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King Albert's Book 5/6 • Tribute
3 years ago
By SIR NORMAN LOCKYER
MEN of science have been accustomed to look upon German methods in
education and applied science as worthy of imitation, and in my address as
President of the British Association in 1903 I pointed out the serious danger
we were running in allowing them to outstrip us in these directions. But
we now know that their guiding spirit was not the advance of civilisation
but the provision of means for the destruction of all who opposed the
inordinate ambition of the ruling class for world power.
The story of the bravery which King Albert and his nation have shown in
sacrificing everything rather than honour will be handed down from
generation to generation, a monument to a great people.
The present is one of misery and sufïering beyond all precedent, brought
about by unexampled brutality in waging war by means of destruction,
rapine, cruelty, and lies rather than by the best generalship and fighting
power. But a time will soon come when Belgium will rise like a Phoenix
from its ashes and she may console herself with the thought that even in
the distant future it will be recognised that the history of the world has been
ennobled by her deeds and her determination to defend her honour. Her
efforts will be chronicled as a brilliant chapter in the annals of the human race.
By SIR FREDERICK TREVES
With grave
Aspect he rose, and in his rising seemed
A pillar of state; deep on his front engraven
Deliberation sat, and public care;
And princely counsel in his face yet shone
Majestic though in ruin.—Paradise Lost.
By ANTONIO MACIEIRA
And you will judge which is the better:
To be King of the world, or King of such a people.
Luiz DE Camoëns, Lusiad, Canto I, 1. lo.
"Barbarism multiplied by science," as M. Boutroux
has defined German action with scientific precision,
has brought the pains of death upon the great people
of a little nation. This "civilised barbarism,"
repudiating a solemn treaty, has proceeded to kill,
burn, and massacre, after a vain attempt to suborn
an industrious people, wholly absorbed in progress,
cherishing no external ambitions, giving no pretext
for hatred, and hating no one—a people who had
never given the least justification for the savage
onslaught of deified Imperialism.
Nothing sufficed to avert this—neither the duties of
humanity, nor pure pity, nor artistic sentiment—in
other words: equity, liberal aspirations, the tears of
innocence, beauty itself!
From the dire tragedy that has so deeply wounded all
souls capable of pity, we may learn the most admirable
lesson of untarnished honour that any people could
have given; to listen to the lesson is to have one's
heart torn by pain, to think of it is to feel one's spirit
uplifted to the most intense, the most effective, and
the most grateful of admirations.
Great is Belgium, both in peace and war! Heroic
nation, which has arrested the thunderbolt aimed at
the life of France—our common life—and foiled the
attempt to baffle the protecting effort of England,
worthy collaborator in the defence of that common
life! Nation groaning and travailing, the shrine of
supreme suffering brought about by supreme injustice!
Blessed be this glorious country by those who love
liberty, desiring it for all, by those who worship the
beauty of ideas and of form with the art-inspired
passion of simple souls!
The Belgian nation is the prototype of Pain glorified.
German Imperialism has not conquered Belgium, for
triumphs cannot be achieved over a people's pain;
a nation grows stronger by suffering.
Wherever the brave King of the Belgians is, there is
Belgium; wherever we find that noble Queen who
has wandered over the territory of her kingdom,
always close to the souls of its heroic defenders, there
is Belgium.
And if in war Belgium seems morally more beloved,
more respected, and mightier, with her devastated
fields, her ruined monuments, and her homeless people,
in the peace that will come before long, she will remain
the model for all nations who fight for their honour,
for their own defence, and that of the great causes of
humanity.
Citizen of a glorious land, who loves his country as
his own flesh and blood! Republican in heart and
mind! 'This homage I pay with deep emotion to
the brave representative of a brave people is one with
the homage which the Portuguese nation offers him
in lietter terms—will offer him shortly, I hope, in
terms of action!
By GEORGE H. PERLEY (representing the Canadian Government in London)
ALL honour to the boundless courage of the Belgians and their brave King!
They have given to the world the most splendid example of a small country
fighting against enormous odds in defence of its soil and for the principles
of freedom and liberty. We can never repay them for their tremendous
sacrifices, but it is our duty to drive the enemy from Belgium as quickly
as possible and to punish him for his ruthless slaughter and wanton
destruction.
By WILLIAM CANTON
IT has now been for months, it will be for centuries, one of the glorious
things of history, that in this world-war it was one little nation, which had
no ambition to serve, which had much to lose, but which was intrepid and
unbribable that flung itself across the first rush of a great empire, and held
it in check single-handed. It was overborne by the weight of brute millions;
its storied cities, its prosperous villages, its fruitful fields were looted,
drenched with blood, ruined by fire; yet it fought on alone, with unshaken
faith; it was never defeated. Its very reverses were material and moral
triumphs; the success of its amazing courage and tenacity is visible today
in the gigantic battle-front of the Allies from the sea to the Vosges.
Every drop of blood that Belgium has shed has been a testimony to the
heavenly Powers; a vindication of the world's ideals of liberty, justice,
mercy, honour, chivalry; an appeal to the conscience of Christendom.
Yes, and every outrage of the drunken and unclean hordes of Berlin has been
a cry to Heaven for vengeance. Our material debt to Belgium is enormous;
our moral debt is beyond calculation. And these are not our debts only,
but the debts of the world.
The heroisms of old days rise before me—Leonidas at Thermopylae, our
own Byrhtnoth holding Blackwater ford below Maldon, the Swiss peasants
with their boulders and tree-trunks at Morgarten. They are dim shadows
beside this little people, whose women and children are heroic. I see their
King in the trenches, sharing the dangers and hardships of his comrades
in arms, inspiring them with the cheerfulness of an indomitable soul. And
I see another king, frantically fussing from front to front under the pro-
tection of the Red Cross, and sleeping at night, when he can sleep, in a
huge iron cage encircled by a swarm of Uhlans and a guard of airmen.
His iron cage! The words evoke another memory. Out of the far past
I hear the voice of a greater Kaiser, scared by a dream of the night:
Behold, a watcher and an holy one came down from heaven; he cried
aloud, and said thus, Hew dozwn the tree, and cut off his branches; shake
off his leaves, and scatter his fruit: let the beasts get away from under it,
and the fowls from his branches:
Nevertheless leave the stump of his roots in the earth, even with a band of
iron and brass, in the tender grass of the field; and let it be wet with the dew
of Heaven, and let his portion be with the beasts in the grass of the earth:
Let his heart be changed from mans, and let a beast's heart be given
unto him; and let seven times pass over him.
