, I
considered that the forts of Liége could not play any other part
but that of stopping the advance of the enemy. I maintained the
military government in order to coördinate the defense as much
as possible and in order to exert a moral influence on the
garrison.

Your Majesty is aware that I was at the Fort of Loncin on August
6 at noon.

Your Majesty will learn with sorrow that the fort exploded
yesterday at 5:20 P.M., and that the greater part of the
garrison is buried under the ruins. If I have not died in this
catastrophe, it is owing to the fact that my work had removed me
from the stronghold. Whilst I was being suffocated by the gases
after the explosion of the powder, a German captain gave me a
drink. I was then made a prisoner and brought to Liége. I am
aware that this letter is lacking in sequence, but I am
physically shaken by the explosion of the Fort of Loncin. For
the honor of our armies I have refused to surrender the fortress
and the forts. May your Majesty deign to forgive me. In Germany,
where I am taken, my thoughts will be, as they have always been,
with Belgium and her King. I would willingly have given my life
better to serve them, but death has not been granted me.

GENERAL LEMAN.

THE DESTRUCTION OF LOUVAIN

More than one hundred years ago, Napoleon, the famous French general, started out to conquer the world, just as the Germans have been dreaming of doing. Napoleon had almost unbelievable success--carrying the banner of France into practically the whole of Europe. But into whatever provinces Napoleon went, though bent upon the subjugation of a world, he never allowed his army to wantonly lay waste and destroy. There was great attraction for him in the wonderful works of art which he found in many of the large cities. He ordered his men to seize these works secretly and to carry them back to Paris. There they were preserved. France indeed is now named the preserver of the arts.

Had the German officers done even this, their crime would not be so great to-day. The French not only saved art and property, but also tried to save the lives of non-combatants as often as possible.

One of the leading daily papers of Cologne, Germany, explained in its issue of February 10, 1915, why the German soldiers have committed deeds that will forever shame the German people in the minds of the rest of humanity. Like the invasion of Belgium, these deeds are not defended as _right_ or _just_ but as _necessary_ to help on the German advance to victory. The article read as follows:

We have adopted it as a principle that the wrong-doing of an
individual must be expiated by the entire community to which he
belongs. The village in which our troops are fired upon will be
burned. If the guilty one is not found, substitutes will be
chosen from the population at large, and will be executed under
martial law.... The innocent must suffer with the guilty, and,
if the latter are not caught, must receive punishment in their
place, not because a crime has been committed, but to prevent
the commission of a future crime. Every case in which a village
is burned down, or hostages are executed, or the inhabitants of
a village which has taken arms against our invading forces are
killed, is a warning to the inhabitants of the territory not yet
occupied. There can be no doubt that the destruction of Battice,
Herve, Louvain, and Dinant has served as warning. The
devastation and bloodshed of the opening days of the war have
prevented the larger Belgian cities from attempting any attacks
upon the weak forces with which it was necessary for us to hold
them.

The destruction of works of art and of the beautiful cathedrals built in the Middle Ages cannot be explained and defended in this way, but some other pitiable and often childish excuse is offered. The Germans always assume that others do as they would do in the same circumstances. They assumed England would not interfere, if the neutrality of Belgium was violated, for Germany would not have interfered, had she been in England's place. They assumed the French and English would use the towers of the cathedrals for observation posts, for Germany would have done so; and although they were promised by the Allied officers that the towers would not be so used and were informed by the bishops and priests that they were not so used, yet they proceeded to destroy the beautiful structures. Their own promises and statements in a similar case would have been of no value, and so they assumed the promises of others were valueless and that the priests had been compelled to lie about the matter, as the Germans would have forced them to do, if possible.

They also fired upon the cathedrals of Ypres, Soissons, Arras, and Rheims in retaliation, whenever the enemy bombarded the German lines near by. Destroying a cathedral was like killing pure and beautiful women and children. The Huns felt the Allies would let them advance rather than have it happen.

As the Germans were on their way to seize Antwerp, after they had taken the Belgian capital, they were driven out of Malines and turned upon Louvain. They were greatly irritated at the strong resistance which the Belgian army was making. They even feared that suddenly Belgium's allies would join her at Antwerp and invade Germany, upsetting the German plans entirely.

Therefore they sought to terrorize and subdue the country by a complete destruction of Louvain, one of the most ancient and historic towns in that section of Europe. Its buildings and monuments were of world-wide interest.

