* * * * *

For whatever Germany may do or say, the time is no longer when such crimes can be left unpunished. Notwithstanding the war and the triumphant power of the mailed fist, there still exists such a thing as public conscience and public opinion. Nothing can happen, in any part of the world, without awakening an echo in the hearts of men who apparently are not at all concerned in the matter. The Germans are too clever not to understand this, and the endless trouble which they take in order to monopolise the news in neutral countries and to encounter every accusation with some more or less insidious excuse is the best proof of this. When one of them declared that Raemaekers' cartoons had done more harm to Germany than an army corps, he knew perfectly well what he was talking about. Only they rely so blindly on their own intellectual power and they have such a poor opinion of the brains of other people that they believe in first doing whatever suits their plans and then justify their action afterwards. They divide the work between themselves: The soldier acts, the lawyer and the professor undertakes to explain what he has done. However black the first may become, there is plenty of whitewash ready to restore his innocence.

If the unexpected resistance of Belgium has infuriated the Germans to such an extent, it is not only because it wrecked their surprise attack on France, it is also because, even after the retreat of the army, they have been confronted by a series of men courageous enough and clever enough to stand their ground and to come between them and the uneducated mass of the population.

Since, for the sake of propaganda, they wanted to make a show of respecting international law, they were taken at their word; so that they were obliged either to give way or to put themselves openly in the wrong. When they tried to break their promise to the municipality of Brussels and to annihilate the liberties of the old Belgian communes, Mr. Max stood in their way, calm and smiling, with no other weapon than the law which they pretended to respect. Mr. Max was sent to a German fortress, but Germany had torn up another scrap of paper—and the civilised world knew it. When they wanted to establish extraordinary tribunals for matters which belonged only to local tribunals, Mr. Theodor and all the barristers of the country lodged protest after protest and fought their case step by step. Mr. Theodor was deported, but the German administration had blundered again—and the world knew it. When Baron von Bissing tried to infringe the privileges of the Church and to cow the Belgian priests into submission by forbidding them to read to their flock the patriotic letter of Cardinal Mercier, published on Christmas Day, 1914, he found himself opposed not only by a far cleverer man than himself, but by all the spiritual influence of one of the greatest priests in Europe. The letter was read, the Cardinal did not leave for Germany but for Rome, whence he came back to Malines, and, if anything, adopted a still firmer tone in his subsequent letters and speeches. Von Bissing was beaten—and the world knew it.

These are only a few striking examples among many. Since August, 1914, hundreds and hundreds of civilians have been imprisoned or deported; workmen, because they refused to work for the enemy; lawyers, because they refused to accept his law; bankers, because they would not let their money cross the frontier; professors, because they did not consent to propagate Kultur; journalists, because they objected to print Wolff's news; tradespeople, because they put their patriotism above their private interests; priests, because they did not worship the German god; women, because they did not admire German officers; children, because they did not play the German games. Meanwhile the firing parties did not remain idle. The world has heard with horror of the death of Miss Cavell; it has been shocked by the disproportion between her "crime" and her punishment, and by the hypocrisy displayed by the German administration during her trial. But, if England has lost one great martyr, Belgium has lost hundreds, who perished in the same way, sometimes for smaller offences, often for no offence at all. For the German judges are in a hurry, and they have no time to enquire too closely in such matters. The vengeance of a spy, the slightest suspicion of a policeman, sometimes even an anonymous letter, are enough to convince them of the guilt of the accused person. The healthy effect produced on the population by Dinant and Louvain must not be allowed to spend itself. Frightfulness must be kept up at any price. The reign of terror is the condition of the German regime.

* * * * *

To-day, in this most tragic hour of Belgian history, when so many leaders, so many patriots, have been imprisoned, deported or shot, after twenty-nine months of constant threats and persecutions, we might ask ourselves: Is Belgium at last cowed into submission?