The same watchers and holy ones still look out of the clouds. Surely
no man, whatever his love of peace and horror of war, can consent to
any end of this unprovoked and barbarous aggression but "a fight to the
finish"; and when the tribunal of the nations sits in judgment, to any
plea of mistaken pity or of high policy, of diplomatic expediency, or of
kinship to stay the hand of justice and retribution.
What shall be said of this sorrowful nation eating the bread of the exile?
What need there be said? The "tears of these things" grip the heart of
two hemispheres. These houseless men and women and children are in a
bitterly literal sense our blood-brothers and blood-sisters and little ones.
They are the kinsfolk of all right-minded and true-hearted people. All the
material help they need will be given gladly and gratefully. But they need
more—the uplifting of the heart by admiration, by honour, by the cheering
strength of personal affection.
A new spring will come to the ravaged land; new cities and villages will
replace the old. Lament not overmuch the great and beautiful art that
has vanished—it lives everlasting in the heavens and in the memoiy of men.
And the dead — weep for them, but with a proud joy that they died for all
that makes life worth living.
O King, O people, the sound of a great bell is ringing over your land—a
mightier bell even than "Roland"; it is the bell of eternal justice and
right, crying that there is "Victory in the land."
By MRS. W. K. CLIFFORD
To His Majesty King Albert
GREATLY daring I venture to address you, while I bow my head, as all
the world does. Sir, to you and to your crucified country—crucified, as
Christ was, to save others. You are bereft of the temporary deckings of
your Kingship, and your people of all they possessed; and yet so much has
come to you and them, though it is obscured now by the wreckage of
many homes, the vanishing of many lives, by all the calamities that a cruel
dishonourable enemy could bring.
For a splendid immortality is yours—even here in this mortal world—and
none can take it from you. Your enemy came in shining armour that is
for ever blackened with crime and stained with blood; but your armour
none can hurt nor time disfigure: it is woven of Truth and Honour, of
Courage and Endurance, and through the centuries it will shine to those
who sit in darkness, to those who doubt or hesitate. You have made the
whole world better because of all that you have put into it. And for thought
of you, and your people, many will become great, and brave deeds will be
done; and thousands whose courage would fail will take heart, feeling that
they must be worthy of a world in which you lived, that as you kept faith so
in turn will they; and whether their swords be strong or weak they will fight
and endure, as you have done, without flinching. Do you realise it all, Sir,
the divine example you have set us; does it help you a little, does it comfort
you, to know that our hearts go out to you as we reverently bow our heads,
to you and your Queen, to your soldiers and your dead?
By HJALMAR BARNTING
My personal homage to Belgium means so little.
Therefore I will speak about my people.
Sweden was predestined to look upon the world-
crisis with German eyes. The Germans are our
kinsmen. To them goes the closest network of our
communications, the strongest influence on Swedish
culture has come from Germany. Our upper classes
admire the German orderliness, sense of duty, the
discipline of the subordinate classes among the people
and the enormous materialgrowthh of the country.
Our labour movement grew as a German plant
before it took root in and was reshaped for
the Swedish soil. And when the Swedish workers
fought their great defensive battle in the general
strike of 1909, their German brethren gave them a
powerful support. Naturally enough Sweden was
ready to listen to the first German proclamation:
"Tsarism is the peace disturber, the danger of all Europe."
We Swedes had had the opportunity
to see how the confirmed self-government of Fin-
land had been destroyed, we had seen how troop
concentrations in that country had been increased,
while our own had been subjected to a system of
intrusive Russian espionage.
But then came the crime against International Law,
the violation of Belgium's neutrality. For us, we
who intend to defend to the very utmost our neutrality,
it was like a thrust directed against our own heart.
It changed altogether the feelings among the broad
ranks of our nation. Even in the most Germanophile
part of the newspaper press it seemed as if the voices
had lost their note of self-confidence. The more ruth-
less the methods became, the more the "march
through" assumed the character of a ravaging con-
queror's invasion, the stronger grew the sympathies
in Swedish hearts for the little brave nation that
undaunted held on for right and liberty wtthout
counting the crushing superiority of numbers.
Perhaps German strategy, in spite of it having miscal-
culated the resistance, won some advantage through
the invasion of an internationally protected country.
But there are powers in the world which after all
count more than strategy.
Short-sighted wiseacres may calculate that Belgium
ought to have yielded after a first resistance sufficient
to mark her neutrality. No, in the midst of destruc-
tion and despair, it must be said: Only now, when
the young Belgian nation has shown how thoroughly
she has taken over from her ancestors the heritage
of courage and poiuer of sacrifice, only now is her
liberty, her place in the chain of brother-nations
irrevocably secured for all time. That the whole
Belgian nation, her socialistic working class not
least, has staked so much more than feeble protests
of words has made her cause sacred to all those men
and tuomen in the whole world, who still value justice
and liberty.
Therefore: Hail to Belgium! And my sincerest
wish as a Swede must be this: if in spite of the
hope we cherish and the peace between the nations
we are trying to prepare, the day should arrive,
when our own neutral country is threatened by viola-
tion, may we then unanimously follow the magnificent
example of Belgium, securing victory in the midst
of apparent ruin.
"Rather die than become a slave,"
says a Frisian proverb. It is the same
spirit as in the song from the fifteenth century by
our Swedish Bishop Thomas:
Liberty is the best of all things
that can be sought in the whole world;
Because with liberty comes honour.
By VINCENTE BLASCO IBÀNEZ
The Noble King
This is what we in Spain call Albert of Belgium.
Our period offers to public attention two different
types of monarchs.
Some there are who rehearse their actions and words
as if they were actors, adopting theatrical poses,
trying to do a thousand different things at once,
seeking at every moment to receive the incense of the
admiration of the people and to astonish the popular
mind. They would burn dozen half the world if that
could add to their Nero-like glory and make them
more renowned. The force of their madness may
succeed in inspiring terror, but never in exciting
affection or genuine admiration.
Albert never thought of dazzling anyone; he is not
familiar with theatrical poses; his wish was to live
in peace and industrial prosperity, surrounded by his
hard-working people, and at all times he has led a
good and upright life, gentle and liberal at the same
time, like his own physical traits. He has become a
hero without wishing or seeking to become one; the
greatest and most attractive hero of the entire twen-
tieth century. He is "the noble King."
This sovereign, so suddenly called to lead his army,
in spite of his inexperience, was able to conduct the
war as many old campaigners could not have done.
His heroic tenacity at the head of a small but brave
nation was able from the very first moment to drive
back the terrible German onslaught and to break its
might.