Repulsed and chased back to the outskirts of Louvain, the troops were ordered to destroy the town. The soldiers marched down the streets, singing and jeering, while the officers rode about in their military automobiles with an air of bravado, as they contemplated the deed they were about to do. They first attempted to anger the people, so as to have some pretext for the criminal deed they had determined upon. But the people, knowing the character of the Germans, showed remarkable restraint. They gave up all firearms, even old rifles and bows and arrows that were valuable historic relics. They housed and fed their enemies, paid them immense sums of money; and when the commander sent for two hundred and fifty mattresses, they even brought their own beds and cast them, with everything they could lay hands on, down into the market-place. They knew the penalty for refusal was the death of their respected burgomaster.

The people of Boston, at the time of the Revolution, refused to feed and house the British soldiers. But these people of Louvain submitted to much worse than that, hoping that the enemy would pass on and spare their lives and their homes.

But on Tuesday evening, August 25, as the people were sitting down to their evening meal, the soldiers suddenly rushed wildly through the streets, and furnished with bombs, set fire to all parts of the town. That night witnessed some of the most terrible deeds in all history. The town of 45,000 inhabitants was wiped out; many of the citizens were killed, and others were sent by train to an unknown destination. Besides the loss of life, there was lost to the world forever a great store of historic and artistic wealth.

But one principal building in all the town was left standing--the Hotel de Ville. This was purposely saved as a monument to German authority, when the whole country should be taken over and rebuilt as a German-Belgium!

This cowardly act of cruelty will always stand out as typical of German atrocity. Louvain was undefended and was already in the hands of the Germans. By this one deed perhaps more than any other, Germany showed to what depths of degradation she would stoop. By the destruction of Louvain, she put back civilization and culture for five hundred years, and her own good name was burned away from among the nations of the world. The Germans from that day were branded as the enemies of the human race. The world sprang with united sympathy to the side of little Belgium--so that for her the destruction of Louvain meant more than a glorious victory.

CARDINAL MERCIER

He is an old man, nearly seventy, with thin, grayish-white hair. He is very tall, as was Abraham Lincoln, nearly six feet and six inches. He is thin, with deep-set, jet-black eyes, and thin, almost bloodless lips.

He is a symbol of oppressed Belgium,--frail in body, lacking great physical strength, but standing tall and erect with flashing eyes; unconquerable because of his unconquerable soul.

The spirit of such men as he, and of such nations as his beloved Belgium, is well expressed in Henley's now famous "Invictus."

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud,
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

* * * * *

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate;
I am the captain of my soul.

Amidst all the horrible deeds committed by the Germans in Belgium, Cardinal Mercier has spoken the truth publicly and fearlessly. His unconquerable soul seems to have protected his frail body. He is one of the great heroes of brave, suffering Belgium--a hero who carries neither sword nor gun; but his courage might be envied by every soldier on the field of battle, and his judgment by every commander directing them.

The Germans seemed to fear him from the first. General von Bissing, who was the German Governor of invaded Belgium, wrote to Cardinal Mercier, after the Cardinal's Easter letter to the oppressed Belgians appeared, and called him to account, suggesting what might happen to him if he did not cease his attacks upon the Germans and German methods.

The Cardinal replied that he would never surrender his liberty of judgment and that, whenever the orders and laws of the Germans were in conflict with the laws of God, he would follow the latter and advise his people to do the same.

"We render unto Cæsar the things that are Cæsar's," he wrote, "for we pay you the silent dread of your strength, but we keep, sacred in our hearts and free from your orders, our ideas of right and wrong.

"It was not without careful thought that we denounced to the world the evils you have done to our brothers and sisters--frightful evils and horrible crimes, the tragic horror of which cold reason refuses to admit.

"But had we not done so, we should have felt ourselves unworthy of our high office.

"As a Belgian, we have heard the cries of sorrow of our people; as a patriot, we have sought to heal the wounds of our country; and as a bishop, we have denounced the crimes against innocent priests."

They deprived him of his automobile, with which he used to hasten to all parts of Belgium to assist and comfort sufferers from German tyranny and torture. They ordered him to remain in his residence.

As a part of his church duty, he wished to go to Brussels to celebrate high mass. He applied for a pass which would allow him to go by train or trolley. An excuse was invented for refusing it. Then the Cardinal sent word to the Commandant that he must go and that he would walk. Two hours afterward he left his residence on foot, accompanied by two or three priests, and started on his walk of fifteen or more miles to Brussels.

Men, women, and children, and priests from every part of the city crowded about him and followed him, till he reached the German sentries, who stopped the crowd and demanded where they were going.