Listen, then, to Belgium's voice, not to the voice of the refugees, not even to the voice of the King and his Government, but to the voice of these miserable "slaves" whom Germany is trying to starve into submission. Letters have been dropped from these cattle trucks rolling towards Germany or towards the French front. They all tell us of the unshakeable resolution of the men never to sign an agreement to go to Germany, and never to work for the enemy: "We will never work for the Germans and never put our name on paper" (onze naam on papier zetten)—"We will not work for them. Do the same when you are taken." (Faites de meme quand tu dois aller.) Two young men imprisoned in Ghent write to their father: "They will have to make us fast a long time before we consent to work for the King of Prussia." Another man who was stopped when attempting to escape writes: "They tell us here that the Germans will make us work even if we do not sign an engagement. It would be abominable. Take heart, the hour of deliverance will strike one day, after all." Another workman sends the following message to his employer: "We are here two thousand and three hundred men. They cannot annihilate us. It is not right that our fate should be better than that of our brothers who suffer and fight at the front. We cannot make a step without being threatened by the gun or the bayonet of our jailors. I am hungry ... but I will not work for them."

And as the slave raids reach one province after another from Flanders to Antwerp, from Hainant to Brabant, as the fatal list of deportees increases from 20,000 to 50,000, from 50,000 to 100,000, from 100,000 to 200,000, whilst the cries of women and children are heard in the streets, whilst the modern slaves tramp along the roads carrying a light bundle of clothes on their shoulders, from everywhere in Belgium the strongest protests are sent to the Governor General, by the communes which will not consent to give the names of the unemployed, by the magistrates who will not see the last guarantees of individual right trampled upon, by the Socialist syndicates which are defending the right of the workmen not to work against their own country, by the chiefs of industry who show clearly that the whole responsibility of the labour crisis rests on Germany alone, by the bishops of the Church, who refuse to admit that, after two thousand years of Christian teaching, a so-called Christian nation should fall so low as to revive, for her own benefit, the worst custom of Paganism.

The energy of these protests is wonderful if one considers the conditions in which they have been made. The town councillors of Tournai were asked to draw up a list of unemployed. They refused; as the Germans insisted, they passed the following resolution: "The municipal council decide to persevere in their negative attitude.... The city of Tournai is prepared to submit without resistance to all the exigencies authorized by the laws and customs of the war. Its sincerity cannot be doubted, as it has shown perfect composure and has avoided any act of hostility during a period of over two years ... But, at the same time, the municipal council could not furnish weapons against their own children, fully conscious that natural law and international law, which is derived from it, forbids them to do so." (October 20th, 1916). We possess also the German answer, signed by Major-General Hopfer. It is a necessary supplement to von Bissing's unctuous literature. Major-General Hopfer calls the resolution "an act of arrogance without precedent." According to him, "the state of affairs, clearly and simply, is this: the military authority commands, the municipality has to obey. If it fails to do so it will have to support the heavy consequences." A fine of 200,000 marks is exacted from the town for its refusal, besides 20,000 marks for every day of delay until the lists are completed.

The case of Tournai, like that of Antoing and a good many small towns, is typical. The officers commanding in these districts either disregard the "mot d'ordre" given in Brussels or do not think it worth their while to keep up the sinister comedy played in the large towns. Here "Kultur" throws off her mask and the brute appears. We know at least where we stand. The conflict is cleared of all false pretence and paltry excuses. The councillors of Tournai appeal to some law, divine or human, which forbids a brother to betray his brother. It is not without relief that we hear the genuine voice of Major Hopfer declaring that there is no other law than his good pleasure. That settles everything and puts the case of Belgium in a nut-shell. Men like him and the commander of the Antoing district—another Major, by the way—are invaluable. But they will never become Generals unless they mend their manners.

From the perusal of the Belgian protests and of all particulars received, two things appear clearly: First, in spite of all the official declarations, whether the raiders are able or not to get hold of the lists, there is no real discrimination between employed or unemployed. And, secondly, in many districts, unemployment has been deliberately created by the authorities in order to justify the deportations.