What a glorious epic is this episode of Belgium and
her noble king! Many of his subjects perished. He
still lives because Death wished to spare him. Like a
simple gunner, he served the guns of Antwerp under a
hail of lead from the machine guns of the foe. Taking
the rifle of a soldier, he fought among the ranks of
his own infantry as their comrade.
The Belgian people have lost their homes, he has
almost lost his kingdom.
Do we not recall those inimitable models of chivalry
the uncrowned kings of the Middle Ages, wander-
ing and unfortunate, but renowned in poetry and
drama? Our period of ordinary material prose
holds still more romantic heroes in its records.
Albert the Landless is worth more than all the
Landless monarchs of history. They lost their
crowns through deeds of their own or of their families,
desire of conquest and further power. The Noble
King sees his kingdom lost for liberty, for justice, for
brave resistance to the dictates of overbearing force.
And with the noble sadness of the hero who may be
defeated but is never conquered, who knows that he
has right on his side, he stays in a corner of Flanders,
at the head of a handful of courageous souls, enabling
the whole world to see how a man of peace fights
when he has been forced to become a warrior through
the necessities of honour, how, if it be needful, the
first citizen of a democratic monarchy will know how
to die in defence of his own nobility.
A journalist caught sight of him one afternoon as the
twilight fell, leaning from a window in the City Hall
in Furnes, watching the setting sun, dreaming per-
chance.
He appeared sad, and he watched the sinking God of
Day with an aspect of deep depression.
The night was coming, and with it darkness, the hours
of uncertainty, the hours when despair is nigh.
But the night is not eternal, and when it is gone,
there comes another day, bringing with it a new sun.
By ANATOLE FRANCE
King Albert
He was born with the soul of a hero and of a righteous
man. From the moment of his accession to the throne
he was esteemed (I say this on good authority)
by his whole people, and respected by all political
and social parties, even by those least inclined to
reverence the royal prerogative. He inspired confi-
dence in all, and the truth, wisdom, justice, and mildness
of his spirit were unanimously recognised. His natural
simplicity was attractive-that simplicity which in a
prince nearly always indicates a character more
exalted than his rank.
While he was still quite young, a terrible catastrophe
fell suddenly upon him and his people and gave him
an opportunity of proving his quality. When Germany
violated the neutrality of Belgium by a monstrous
attack, King Albert did not bow to violence, and was
not content merely to protest against this infrigement
of the most sacred treaties. He drew his sword, and
this with no idea of a simulacrum of defense. He
did not think that Belgian honour could be satisfied
by a brief demonstration. Deaf to the promises of the
invader as he had been to his treaties, he did not blench
when he saw the barbarians bear down upon him,
bringing fire and sword into a country guilty only of
having obeyed the laws of honour. King Albert
opposed the little Belgian army, and his pure and
shining sword, drawn in a just cause, to the Kaiser's
innumerable hordes. He showed himself worthy of
his people; his people showed themselves worthy of him...
In the holy war King Albert showed himself a good
leader and a good soldier. He was seen at Anywerp
in a battery, laying a gun himself, and hitting an
objective which was supposed to be out of range.
At another point he was found in the trenches, armed
with a rifle, and shooting side by side with his infantry-
men. How fine is the spectacle of this young Prince,
who rivals the best kings in wisdom and the roughest
troopers in courage!
These great deeds of the Belgian King and people
will not have been done in vain. Not in vain will
Albert and Belgium in arms have made Liege the
Thermopylae of European civilisation. They have
broken the rush of the barbarians, contributed largely
to the victory of the Allies, and ensured the triumph
of right and liberty.
My country owes a debt of gratitude to King Albert
And his people which they will ever hold sacred.
This will be evident, when, in concert with our noble
Allies, she will work for the constitution of a har-
monious Europe, after our final triumph.
By WALTER SICHEL
To King and People
All the great things have been done by the little peoples.— Disraeli
Sire, King of men, disdainer of the mean,
Belgium's inspirer, well thou stand'st for all
She bodes to generations yet unseen.
Freedom and fealty—Kingship's coronal.
Nation of miracles, how swift you start
To super-stature of heroic deeds
So brave, so silent beats your bleeding heart
That ours, e'en in the flush of welcome, bleeds.
No sound of wailing. Look, above, afar,
Throbs in the darkness with triumphant ray
A little yet an all-commanding star.
The morning star that heralds forth the day.
By ISRAEL ZANGWILL
Paradise Lost
OCCASIONALLY for me the fog in the North Sea lifts, and through the
letters of a young officer on a battleship I get a glimpse of how Britannia
is ruling the waves. The precise position of her trident remains scrupu-
lously shrouded—at first even the name was removed from the ship's letter-
paper—but the glimpse is enough to reveal the greatness and madness of
mankind. It is life at its acme of strain and exaltation: life joyously ready
to pass on the instant into death, as some unseen mine is struck, or some
crafty torpedo strikes. Everybody sleeps in his clothes, and half the night
not at all. The great ship is bared of all save necessities: my young friend's
spare wardrobe, with all his miscellany of superfluous possessions, the queer
garnered treasure of the years, comes economically home. Why, indeed,
sink more capital with the ship than is absolutely inevitable?
Now and again the tension of this terrible vigilance is relieved, if only by
a change in tension. One seeks death instead of waiting for it. There is a
grapple with a German cruiser, and those not at the guns crowd cheerfully
on deck to watch the match with that wonderful British love of sport. They
compare the cannonading, note with lively interest the scores made by the
rival shells. Once the rift in the fog shows the return of a raiding flotilla,
scarred with glorious battle, and the other vessels of the fleet are dressed
to salute its triumph, the bands are playing "Rule Britannia," the crews
are cheering and singing.
But none of these peeps has left on me so ineffaceable an impression as the
picture of my young friend reading—reading at every break in his grim
watches—and reading not the detective stories that unbent Bismarck but—
"Paradise Lost!" For the first time he has had leisure to read that
sonorous epic straight through and, unlike Dr. Johnson who questioned if
anyone ever wished it longer, he revels insatiably in the Miltonic splendours,
and he quotes Addison and the Spectator in endorsement of his enthusiasm.
Despite the Admiralty decree, you see, he has been unable to regard his
books as dispensable: they must sink or float with him. And so in the
midst of this waste of white waters and hissing shrapnel, he has found for
himself a quiet Paradise of beautiful words and visionary magnificence,
and it exists for him out of relation to the tense and tragic actual. And
yet what could be apter reading than this epic
Of man's first disobedience and the fruit
Of that forbidden tree whose mortal taste
Brought death into the world and all our woe?