The Cardinal showed his _Ausweiss_, an identification card which every Belgian must carry, and he was allowed to proceed with two priests for companions. The other priests demanded the right to go on, and a heated dispute arose between them and the sentries. One of the priests lost his temper and forgot himself so far that he began to beat one of the sentries with his umbrella. The other sentry called for help, and the crowd was soon dispersed. The angry priest was put under arrest and led off to the guardhouse.

The Cardinal had gone on but a short way when the uproar behind him caused him to stop and look back at what was happening. When he saw the priest led off by the soldiers, he and his companions turned back and followed the soldiers to the little guardhouse. He walked directly in, looking neither to the right nor the left, standing a head above the rest of the crowd. He fixed his piercing black eyes upon the eyes of the priest; then he beckoned him to come and turned and walked out, followed by the priest.

The soldiers made no attempt to stop them. They seemed to recognize an authority that they could not help obeying, even though they did not want to. The Cardinal accompanied by the three priests went on down the road and out of Malines towards Brussels. They walked about half way to the city and then took the trolleys.

In speaking of the Germans, the Cardinal is reported to have said, "They are so stupid, these Germans! Sometimes I feel that they are like silly, cruel children, and that I should do something to help them."

He loves America and the Americans and is grateful for all that the United States have done for his suffering people. He told one of his fellow-workers who had become discouraged, "If you follow a great Captain, as I do, you will never be discouraged."

In him martyred Belgium has found a voice heard round the world. He has never ceased to denounce the atrocious crimes of the German masters of his country and he has continually sought to comfort and cheer his unhappy people. He sees far, and so he sees clearly the power outside ourselves that finally brings to Right the victory over Might. His Pastoral Letter, Christmas, 1914, will never be forgotten nor will the words of cheer to his suffering people when he reminds them of the greatest truth of life, that only through sacrifice and suffering come the things best worth while. His statement in letters to the German Commandant of the facts concerning the deportation of Belgians into Germany, to work as virtual slaves, will forever form part of the records of history's blackest deeds.

This Pastoral Letter of Christmas, 1914, is in part as follows:

It was in Rome itself that I received the tidings--stroke after
stroke--of the destruction of the church of Louvain, of the
burning of the Library and of the scientific laboratories of our
great University and of the devastation of the city, and next of
the wholesale shooting of citizens, and tortures inflicted upon
women and children, and upon unarmed and undefended men. And
while I was still under the shock of these calamities, the
telegraph brought us news of the bombardment of our beautiful
metropolitan church, of the church of Notre Dame, of the
episcopal palace, and of a great part of our dear city of
Malines.

Afar, without means of communication with you, I was compelled
to lock my grief within my own afflicted heart, and to carry it,
with the thought of you, which never left me, to my God.

I needed courage and light, and sought them in such thoughts as
these. A disaster has come upon the world, and our beloved
little Belgium, a nation so faithful in the great mass of her
population to God, so upright in her patriotism, so noble in her
King and Government, is the first sufferer. She bleeds; her sons
are stricken down, within her fortresses, and upon her fields,
in defense of her rights and of her territory. Soon there will
not be one Belgian family not in mourning. Why all this sorrow,
my God? Lord, Lord, hast Thou forsaken us?

The truth is that no disaster on earth is as terrible as that
which our sins provoke.

I summon you to face what has befallen us, and to speak to you
simply and directly of what is your duty, and of what may be
your hope. That duty I shall express in two words: Patriotism
and Endurance.

PATRIOTISM

When, on my return from Rome, I went to Havre to greet our
Belgian, French, and English wounded; when, later at Malines, at
Louvain, at Antwerp, it was given to me to take the hands of
those brave men who carried a bullet in their flesh, a wound on
their forehead, because they had marched to the attack of the
enemy, or borne the shock of his onslaught, it was a word of
gratitude to them that rose to my lips. "O brave friends," I
said, "it was for us, it was for each one of us, it was for me,
that you risked your lives and are now in pain. I am moved to
tell you of my respect, of my thankfulness, to assure you that
the whole nation knows how much she is in debt to you."

For in truth our soldiers are our saviors.