We cannot discover any method in the raids. In some places, all the able-bodied men from 17 to 50 are taken away; in others the priests, the town-clerks, the members of the "Comite de Secours," and the teachers are left at home; in others still a certain selection is made. But everywhere some men who were actually working at the time or even men who had never been out of work since the beginning of the German occupation have been obliged to go with the others. The proportions vary. In the small town of Gembloux, of a total of 750 inhabitants deported, there were only two unemployed. At Kersbeek-Miscom out of 94 deportees only two had been thrown out of work. At Rillaer, the Germans have taken 25 boys under 18 years of age.[6] In the district of Mons, from the numbers taken down in fourteen communes, we gather that the proportion of the unemployed varies between 10 and 15 per cent. of the total number of deportees.[7] Among the 400 men taken from Arlon (Luxembourg) were 43 members of the "Comite de Secours" who were working in connection with the Commission for Relief, so that not only the people supporting their families are being deported, but even those who employed themselves in alleviating the sufferings of the whole population. This practice has been repeated in several other towns, for instance, in Gembloux and Libramont.

Whether the people are ordered to present themselves at the town-hall or seized in their own homes, whether they are taken forthwith or allowed a few hours to prepare themselves, whether they are forced to sign an agreement or not, the same fact is evident: the criterion of employment is never considered as a sufficient cause for exemption.

In certain districts where, in spite of the requisitions, no unemployment existed, the authorities have manufactured it. Some of the new coal mines of the Limbourg province have been closed on the eve of the raids. The case of the Luxembourg province is still more typical. "We have not to enquire here," declare the senators and deputies of this province, "if unemployment has been caused in other regions by the disorganisation of transports, the seizure of raw stuffs and machines, the constant requisitions, and other measures which were bound to penalize the national industry. One fact remains incontestable; it is that, so far as the Luxembourg province is concerned, unemployment has been non-existent. During the worst periods, we have only had a small number of unemployed, and thanks to the initiative taken by the 'Comite de Secours' all, without any exception, have been at work without interruption." After enumerating a great number of works of public utility which had been approved by the German authorities, construction of light railways, drainage of extensive moors, creation of new plantations, water supplies, etc., ... the report goes on: "And to-day most of these works, which had been approved and subsidized by the province and by the State, have been suddenly condemned and interrupted.... Such official obstacles to the legitimate and useful activity of our workmen renders still more painful for them, if possible, the measures taken against them by those who reproach them for their idleness and who prosecute them to-day under the pretext of an inaction which they have deliberately created."

In the face of such testimony all the German argument crumbles to pieces. As Monseigneur Mercier puts it decisively: "It is not true that our workmen have caused any disturbance or even threatened anywhere to do so. Five million Belgians, hundreds of Americans, never cease to admire the perfect dignity and patience of our working classes. It is not true that the workmen, deprived of their work, become a charge on the occupying power or on public charity under its control. The 'Comite National,' in whose activity the Germans take no part, is the only organisation concerned in the matter." But even supposing, for the sake of argument, that the 43rd article of the Hague Convention should justify some form of coercion in the matter, the new measures should only be applied to some works of public utility in Belgium. Far from encouraging such works, the Germans have stopped them, seized employed and unemployed, and sent them either to Germany or to some war-work on the Western front. To put it simply, they wish to avoid public disturbance where there is no disturbance, to save money which is not their money, to deport unemployed who are not unemployed, to oblige them to work against their country instead of for their country, and in Germany instead of in Belgium. They are doing everything but what they want to do, they go anywhere but where they are going, and they say anything but what they are thinking.

[Footnote 6: Letter of Cardinal Mercier to Governor von Bissing, Nov. 29th, 1916.]

[Footnote 7: Reply of the Deputies of Mons to Governor von Bissing, Nov. 27th, 1916.]

* * * * *

The other day I heard two people—two wizened city clerks—discussing the war in the train. "When and how will the Germans be beaten?" asked the first. The other shrugged his shoulders and declared solemnly, while pulling at his pipe: "The Germans? They have been beaten a long time ago! They were beaten when they set foot for the first time in Belgium."