The very first incident, indeed, recorded after Paradise was lost is a murder,
and this fratricidal strife of Cain and Abel has repeated itself in every
generation and given to the phrase "the brotherhood of man" a sinister
significance. But never in all the long history of blood-lust have so many
millions of brothers stood embattled, ready to spike one another's bowels
with steel, or shatter their faces with devilish explosives, as in this twentieth
century of the Christian era.
Now, whatever be the rights or wrongs of war, one thing seems clear. The
weapons are wrong. My young friend, with his fine-spun brain and his
spiritual delight in Milton's harmonics, ought not to be annihilated by a
piece of raw matter. One does not fight a Sèvres vase with a stone. Bring
up your Chinese vase an you will, and let the battle be of beauty. There is
a horrible expression, "food for powder"—you will find it in all languages
that are really civilised. It implies that the masses are so coarse in texture,
are carcasses so gross and sub-human, that their best use is to be thrown to
the guns—a providential fire-screen for the finer classes. Democracy will
in due time take note of this conception. But in its rude way the phrase
shadows forth a truth—the truth that, for all who have passed beyond the
animal stage, the war of tooth and claw is antiquated. Our war, if war
there be, must be conducted with weapons suitable to the dignity of the
super-beast who has been so laboriously evolved, suitable to the spirit
which through innumerable aeons has been winning its way through the
welter of brute impulses. Not for man the slaver of the serpent, the fangs
of the tiger. And shelling is only the ejection of a deadlier slaver, the bayonet
only a fiercer fang. It seems futile to have evolved from the brute if our
brain-power only makes us bigger brutes. "The man behind the gun"—
a 15-inch gun that hurls a ton of metal for twelve miles—is a wilder and
more monstrous beast than ever appeared even in the antediluvian epoch,
and that he should not be kept safely stuffed in a museum like the ptero-
dactyl is an intolerable anachronism. A world in which with one movement
of his paw he can kill off a whole congregation of Milton-worshippers is a
world which should have been nipped in the nebula. No, if fighting there
must be, let my young friend fight against Nietzsche-worshippers—let the
lucid lines of the Puritan poet confound the formless squadrons of the
Pagan dithyrambist. Brain against brain, soul against soul, thought against
thought, art against art, man, in short, against man—there lies the fight of
the future. If my young friend were a man of science, he would be kept
awake not by the German torpedoes but by the German treatises: were he
only a tailor, he should never throw away his yard-stick for a lance but
with his good old scissors cut out the Teutonic tailor.
After such civilised fashion, indeed, the Anglo-German contest has long
been raging, and the German has been winning all along the line. His
patience, his industry, his nice study of his customers, has everywhere
swept the Englishman aside. Before his music the Briton fell—in worship;
his drama invaded us triumphantly. Why was Germany not content with
this victorious campaign, with this campaign worthy of human beings?
German influence, German Kultur—it is spread by peace, not by the sword.
To German Universities shoals of Russian students flocked as to shrines,
humble feudatories of German scholarship, German thoroughness. To
the barbarous regions, where an Ovid might still lament his exile, they
carried back German methods, the cult of German science. And to me,
on my illiterate island, little German cities, a Munich, a Dresden, where
the theatre was classic and inexpensive, and the opera a form of art and not
a social display, loomed like models of civilisation. Why must Germany
challenge the world on the lower plane of brute matter? It is only the
inferior peoples that need the sword. The Turks have had to rule with a
rod of iron—they had no right but might, no gift for the world. Such races
must assert themselves in fire and write their edicts in blood. But fire
burns down and blood dries up and fades, and the only durable influence
is the power of the spirit.
Fatal perversity of Germany—to have misunderstood her own greatness!
Proud in her pseudo-philosophy, she has repeated "man's first disobedience"
—she has ignored the divine voice, she has listened to the lower promptings
of the serpent. There will never be a Paradise again for man till he bends
his ear to a truer philosopher than Treitschke to a prince of peace:
Till one greater man-
Restore us and regain the blissful seat.
By EDITH WHARTON
Belgium
La Belgique ne regrette rien.
Not with her ruined silver spires.
Not with her cities shamed and rent,
Perish the imperishable fires
That shape the homestead from the tent.
Wherever men are staunch and free.
There shall she keep her fearless state,
And, homeless, to great nations be
The home of all that makes them great.
By COMMENDATORE TOMMASO SALVINI
Ali civilised nations offer here their tribute of homage
and admiration to the King of the Belgians, that
modern Spartan Agis.
A vain-glorious invading monarch has destroyed the
peace of the industrious Belgian nation, a nation
devoted to intellectual and commercial progress, rich
in works of art, in classical monuments, and flourishing
by virtue of her enviable industry.
And this was in no wise the fault of the King
nor of his brave people. For the Belgians,
persisting in their neutrality, could not allow the
German troops to march through their country to
the conquest of France. They could not and they
would not.
Whereupon Germany carried out her critical and
brutal invasion, defying the rights of nations. Shame
on the invader! All honour to the Belgian people
and to their noble King!
I feel sure that even in Germany the intellectual and
humane minority can but disapprove in the depths of their
hearts that Prussian militarism, which by sheer brute
force has violated political treaties with other Powers,
and failed to keep an undertaking "rooted in honour."
I deplore the fact that Italy, Spain, Roumania,
Bulgaria, and Greece have not joined England, Russia,
France, Serbia, Portugal, and Japan to punish the
insolence and treachery of Germany and Austria-
Hungary.
But there is an old Italian proverb which is rarely wrong:
"DIO non paga il sabato"
"GOD does not pay every Saturday,"
i.e. He punishes in his own good time.
Therefore we must await the
judgment and sentence of our Lord.
By CONDE DE ROMANONES
The world of civilisation awaits with anxiety the
results of the terrible events which will make known
the fate reserved for Belgium. This little nation,
small until the day of her disaster and overthrow,
but now possessing a moral greatness unsurpassed in
history, cannot disappear, cannot lose her sovereignty.
If such a thing could happen, w should have to
admit that Right and Justice are no longer the
principles of existence among civilised people; it
would further be a terrible lesson that these could
never forget. Why should so much care, so much
energy be expended in increasing the moral and mate-
rial forces of a small territory, and transforming it into
a model nation, worthy of all respect and considera-
tion-why should such efforts be made to further its
advance on the path of progress, liberty, respect for
the rights of others, if in the last resort the rights of
the strongest is to prevail?
In this case it would be better to live the life of savage
independence proper to people as yet outside the pale
of civilisation.
By DR. LYMAN ABBOTT
WHATEVER may be our various opinions respecting the merits of this
terrible war in Europe there can be no question that Belgium, which so far
has been perhaps the chief sufferer, is absolutely innocent of any offence.