A first time, at Liége, they saved France; a second time, in
Flanders, they halted the advance of the enemy upon Calais.
France and England know it; and Belgium stands before them both,
and before the entire world, as a nation of heroes. Never before
in my whole life did I feel so proud to be a Belgian as when, on
the platforms of French stations, and halting a while in Paris,
and visiting London, I was witness of the enthusiastic
admiration our allies feel for the heroism of our army. Our King
is, in the esteem of all, at the very summit of the moral scale;
he is doubtless the only man who does not recognize that fact,
as, simple as the simplest of his soldiers, he stands in the
trenches and puts new courage, by the calmness of his face, into
the hearts of those of whom he requires that they shall not
doubt of their country. The foremost duty of every Belgian
citizen at this hour is gratitude to the army.

If any man had rescued you from shipwreck or from a fire, you
would hold yourselves bound to him by a debt of everlasting
thankfulness. But it is not one man, it is two hundred and fifty
thousand men who fought, who suffered, who fell for you so that
you might be free, so that Belgium might keep her independence,
so that after battle, she might rise nobler, purer, more erect,
and more glorious than before.

Pray daily, my Brethren, for these two hundred and fifty
thousand, and for their leaders to victory; pray for our
brothers in arms; pray for the fallen; pray for those who are
still engaged; pray for the recruits who are making ready for
the fight to come.

Better than any other man, perhaps, do I know what our unhappy
country has undergone. Nor will any Belgian, I trust, doubt of
what I suffer in my soul, as a citizen and as a Bishop, in
sympathy with all this sorrow. These last four months have
seemed to me age-long. By thousands have our brave ones been
mown down; wives, mothers are weeping for those they shall not
see again; hearths are desolate; dire poverty spreads, anguish
increases. At Malines, at Antwerp, the people of two great
cities have been given over, the one for six hours, the other
for thirty-four hours of a continuous bombardment, to the throes
of death. I have passed through the greater part of the most
terribly devastated districts and the ruins I beheld, and the
ashes, were more dreadful than I, prepared by the saddest of
forebodings, could have imagined. Other parts which I have not
yet had time to visit have in like manner been laid waste.
Churches, schools, asylums, hospitals, convents in great
numbers, are in ruins. Entire villages have all but disappeared.
At Werchter-Wackerzeel, for instance, out of three hundred and
eighty homes, a hundred and thirty remain; at Tremeloo two
thirds of the village are overthrown; at Bueken out of a hundred
houses, twenty are standing; at Schaffen one hundred and
eighty-nine houses out of two hundred are destroyed--eleven
still stand. At Louvain the third part of the buildings are
down; one thousand and seventy-four dwellings have disappeared;
on the town land and in the suburbs, one thousand eight hundred
and twenty-three houses have been burnt.

In this dear city of Louvain, perpetually in my thoughts, the
magnificent church of St. Peter will never recover its former
splendor. The ancient college of St. Ives, the art-schools, the
consular and commercial schools of the University, the old
markets, our rich library with its collections, its unique and
unpublished manuscripts, its archives, its gallery of great
portraits of illustrious rectors, chancellors, professors,
dating from the time of its foundation, which preserved for
masters and students alike a noble tradition and were an
incitement in their studies--all this accumulation of
intellectual, of historic, and of artistic riches, the fruit of
the labors of five centuries--all is reduced to dust.

Thousands of Belgian citizens have in like manner been deported
to the prisons of Germany, to Münsterlagen, to Celle, to
Magdeburg. At Münsterlagen alone three thousand one hundred
civil prisoners were numbered. History will tell of the physical
and moral torments of their long martyrdom. Hundreds of innocent
men were shot. I possess no complete list, but I know that there
were ninety-one shot at Aerschot, and that there, under pain of
death, their fellow citizens were compelled to dig their graves.
In the Louvain group of communes one hundred and seventy-six
persons, men and women, old men and babies, rich and poor, in
health and sickness, were shot or burnt.

In my diocese alone I know that thirteen priests were put to
death. One of these, the parish priest of Gelrode, suffered, I
believe, a veritable martyrdom.

We can neither number our dead nor compute the measure of our
ruins. And what would it be if we turned our sad steps towards
Liége, Namur, Andenne, Dinant, Tamines, Charleroi, and
elsewhere?

And where lives were not taken, and where buildings were not
thrown down, what anguish unrevealed! Families, hitherto living
at ease, now in bitter want; all commerce at an end, all careers
ruined; industry at a standstill; thousands upon thousands of
workingmen without employment; working-women, shop-girls, humble
servant-girls without the means of earning their bread; and poor
souls forlorn on the bed of sickness and fever, crying, "O Lord,
how long, how long?"

How long, O Lord, they wondered, how long wilt Thou suffer the
pride of this iniquity? Or wilt Thou finally justify the impious
opinion that Thou carest no more for the work of Thy hands? A
shock from a thunderbolt, and behold all human foresight is set
at naught. Europe trembles upon the brink of destruction.