The remark is not new, and I daresay it was a reminiscence of some sentence picked up in a newspaper or at a popular meeting. But whoever uttered it for the first time was right. The case of Belgium has uplifted the whole moral atmosphere of the struggle. Since the first guns boomed around Liege and the first civilians were shot at Vise, a war which might have been represented, to a certain extent, as a conflict of interests, has become a conflict of principles. In a way, the Germans were beaten because, from that moment, they had to struggle against unseen and inflexible forces. Whatever you choose to call them—democratic instinct, Christian aspiration, or the conscience of the civilised world—they will do their work relentlessly, every day of the year, every hour of the day. It is their doing that, in spite of the immense financial influence and the most active propaganda, Germany has become unpopular all over the world. Other facts, like the Lusitania, the trial of Miss Cavell, the work accomplished by Zeppelins, have contributed to provoke this feeling. But whether we consider the origin or the last exploits of German policy, whether we think of two years ago or of to-day, the image of Belgium, of her invasion, of her martyrdom, of her oppression, of her deportations, dominates the spiritual aspect of the whole war.

When they crossed the Belgian frontier, the Germans walked straight into a bog, and since then they have been sucked deeper and deeper into the mud of their own misdeeds and calumnies. They were ankle-deep at Liege, waist-deep at Louvain, the bog rises even to their lips to-day. In the desperate efforts which they make to free themselves they inflict fresh and worse tortures on their victims. It is as if victory could only be reached through the country's willing sacrifice. But every cry which the Germans provoke in the Belgian prison is heard throughout the world, every tear shed there fills their bitter cup, every drop of blood they shed falls back on their own heads. The world looks on, and its burning pity, its ardent sympathy, brings warmth and comfort to the Belgian slave. There is still some light shining through the narrow window of the cell. And there is not a man worthy of the name who does not feel more resolute and more confident in final victory when he meets the haggard look of the martyred country and watches her pale, patient, and still smiling face pressed against the iron bars.



VI.

THE OLIVE BRANCH.

We may ask ourselves if it was by chance only or through some subtle calculation that the first slave-raids in Belgium were timed to take place on the eve of the Christmas season, when the angels proclaimed "good-will towards men," and when the German diplomats offered us the olive branch and the dove—peace at their own price. We may perhaps admit, now that the crisis is over, that for us Belgians at least the temptation was great, and if our repeated experience of the enemy had not shown us that he is most dangerous when he dons the humanitarian garb, we might have been duped by this remarkable piece of stage-management. There is every reason to believe that the deportations were part and parcel of the German peace manoeuvre. By increasing a hundredfold the "horrors of war" Germany provided a powerful argument to the pacifists all the world over: "Look at these miserable Belgians. Have they not suffered enough? Is it not time that an end should be put to their misery? Germany has declared that she is ready to evacuate the country. She might even give an indemnity. What other satisfaction can the Allies ask, considering the present situation on both the Eastern and Western fronts? If England really went to war to deliver Belgium, let her prove it now by stopping the struggle to spare her innocent citizens. It is all very well for those who are living comfortably at home to urge the continuance of the struggle. But can they take the responsibility of speaking on behalf of the population which has to submit to the enemy's rule and whose sufferings increase every day? ..."

We have all listened to that voice. The Belgians in exile more intensely perhaps than the other Allies. Belgium had nothing whatever to do with the origin of the quarrel. She had nothing to gain from its conclusion. She had been drawn unwillingly into the conflict. She has taken arms merely to defend her rights and territory. What should her answer be if Germany offered to restore them?

* * * * *

At the beginning of August last, a certain number of Socialist leaders, in occupied Belgium, succeeded in arranging a meeting, in spite of German regulations, and passed the following resolution, which they sent to the Minister Vandervelde, in London: "The Belgian working classes are decided to endure all sufferings rather than to accept a German peace, which could neither be lasting nor final. The Allies must not think that they must hasten the conclusion of the struggle for us. We are not asking for peace, and we take no responsibility for the Socialist manifestations made in neutral countries on our behalf. We ask those who want to help us not to let the idea that we long for peace influence their decisions. We pass this resolution in order to prevent the disastrous effect, which such an argument might produce."