The war has swept over her land, cities have been destroyed, homes desolated
and thousands of Belgians killed, because she refused to disregard her own
promise but chose rather to battle bravely in a desperate endeavour to
maintain that neutrality to which she and the Powers of Europe were
pledged. The needs of the Belgians appeal to all lovers of their fellow-men
whatever their race, their religious creed, or their sympathies in this war.
By LADY LUGARD
I AM honoured in being allowed to express my profound respect for a
nation which has lifted contemporary history in one step from the
commonplace to the heroic. The times have suddenly become great. It
is the prayer of all our hearts that we may be great with them. For Belgium
the prayer is already answered—she has become a great nation. In material
ruin she has risen to spiritual conquest so complete that the world lies at
her feet. No enemy can deprive her of this triumph. Her young King
has reason to be proud and glad. So long as history is told it will be re-
membered that under his leadership Belgium as an entire nation was ready
to face martyrdom for her faith. She has suffered a martyrdom which,
by its detail of horror and brutality, seems to be misplaced in the history of
civilisation. And the faith for which she has suffered is not her faith alone
—it is our faith too. It is faith in honour, faith in truth, faith in courage,
justice, liberty—faith in all that renders human relations sacred, tender,
and inspiring. For this common faith we are prepared to stand. The
nations feel, their Governments have said, that arms cannot be laid down
until this faith has been vindicated. With its vindication must come the
ultimate victory of Belgium and her reinstatement upon a new and higher
plane of nationality.
It has been happily given to England while waiting in confidence for that
day to take her part in offering to the stricken Belgian population such help
as hospitality and sympathy can give. My own humble part has been to
share with others in this work of consolation. It has been at once our
comfort and our privilege. We know, alas too well, how little it is,
humanly speaking, possible to assuage the unparalleled sufferings in the
presence of which we find ourselves. But as we have moved daily in the
midst of sorrows which must have touched a heart of stone, and have noted
with growing admiration the magnificent fortitude, the simplicity, the
gratitude for kindness received with which they have been borne, the hope
has become conviction in our hearts that the noble promise will yet again
be fulfilled: "They that sow in tears shall reap in joy and he that goeth on
his way weeping and beareth forth good seed shall doubtless come again
with joy and bring his sheaves with him." "Shall doubtless"—It is for
that "doubtless" that I believe our whole nation is prepared to maintain
the fight while there is a man or a woman left in the British Empire.
By ROBERTO BRACCO
At this historic moment, Belgium—"a nation in its agony"
—is the greatest nation of Europe.
By MARCEL PRÉVOST
Ai the tragic moment when one Sovereign of Europe
was unleashing the dark powers of barbarism, another
Sovereign arose who freed the powers of heroism.
And all at once the spirit of the hero permeated
the nations—these old Western nations that were
thought too civilised to smile at the menaces of Death.
Glory to King Albert, King of the Belgians, who has
revealed to us the value of our souls.
By JONAS BOJER
We are at last in for an epoch of heroism, the King again taking the supreme
place among his nation. The storm has swept away Parliament and speakers.
Government and elections, parties and party programmes. Only one thing
remains, a monumental thing—the nation and the nation's father.
King Albert, rich when his country was wealthy—happy when Belgium
flourished—poor when his kingdom was sunk in ruins—a refugee in his
land when his own countrymen were driven away from hearth and home.
Brave among the braves, wounded among the wounded, but forever
standing erect as a symbol of the vitality of his people, who had only dreamed
to live and work on the plains of Flanders. He was too proud to become
a martyr, too strong to ask for pity; he boldly faced destruction, uncon-
querable because justice and the future are on his side. There where he
shows himself refugees find a home, the fatherless a brother, the homeless
a fatherland, the desperate a leader whom they can trust and who is full of
faith. He is the man who has given the faded glories of royal crowns a
new splendour; he is the only one in this gigantic fight who bears on his
forehead the stamp of divine innocence.
At his side stands his wife, a woman who from being Queen over a realm
rises to become the Holy Mother of a nation.
By FREDERIK VAN EEDEN
Homage and sympathy for the Belgians and their King.
By LUIGI CAPUANA
HITHERTO it seemed a horrible nightmare from which I could not escape.
So I turned to the vigorous novels of my friend Camille Lemonnier, to
the delicate melodies of my friend Valére Gille, to the strange but powerful
dramas of Maurice Maeterlinck, in all of which I had loved and admired
different aspects of a happy laborious Belgium, flourishing in Industry,
Commerce, Art, and Letters.
I asked myself: Is it possible? Is it possible?
And with feverish hands I turned over the noble pages which La Belgique
artistique et littéraire of April 1909 devoted to the relief of Messinese and
Calabrian sufferers from the earthquake, an outburst of ardent writings
and a magnificent series of drawings, beginning with an etching by Her
Royal Highness Marie, Countess of Flanders.
My Sicily still remembers this outburst of fraternal charity, and would
certainly like to repay it now in the worthiest manner.
Is it possible? Is it possible? I still ask myself. In the presence of such
a treasure of vitality, love, and compassion, I felt my heart wrung when I
recognised, as alas! I was obliged to do, that I was confronted, not with
any horrible hallucination, but with a terrible reality, transcending any
monstrous aberration of the human imagination.
Does Belgium no longer exist?
The arbitrary madness of a Sovereign who believes himself to be in direct
communication with God has suddenly let loose a hurricane of fire and iron
on her capital, on the richest and most peaceful of her cities, on the most
fertile districts of her characteristic provinces, condemning to miserable
exile thousands of old men, women, and children, who have fled before the
barbarian violence of hordes unworthy of the name of soldiers.
Belgium no longer exist?
Oh! it cannot be!
No one could have supposed that this tranquil nation could have had the
strength and courage to contest the cowardly German invasion, step by
step, to resist continuously, in the face of overwhelming numbers and the
gradual decimation of the proud army gathered round her heroic King and
her not less heroic Queen.
And none would yet dare to believe that the hour will not soon come when
there will be a great reconquest, in which the hated invaders will be driven
from the sacred soil of Belgium and he who has not hesitated to expose his
own life as freely as the humblest of his soldiers will return to the Royal
Palace at Brussels, crowned with a halo of glory.
France, England, and Russia are and will always be proud to contribute to
this lofty work of restitution, and I hope to see in the victorious procession
with them, my Italy, who cannot and ought not to tolerate the disappearance
of Belgium from among the nations of Europe.
And now let us remember again!