The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.

Many are the thoughts that throng the breast of man to-day, and
the chief of them all is this: God reveals Himself as the
Master. The nations that made the attack, and the nations that
are warring in self-defense, alike confess themselves to be in
the hand of Him without whom nothing is made, nothing is done.
Men long unaccustomed to prayer are turning again to God. Within
the army, within the civil world, in public, and within the
individual conscience, there is prayer. Nor is that prayer
to-day a word learnt by rote, uttered lightly by the lip; it
surges from the troubled heart, it takes the form, at the feet
of God, of the very sacrifice of life.

God will save Belgium, my Brethren, you cannot doubt it.

Nay, rather, He is saving her.

Across the smoke of conflagration, across the stream of blood,
have you not glimpses, do you not perceive signs, of His love
for us? Is there a patriot among us who does not know that
Belgium has grown great? Nay, which of us would have the heart
to cancel this last page of our national history? Which of us
does not exult in the brightness of the glory of this shattered
nation? Let us acknowledge that we needed a lesson in
patriotism. There were Belgians, and many such, who wasted their
time and their talents in futile quarrels of class with class,
of race with race, of passion with personal passion.

Yet when, on the second of August, a mighty foreign power,
confident in its own strength and defiant of the faith of
treaties, dared to threaten us in our independence, then did all
Belgians, without difference of party, or of condition, or of
origin, rise up as one man, [close-ranged] about their own king
and their own government, and cry to the invader: "Thou shalt
not pass!"

At once, instantly, we were conscious of our own patriotism. For
down within us all is something deeper than personal interests,
than personal kinships, than party feeling, and this is the need
and the will to devote ourselves to that more general interest
which Rome called the public thing, _Res publica_. And this
profound will within us is Patriotism.

Our country is not a mere gathering of persons or of families
dwelling on the same soil, having amongst themselves relations,
more or less intimate, of business, of neighborhood, of a
community of memories, happy or unhappy. Not so; it is an
association of living souls to be defended and safeguarded at
all costs, even the cost of blood, under the leadership of those
presiding over its fortunes. And it is because of this general
spirit that the people of a country live a common life in the
present, through the past, through the aspirations, the hopes,
the confidence in a life to come, which they share together.
Patriotism, an internal principle of order and of unity, an
organic bond of the members of a nation, was placed by the
finest thinkers of Greece and Rome at the head of the natural
virtues.

ENDURANCE

We may now say, my Brethren, without unworthy pride, that our
little Belgium has taken a foremost place in the esteem of
nations. I am aware that certain onlookers, notably in Italy and
in Holland, have asked how it could be necessary to expose this
country to so immense a loss of wealth and of life, and whether
a verbal manifesto against hostile aggression, or a single
cannon-shot on the frontier, would not have served the purpose
of protest. But assuredly all men of good feeling will be with
us in our rejection of these paltry counsels.

On the 19th of April, 1839, a treaty was signed in London, by
King Leopold, in the name of Belgium on the one part, and by the
Emperor of Austria, the King of France, the Queen of England,
the King of Prussia, and the Emperor of Russia on the other; and
its seventh article decreed that Belgium should form a separate
and perpetually neutral State, and should be held to the
observance of this neutrality in regard to all other States. The
signers promised, for themselves and their successors, upon
their oaths, to fulfill and to observe that treaty in every
point and every article. Belgium was thus bound in honor to
defend her own independence. She kept her oath. The other Powers
were bound to respect and to protect her neutrality. Germany
violated her oath; England kept hers.

These are the facts.

The laws of conscience are sovereign laws. We should have acted
unworthily had we evaded our obligation by a mere feint of
resistance. And now we would not change our first resolution; we
exult in it. Being called upon to write a most solemn page in
the history of our country, we resolved that it should be also a
sincere, also a glorious page. And as long as we are required to
give proof of endurance, so long we shall endure.

All classes of our citizens have devoted their sons to the
cause of their country; but the poorer part of the population
have set the noblest example, for they have suffered also
privation, cold, and famine. If I may judge of the general
feeling from what I have witnessed in the humbler quarters of
Malines, and in the most cruelly afflicted districts of my
diocese, the people are energetic in their endurance. They look
to be righted; they will not hear of surrender.

The sole lawful authority in Belgium is that of our King, of the
elected representatives of the nation. This authority alone has
a right to our affection, our submission.