The Belgium people has never departed from this attitude, and it is the plain duty of all those who are defending them, to conform, in the spirit and in the letter, to their heroic message. In the "Appeal" of the Belgian workers to the civilised world, sent during the worst period of the slave-raids, the idea of a truce is not even entertained. On the contrary, the workers declare that, "whatever their tortures may be, they will not have peace without the independence of their country and the triumph of justice." An eye-witness of the raids was telling me, a few days ago, that, on some occasions, the men in the slave trains are able to communicate with the people outside: "They shout, of course, 'Long live Belgium' and 'Long live King Albert,' but the most frequent cry, in which they seem to put their last ounce of strength, is: 'Do not sign,' which means: 'Do not sign an engagement to work in Germany, do not sign a compromise.'" And I have not the slightest doubt that, if they had heard of the German peace offers, they would still shout, "Do not sign, do not sign a German peace!"

We know what this attitude costs them. We know, from the report of those few men who have been sent back to Belgium from the Western front and from the German camps, the tortures to which the modern slaves are being subjected. These men were so ill, so worn out, that their family scarcely recognised them, and greeted them with tears, not with laughter. It was like a procession of ghosts coming back from hell. At Soltau, the prisoners are given only two pints of acorn soup and a mouldy piece of bread, every day. They are so famished that they creep at night to steal the potato parings which their German guards throw on to—the rubbish heap. They divide them amongst themselves and eat them raw to appease their hunger. After the first week of this regime, several men went mad. Others were isolated for a few days and given excellent food. "Will you sign now? If you do, you shall be kept on the same diet; if not... you go back to camp?" The great majority refused ... and were sent back. This is not an isolated report. All the accounts agree, even on the smallest details, and the deportees who have been able to write to their families tell the same story as those who, being henceforth useless, have been sent home to die.

* * * * *

It has always been the German policy to bully and to cajole almost at the same time. But the image of Germania offering, with her sweetest humanitarian smile, an olive-branch to the Allies whilst her executioners are starving thousands of Belgian slaves and clubbing them with their rifles, will stand in the memory of mankind as the climax of combined brutality and hypocrisy.

Should we wonder if the present has been refused? There is only one peace which matters, it is the peace of man with his own conscience, the peace of the soul with its God. We have it already, and even the roar of the German guns will not disturb it. It hovers over our trenches, over the sea, even over these terrible German camps where the best blood of a great people is being sucked by the vampires of War. And those who have fallen stricken on the battlefields, those who have succumbed to the slow tortures to which they were subjected, are resting now under its great wings. Should we dare to disturb their sleep? Should we dare to stain their glory?

It is not for Germany to offer peace. She has lost, it with her honour. It lies in some pool, at the corner of a wood, where the hooligan waits in ambush, or on the rubbish heap of the Soltau camp in which men—noble men—are made to seek their food like pigs. Germany cannot offer what is not hers to offer. The Allies cannot take what they have already. For there is only one peace, "the peace that passeth all understanding."

As for the German olive branch, how could we accept it? It is no longer green. There is a drop of blood on every leaf.

* * * * *

It is perfectly useless to try, as has been done in certain quarters, to distinguish between Belgium's attitude in the conflict and that of the Powers who are fighting for the restoration of her integrity. From the day when England, France and Russia answered King Albert's appeal, the unflinching policy of Belgium has been to act in perfect harmony with the Allies. How could it be otherwise? Their cause is her cause. Their victory will be her victory, and—if we should ever consider the possibility of defeat—their defeat would be her defeat. The Belgians who like myself, were in England during these fateful days of August, 1914, when the destiny of Europe hung in the balance, know perfectly well the decisive influence which the invasion of Belgium had on English public opinion at that time. Nothing can ever blur the clear outlines of the events as they passed before us under the implacable rays of that glorious summer sun.

The whole policy of Germany is determined by her first stroke in the war. That stroke was delivered against a small nation. The whole policy of England and of the Allies is determined by their first efforts in the struggle, and these efforts were made to protect a small nation against Germany's aggression. Never has the choice between right and wrong been made plainer in the whole history of the world.

THE END