The publication of that wonderful number of La Belgique artistique et
littéraire was followed by a military fête, given by the Brussels garrison in
aid of the victims of the earthquake; proud young soldiers took part in
equestrian exercises, and in the evolutions of quick-firing batteries... I
think with horror how many of those young figures have disappeared,
mowed down by the treacherous war thrust on them by the Germans;
and I think too how many writers like Paul André, Georges Eckland, Henry
Davignon; poets like Emile Verhaeren, Georges Marlon, Auguste Vierset,
Théo. Hannon; painters and sculptors like Edmond Piccard, Xavier
Malléry, Ferd. Georges Lemmors, Henry Wautiers; musicians like Paul
Gilson, Emile Mathieu, Victor Ruffin^I take the first names that come
into my head—I think how many of these, suddenly transformed into
combatants, have paid with their lives for the patriotic ardour of their hearts.
Nevertheless, how marvellous is the revelation of that stricken, devastated,
and starving Belgium, pressing round her noble King and her gentle Queen,
and almost forgetting her own pains in those of the elect couple, those living
symbols of a land violated but not vanquished.
And how I suffer at the repression of the Hymn of Praise I would fain pour
out to them by the horrible spectacle of the barbarian invasion, which freezes
the words on my lips, and confounds my thoughts!
Yet this is powerless to overcome my steadfast faith in the speedy advent
of a glorious and complete reconquest.
And with a heart overflowing with this hope, and a hand trembling with
emotion I write:
Long live King Albert! Long live Queen Elisabeth! Long live heroic—
and immortal—Belgium!
By SIR F. CARRUTHERS GOULD
WHEN the story of the terrible European War which is now raging comes
to be written in the calm dispassion of impartial judgment, it will without
doubt be recognised that no nobler page in history can be found than that
which records the heroic self-sacrificing stand which martyred Belgium
made, not merely to protect herself against unscrupulous and brutal ag-
gression, but to assert her sacred right to her independence and to protest
against being made a passive tool for furthering the wanton and wicked
designs of German military dominance over Europe.
War in the twentieth century, and after nineteen hundred and fourteen
years of Christianity, seems a monstrous outrage on civilisation, but we in
this country, in spite of our hatred of war, feel that Christianity itself would
have been still more foully outraged if we had not resolved to draw the
sword, and to the best of our power to stand by Belgium and her heroic
monarch and his gallant people, and to assert the eternal principles of
Justice and Honour.
By DR. OLINDO MALAGODI (To represent "La Tribuna," Rome)
All-powerful Germany, seeking to justify her violation
of Belgium's neutrality, to which she herself was
solemnly pledged, proclaimed by the mouth of her
Chancellor that "Necessity knows no law." By
these words she attenuated her own power, making
it the subject and slave of conditiotis and circumstances,
and thus humiliating herself as a nation.
Belgium, small and poorly armed, replied by her
heroic defence, which may be translated by the anti-
thesis: Law knows no necessity. Though Belgium
has been crushed materially, this deed has raised
her far above her powerful adversary and has given
her a moral victory of infinite value to the world,
In this contrast all the glorious epic of Belgium's
defence is expressed. It holds a promise and an
augury for the future of mankind. The Germany of
today, which is no longer the Germany of Kant and
Schiller, bases her policy on the axiom: Might is
right. This axiom is perhaps in harmony with actual
realities; but all the more must we value any action
which contradicts this iron law, any action which,
like the sacrifice so heroically submitted to by Belgium,
tends to prepare a new and more humane reality, in
which Right will be Might.
By EARL BRASSEY
THE Belgian people may be well assured that we in England are their true
friends. We have felt the keenest sympathy with them in all that they have
suffered. We have profoundly regretted our inability to come more
promptly to their relief. We have appreciated their exalted patriotism
and the dauntless valour of their brave troops. We hope the day is not
distant when they will receive compensation for their heavy losses and cruel
sacrifices.
By ELLEN KEY
SOME months ago Belgium was fertile and fair beyond expression. It was
the land of calmly flowing rivers, grand forests, wide fields: beautiful at
every time and glorious when wrapped in the golden mists of summer
sunset. It was the land of splendid old towns, where the belfries made
the heart glad with music, and where great works of art—by masters old
and new—filled the soul with joy.
Now Belgium is full of sorrow and misery. The garden is changed into a
desert. A great number of the people are dead; a still greater number are
wandering in exile in foreign lands. For the remainder—for King as for
beggar—life is a tragedy too deep for tears. This fate has overcome Bel-
gium because the world is still ruled by force, not by justice.
But the name of Belgium is now engraved in the conscience of the world.
Humanity can have no peace in sight of the fate of this people. That fate
must be changed or we shall witness such a defeat for our higher ideals, such
a loss for the great principles which our best men and women have lived
or died for, that we ought to resist this defeat and be on our guard against
this loss with as much energy as we should use in the defence of our own
country.
By LEONARDO BISTOLFI
THE sublime sacrifice of the Belgian people will consecrate the blood-
stained earth of its martyrs as an altar reared by the hands of Death to the
pure and inviolable beauty of Life.
By LIEUT.-GENERAL SIR ROBERT BADEN-POWELL
IT would be trite to quote David against Goliath in the case of gallant little
Belgium standing up to the ogre of Prussian Militarism, but that historic
fight had its counterpart recently where a peaceful, hard-working little
tailor was set upon by a big, beery loafer. The neighbours, out of pity
and sense of fair play, were prepared to run to the rescue, when they stood
back to cheer, for the little man stuck up, on his own, to the bully, and
punched him and tripped him and held him down till help arrived. In a
moment the insignificant little worker had changed into the hero of the
village.
There are two things above all others which Britons, down to the very
lowest among them, inherently appreciate, and those are Pluck and Fair Play.
That is why their sympathy is hot and strong for the plucky little nation
which stood up as a champion for liberty and fair play against the over-
whelming tide of brute-force.
By SIR JAMES BARR, M.D., LL.D.
Some Eugenic Ideals
AS one of those who do not look upon war as an unmixed evil, and who
think that it is sometimes well for a nation to be purified as if by fire, I feel
confident that a fine race like the Belgians, who have shown their survival
value, will yet rise superior to "German Kultur," and with the aid of their
Allies will crush the barbarous monster who seeks to rule the world by
brute force. War, no doubt, has played an important part in the evolution
of the human race, just as a struggle for existence among lower forms of
life occurred long before the appearance of man on the globe. No doubt
this struggle in one form or another will continue for generations yet unborn.
The millennium, whatever that may mean, is still in the dim and shadowy
future. There is now a vain hope, a kind of blessed assurance, among many
peaceful individuals that this is the last great war, that the battle of Arma-
geddon is being now fought, and that men will learn the art of war no more.