Occupied provinces are not conquered provinces. Belgium is no
more a German province than Galicia is a Russian province.
Nevertheless the occupied portion of our country is in a
position it is compelled to endure. The greater part of our
towns, having surrendered to the enemy on conditions, are bound
to observe those conditions. From the outset of military
operations, the civil authorities of the country urged upon all
private persons the necessity of avoiding hostile acts against
the enemy's army. That instruction remains in force. It is our
army, and our army solely, in league with the brave troops of
our Allies, that has the honor and the duty of national defense.
Let us intrust the army with our final deliverance.

Towards the persons of those who are holding dominion among us
by military force, and who cannot but know of the energy with
which we have defended, and are still defending, our
independence, let us conduct ourselves with all needful
forbearance. Let us observe the rules they have laid upon us so
long as those rules do not violate our personal liberty, nor our
consciences, nor our duty to our country. Let us not take
bravado for courage, nor tumult for bravery.

Our distress has moved the other nations. England, Ireland, and
Scotland; France, Holland, the United States, Canada, have vied
with each other in generosity for our relief. It is a spectacle
at once most mournful and most noble. Here again is a revelation
of the Providential Wisdom which draws good from evil. In your
name, my Brethren, and in my own, I offer to the governments and
the nations that have succored us the assurance of our
admiration and our gratitude.

OZYMANDIAS

I met a traveler from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert.... Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.

AND THE COCK CREW[1]

"I hate them all!" said old Gaspard,
And in his weather-beaten face
The lines of bitterness grew hard,
For he had seen his dwelling-place
Laid waste in very wantonness,
And all his little treasures flung
Into that never-sated press
From which no wine, but gall, had sprung--
And not his heart alone was sore,
For in his frail old limbs he bore
Wounds of the heavy, ruthless hand
That weighed so cruelly of late
Upon the people and the land.
It was not hard to understand
Why old Gaspard should hate
Even the German lad who lay
His neighbor in the hospital,
The boy who pleaded night and day:
"Don't let me die! don't let me die!
When I see the dawn, I know
I shall live out that day, and then
I'm not afraid--till dark--but oh,
How soon the night comes round again!
Don't let me die! don't let me die!"

The old man muttered at each low,
Pitiful, half delirious cry,
"They should die, had I the say,
In hell's own torment, one and all!"
And then would drag himself away,
Despite each motion's agony,
To where the wounded poilus lay,
And cheer them with his mimicry
Of barnyard noises, and his gay
Old songs of what life used to be.
One night the lad suddenly cried,
"Mother!" And though the sister knew--
He was so young, so terrified,
"You're safe--the east is light," she lied.
But "No!" he sobbed, "the cock must crow
Before the dawn!" They did not hear
A cripple crawl across the floor,
But all at once, outside the door,
In the courtyard, shrill and clear,
Once, twice and thrice, chanticleer crew.
The blue eyes closed and the boy sighed,
"I'm not afraid, now day's begun.
I'll live--till--" With a smile, he died.

And in that hour when he denied
The god of hate, I think that One
Passed through the hospital's dim yard
And turning, looked on old Gaspard.

AMELIA JOSEPHINE BURR.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] COPYRIGHT BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY

A BELGIAN LAWYER'S APPEAL

One of the great lawyers of Belgium in behalf of the members of the bar of Brussels, Liége, Ghent, Charleroi, Mons, Louvain, and Antwerp, appeared twice before the German Court of Justice at Brussels and appealed for more just treatment of the Belgian people. In his first appeal, he protested against the illegal manner in which the Belgians were accused of crime, tried, and convicted at the pleasure of German officials. He concluded with the following eloquent words:

I can understand martial law for armies in the field. It is the
immediate reply to an aggression against the troops, the quick
justice of the commander of the army responsible for his
soldiers. But our armies are far away; we are no longer in the
zone of military operations. Nothing here threatens your troops,
the inhabitants are calm.

The people have taken up work again. You have bidden them do it.
Each one attends to his business--magistrates, judges, officials
of the provinces and cities, the clergy, all are at their posts,
united in one outburst of national interest and brotherhood.

However, this does not mean that they have forgotten. The
Belgian people lived happily in their corner of the earth,
confident in their dream of independence. They saw this dream
dispelled; they saw their country ruined and devastated; its
ancient hospitable soil has been sown with thousands of tombs
where our own sleep; the war has made tears flow which no hand
can dry. No, the murdered soul of Belgium will never forget.

His second appeal will be spoken by school children in Belgium, and perhaps in America, when the names of the German judges to whom he spoke are forgotten even in Germany.

We are not annexed. We are not conquered. We are not even
vanquished. Our army is fighting. Our colors float alongside
those of France, England, and Russia. The country subsists. She
is simply unfortunate. More than ever, then, we now owe
ourselves to her, body and soul. To defend her rights is also to
fight for her.

We are living hours now as tragic as any country has ever known.
All is destruction and ruin around us. Everywhere we see
mourning. Our army has lost half of its effective forces. Its
percentage in dead and wounded will never be reached by any of
the belligerents. There remains to us only a corner of ground
over there by the sea. The waters of the Yser flow through an
immense plain peopled by the dead. It is called the Belgian
Cemetery. There sleep our children by the thousands. There they
are sleeping their last sleep. The struggle goes on bitterly and
without mercy.

Your sons, Mr. President, are at the front; mine as well. For
months we have been living in anxiety regarding the morrow.

Why these sacrifices, why this sorrow? Belgium could have
avoided these disasters, saved her existence, her treasures, and
the lives of her children, but she preferred her honor.

EDITH CAVELL

Americans are particularly interested in the story of Edith Cavell, because the American minister in Brussels on behalf of the American people asked German officials to spare her life, or at least to postpone her execution, until he might have an opportunity to see that she was properly defended. Germany's disregard of America and the wishes of the American people was clearly shown by the scornful manner in which Germany set aside as of no importance American protests and requests. Her action in this case was similar to her action earlier in regard to the _Lusitania_, involving in both cases direct falsehoods by representatives of the German government.

Germans wondered that the shooting of an English woman for treason should cause a sensation, just as they wondered why even their enemies did not applaud them for murdering more than a thousand non-combatants on the _Lusitania_. They did not realize that both of these crimes would add thousands of volunteers to the armies fighting against them, and that they would always be recorded in history as among the most despicable deeds of a civilized nation. Some one has said, "Attila and his Huns were ignorant barbarians, but the modern Huns know better and therefore they are more to be condemned."

Edith Cavell was so brave, so frank, so honest that it would seem that even to the Germans her virtues would

plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against
The deep damnation of her taking-off.

But not so, for German education and training have evidently made the German people look upon almost everything in a way different from that of Americans, Englishmen, and Frenchmen. And yet the common German people do at times show that they have a feeling of admiration, if not of affection, for peoples of other nations; for we are told of a German city erecting a statue to the French and English soldiers who died as captives in the German prison located there, with the inscription, _To our Comrades, who here died for their Fatherland_.

But we must remember that there are many kingdoms in Germany and cruel Prussia rules them all. It was Prussian savagery and barbarity that approved the massacre by the Turks of almost an entire people, the Armenians, and it was done under the eyes of German officers. The same is true of the wholesale slaughter of non-combatant Serbian men, women, and children by the Bulgarians. A word from Germany would have stopped it all.

When the war broke out, Edith Cavell was living in England with her aged mother. She felt her duty was in Belgium and she went to Brussels and established a private hospital. An American woman, Mary Boyle O'Reilly of Boston, a daughter of the poet, John Boyle O'Reilly, worked with her for a time. When Miss O'Reilly was expelled from Belgium, she begged Miss Cavell to leave that land of horror, but Miss Cavell only said, "My duty is here."

She and her nurses cared for many a wounded German soldier and this alone should have insured her fair treatment, if not gratitude, from Germany.

She was arrested, kept in solitary confinement for ten weeks without any charge being made against her; then was tried secretly for having sheltered French and Belgian soldiers who were seeking to escape to Holland.

It is probably true that Miss Cavell did this, but the history of war in modern times records no case where any one has been put to death for giving shelter for a short time to a fugitive soldier. Such an act does not, according to the custom of civilized countries, make one a spy, nor is it treason.

Those who have investigated the case carefully have come to the conclusion that the Germans decided to make a terrible example of some of the women in Brussels who were sympathizing with and perhaps helping French and Belgian soldiers to escape to Holland, for about the same time twenty-two other women were arrested on the same charge as that finally made against Edith Cavell.

When Brand Whitlock, the American minister, learned from an outsider (he could get no information from the German officials) that Edith Cavell had been condemned, he sent the following letters, one a personal one, the other an official one, to the German commandant:

Personal:

MY DEAR BARON:

I am too ill to put my request before you in person, but once
more I appeal to the generosity of your heart. Stand by and save
from death this unfortunate woman. Have pity on her.

Your devoted friend,
BRAND WHITLOCK.