This is a consummation devoutly to be wished, but one which will not be
attained as we are still on the borderland of savagery. I hope the rulers
of the allied nations will not be actuated by any such foolish ideas, but will
recognise facts and not be misled by lying proclamations of Germany's
peaceful intentions—proclamations which contravened facts and the falsity
of which should have been apparent to every intelligent being.
I have long recognised that a life and death struggle would be forced on
Britain by Germany, but I never thought that it would occur under such
favourable conditions for our country. Now that this struggle has occurred
it should be the duty of all the Allies to see that the conditions are so altered
that it will never recur. As a wise preventive the Hohenzollern and Haps-
burg families should be eliminated root and branch, and sane rulers placed
in their stead. It should not be left within the power of any series of
megalomaniacs to disturb the peace of the world.
The "German Kultur" as manifested in Louvain, and by rapine and
plunder throughout Belgium, must be exterminated, and this savage breed
as far as possible wiped out, but herein arises an insuperable difficulty.
Maeterlinck truly says the Germans are all guilty, any differentiation is a
mere matter of degree, and you cannot wipe out loo millions. Moreover,
any such attempt would degrade the Allies to the low base level of German
conduct. We must carry on an honourable warfare which will leave no blot
on our escutcheon. We must conquer nobly, we must make the Germans
pay to their last stiver for the war which they have so ruthlessly conducted.
We must weed out the worst of the barbarians, and utterly destroy the
princely looters with the rest of the Prussian military gang who have proved
themselves a disgrace to humanity. When the Germans discover that
dishonourable conduct does not pay, that it has no survival value, then we
may eventually get a newer and truer Germany.
Personally, I have no objection to German ascendancy if they produce a
finer race than ourselves, but I do object to that ascendancy being attained
by brute force. I have never liked German methods, but I have always
given them full credit for their perseverance and ability. Unfortunately
we have all been too apt to accept the German at the face value put on by
himself without carefully examining his intrinsic merit or demerit as the
case may be. Germany has produced no genius, there is no scope for
individualism, her work is the collective wisdom of commonplace savants,
she has never produced nor is ever likely to produce a super-man, there has
been no evolution of the higher and nobler nature of man, the race has not
received that internal push, as Bergson would say, which has carried life
by more and more complex forms to higher and higher destinies. There
has been no cultivation of the spirit of altruism, that highest product of
human evolution which is shown by sympathy with our fellow-beings in
their suffering. On the contrary the worst and most brutal characteristics
of the Huns were evolved and developed in the Franco-Prussian War of
1870, and have now been perpetuated in an even more accentuated form in
the present war. The German Emperor emulates and out-Herods the
conduct of Attila, "the Scourge of God." When, O God, when can such
scourges be eliminated? Surely their existence can be of no value to the
higher evolution of the race. The blasphemous speeches of this monarch
can have no divine sanction, and should not be allowed to mislead a deluded
nation; the only beneficial effect which they can have may be to lead the
guilty to their destruction.
The Allies have shown their manhood and the capacity to rule, we must
not therefore rest satisfied with the conquest of Germany, the establishment
of peace and the rehabiliment of Belgium, but we must also raise imperial
races whose influences will be felt for good throughout the world. We must
raise healthy, vigorous manhood and womanhood, men and women who will
hold their own in the battle of life with any other nations—we want nations
of stalwarts. This can all be rapidly attained by intelligent artificial selection,
and the nation which produces the finest, noblest, and most intellectual race
will win in the long run. Bacon said:" The principal point of greatness
in any State is to have a race of military men." He did not then contemplate
the Prussian braggadocio. We are getting more peaceable since Bacon's
days. Some are preaching peace, eternal peace, forgetting that there has
been a constant and incessant struggle on the earth since the first appearance
of life thereon, and the surest way of any nation preserving the peace is to
be always ready for a fight. If the Allies had been ready Germany would
not have attacked them. The health of a nation is its most valuable asset,
and I should like to see every man between the ages of 20 and 60 able to
handle a rifle and a bayonet, and, if needs be, take part in the defence of
his country.
In King Albert we have a worthy ruler of an imperial race, and I hope he
may live long to rule over such a self-reliant and noble people.
By ARMANDO PALAGIO VALDÉS
The Legend of King Albert
In the coming ages, during the long winter
evenings, mothers will tell their children
"The Legend of King Albert."
"Once upon a time, my children, there was a King
who reigned over a small, industrious, noble and
valiant race; and this King was the noblest of the
noble, and the bravest of the brave. Near him there
lived a dreadful giani who ruled over a great race of
warriors. This giant kept all those about him in
awe and fear, and he abounded in power and pride.
Moreover, he had a wonderful cannon, the size of a
cathedral, with which he made havoc of the country-
side and ground cities into dust. This small nation
had for its neighbour another state—a rich and happy
state, which the giant coveted.
"'Let me pass through your dominions,' he said one
day to our King. 'I want to destroy and enslave
that nation which dwells nigh you. If you let me
through, you shall have wealth; you shall share the
plunder that I get; some of the provinces of that
nation shall come under your sway. Should you not
let me through, I will crush your people and you
shall all be slaves'
"'You shall not pass—except over our dead bodies'
answered the valiant King.' My people, one of the
most prosperous on earth, sets great store by its
manufactures, its riches, its large cities, its handsome,
monuments: but it loves honour more. You can
again pile stones one upon the other; but, if honour
be uprooted, who can raise it from its ruins? Keep
your money; if that is what you want, take mine
and my people's! Take our lives! Enslave us!
You will fail to make us base!'
"Then the cruel giant fell on that tiny race, destroyed
its cities, burned its hamlets, slew many of its in-
habitants, and spread fear and misery everywhere.
"The high-minded King set forth from his dominions,
but—marvellous to tell!—he found them growing
larger. All proclaimed themselves his vassals.
Wherever he went, he was hailed as though he were
a triumphant conqueror. Women scattered flowers
on his head; men waved their hats, and cried—
'Long live the King!'
"At last, surrounded by a handful of heroic soldiers,
he made his way once more into his Kingdom, and
began to win it back again. Many helped him:
some with their swords, some with their pens, others
with their prayers. The angels of heaven opened up
a path for him. And, after a desperate and bloody
struggle, inch by inch, he kept on recovering his lost
Kingdom. When, at last, he came to his throne
again, the whole world raised a shout of exultation.
For justice had triumphed, God's word was fulfilled,
and the powers of darkness were vanquished.
"My children, this King was happy afterwards on
earth, and is now happy in heaven."