Official:

I have just heard that Miss Cavell, a British subject, and
consequently under the protection of my Legation, was this
morning condemned to death by court-martial.

If my information is correct, the sentence in the present case
is more severe than all the others that have been passed in
similar cases which have been tried by the same Court, and,
without going into the reasons for such a drastic sentence, I
feel that I have the right to appeal to your Excellency's
feelings of humanity and generosity in Miss Cavell's favor, and
to ask that the death penalty passed on Miss Cavell may be
commuted and that this unfortunate woman shall not be executed.

Miss Cavell is the head of the Brussels Surgical Institute. She
has spent her life in alleviating the sufferings of others, and
her school has turned out many nurses who have watched at the
bedside of the sick all the world over, in Germany as in
Belgium. At the beginning of the war Miss Cavell bestowed her
care as freely on the German soldiers as on others. Even in
default of all other reasons, her career as a servant of
humanity is such as to inspire the greatest sympathy and to call
for pardon. If the information in my possession is correct, Miss
Cavell, far from shielding herself, has, with commendable
straightforwardness, admitted the truth of all the charges
against her, and it is the very information which she herself
has furnished, which has aggravated the severity of the sentence
passed on her.

It is then with confidence, and in the hope of its favorable
reception, that I have the honor to present to your Excellency
my request for pardon on Miss Cavell's behalf.

BRAND WHITLOCK.

But no real attention was paid to the American notes. Edith Cavell was sentenced at five o'clock on the afternoon of October 11, and was put to death that same night.

Permission was refused to take her body for burial outside the prison. It is doubtless still buried in the prison yard unless the Germans have removed it for fear a monument may be erected above it. The English are to erect a monument in her honor in London. Dr. James M. Beck, in writing about her case, says of her burial in the prison yard, "One can say of that burial place, as Byron said of the prison cell of Chillon: 'Let none these marks efface, for they appeal from tyranny to God.'"

SON[2]

He hurried away, young heart of joy, under our Devon sky!
And I watched him go, my beautiful boy, and a weary woman was I.
For my hair is gray, and his was gold; he'd the best of his life
to live;
And I'd loved him so, and I'm old, I'm old; and he's all I had to
give.

Ah, yes, he was proud and swift and gay, but oh, how my eyes were
dim!
With the sun in his heart he went away, but he took the sun with
him.
For look! How the leaves are falling now, and the winter won't be
long....
Oh, boy, my boy with the sunny brow, and the lips of love and of
song!

How we used to sit at the day's sweet end, we two by the
fire-light's gleam,
And we'd drift to the Valley of Let's Pretend, on the beautiful
River of Dream.
Oh, dear little heart! All wealth untold would I gladly, gladly pay
Could I just for a moment closely hold that golden head to my gray.

For I gaze in the fire, and I'm seeing there a child, and he waves
to me;
And I run and I hold him up in the air, and he laughs and shouts
with glee;
A little bundle of love and mirth, crying: "Come, Mumsie dear!"
Ah, me! If he called from the ends of the earth I know that my
heart would hear.

* * * * *

Yet the thought comes thrilling through all my pain: how worthier
could he die?
Yea, a loss like that is a glorious gain, and pitiful proud am I.
For Peace must be bought with blood and tears, and the boys of our
hearts must pay;
And so in our joy of the after-years, let us bless them every day.

And though I know there's a hasty grave with a poor little cross
at its head,
And the gold of his youth he so gladly gave, yet to me he'll never
be dead.
And the sun in my Devon lane will be gay, and my boy will be with
me still,
So I'm finding the heart to smile and say: "Oh God, if it be
Thy Will!"

ROBERT W. SERVICE.

FOOTNOTES:

[2] COPYRIGHT BY BARSE AND HOPKINS.

THE CASE OF SERBIA

But Belgium is not the only little nation that has been attacked in this war, and I make no excuse for referring to the case of the other little nation--the case of Serbia. The history of Serbia is not unblotted. What history in the list of nations is unblotted? The first nation that is without sin, let her cast a stone at Serbia--a nation trained in a horrible school. But she won her freedom with her tenacious valor, and she has maintained it by the same courage. If any Serbians were mixed up in the assassination of the Grand Duke, they ought to be punished. Serbia admits that. The Serbian Government had nothing to do with it. Not even Austria claimed that. The Serbian Prime Minister is one of the most capable and honored men in Europe. Serbia was willing to punish any one of her subjects who had been proved to have any complicity in that assassination. What more could you expect?