By PAUL BOURGET
War, in the midst of its awful and manifold trials,
bestows at least one benefit on the nations and in-
dividual who accept its tragic necessity in a manly
spirit: that of education by endurance, which may
make this formidable element of destruction a fertile
element of reconstruction. War has yet another
benefit to offer to "men of good will"; that of the
example to be given and received, by means of which
this bloody artificer of discord becomes also an agent
of union. It binds the social sheaf more closely
together, at the very moment when it seems about to
scatter it. Example, when it is the example of duty
on the battle-field, rallies all energies round the
standard with extraordinary vigour! The superior
models the inferior upon himself, courage reanimates
despair, strength becomes the rule for weakness, the
stout of heart is a living sermon. He shows what
man can do if he will, what you, his comrade, could
do if you would. And you will.—To brave danger,
to suffer, to die—to you, fortunate heir of a happy
age, these words had such a remote significance!
In a few days war made them a terrible reality.
Would you have strength to face it? You doubted
it. But another, close to you, showed this strength,
calmly and quietly. His altitude was contagious.
What he can do, you will do. You go out to meet
danger, you are willing to suffer, you will be able to
die. It is the miracle of sacrifice that it multiplies
in all who witness it. We have been seeing this
miracle every day, every hour for the last three months.
This propagation of the sacred flame is really the
handing on of the torch of which Lucretius speaks:
Et quasi cursores virtutis lampada tradunt,
I would venture to say, replacing the vital of the text
by that word to which those born soldiers, the Romans,
gave such deep meaning: virtus!
Among these hearers of the heroic torch, no figure is
to me so touching as that of the Prince to whom my
country, France, can never be too passionately
grateful. I speak of that King Albert whose splendid
personality has given the highest meaning to this
stern war. Without him, and without the Belgian
people, it would have been but a universal cataclysm
of no very definite significance.
King Albert has done more. The First of Englishmen
has recognised this in one of those speeches British
orators make when they are moving on the great lines
of their history. Europe was formerly a collection
of small States, the fragmentary nature of which
made the monstrous onslaught of immense human
masses such as that we are witnessing today very
difficult. Prince Bismarck was the sinister genius
who destroyed this prudently arranged Europe.
Belgium is one of the few small states that survived.
If when the storm is over we wish to establish a
lasting peace, we must return to this policy of small
States. One of the Sovereigns of the Coalition wisely
said to one of our best Ambassadors: "The task of
the Allies is to bring Europe back to the ante-Bis-
marckian period."The cure lies in this direction,
not in ineffectual and chimerical proclamations of
definitive peace, nor in the redoubtable project of a
greater unification of Germany under a republican
label. It is essential to the future of the civilised
world that there should be no longer a Germany, but
several Germanys, a mosaic of small States, instead
of the block amalgamated by the mighty hand of the
Iron Chancellor. But to ensure the existence of such
a Europe, it is a sine qua non that the first article
of its code should be the independence of small States.
It was this principle, the basis and the guarantee of
future international equilibrium, that the Belgians
called upon the English and the French to defend
with them, thus bringing us too back to the great
tradition of our history. The old French monarchy
was faithful to this principle, and political truth
recognised social truth in the King's action. This
action he performed with the greatest simplicity.
Throughout the long, hard weeks in which he has
seen his towns bombarded, his banks robbed, his
subjects massacred, his Ministers compelled to seek
asylum in France, he has not uttered a single com-
plaint, and such has been the sublime sympathy
between the heart of the Prince and the heart of his
people, that not a word of regret has been heard
revealing the despondency of an invaded people. An
invincible will, serving a true conception—could any
spectacle stir the soul to more virile respect and,
if possible, emulation? Michelet tells us Kléber
had such a martial air that those who saw him
became brave. Of King Albert it may he said that
even thinking of him makes one a better man.
By T. P. O'CONNOR
"YOU have saved Europe," were the words that came instinctively to my
lips when I met my friend, M. Edmond de Prelle, of the Belgian Legation,
for the first time after the opening of the War; and these words still sum up
my feeling and the feeling of millions of the peoples of our Empire with
regard to the part which Belgium has played in this great tragedy of a
European War. Give due praise to the gallant entry of the French Army,
to the deathless story of French's retreat; and still you have to come back
to the point that it was Belgium that met and held back the first onrush of
the Germans in their invasion of Western Europe. The heroic defence of
Liege, followed by similar heroism, obstinate bravery, tenacious defence,
in other parts of the Belgians' native land, had the incalculable results on
all the future of staying the progress of the war of the Germans; of turning
topsy-turvy their ambitious and well-arranged Time-Table; and thus of
giving to both France and England the full time and opportunity to be
ready for the invaders on their belated arrival on the soil of France. If
Paris be safe today, if the French and British troops are now steadily
throwing back the invader, if, in short, the whole tide of the fortunes of
battle have turned, it is Belgium that must always have the glory of striking
the first and decisive blow which led inevitably to those splendid results.
The heroism of this resistance is made all the greater by the gigantic in-
equality between the forces of Belgium and those of her powerful enemy;
the greater the disproportion the greater the heroism. It is comparatively
easy for one brave army to face another which is about its equal in strength;
but for an army infinitesimal in point of numbers to face the gigantic army
of Germany to go into battle was what soldiers call a forlorn hope—that is
to say, an enterprise for which only the bravest even among the brave
volunteer to undertake. And to Belgium, as to Greece in the days of her
ancient struggle against the hordes of Asia, civilisation will always give her
infinite gratitude, and Liège will take its place in the same calendar as
Thermopylae.
This resistance then to Germany has put Europe and civilisation under this
great debt to Belgium; but I can add that future generations of Belgians
will bless the generation of today who by their heroic resistance have
placed the liberty and the independence of Belgium on an impregnable
rock. Never again will any Power, however powerful, unscrupulous, or
cruel, dare to violate the soil or attempt to destroy the national and in-
dependent existence of Belgium. The men—the women and the children
also—of Belgium who have died, have sealed with their blood the divine
right of Belgium for all time to own and rule their own country.
By M. D. MEREJKOWSKY
To THE Belgian People
WE do not say to you—Have courage. No courage could be greater than
that which you have shown. But we say to you—Have faith. Your
sufferings have not been in vain; they have awakened the conscience of the
peoples. From henceforth your land, drenched with the blood of your
sons, shall be a Holy Land: from henceforth your cause shall be the cause
of Humanity. To wipe away the tears from your eyes, to heal your wounds,
to restore a hundred-fold that which has been taken from you, this the
peoples have solemnly sworn—to this they have pledged their honour, and
that oath will be kept. We desire no solace while you remain desolate, we
desire no liberty while you remain in bondage, we desire no victory until
you have conquered. In the day when the victors triumph, the first crown
shall be yours; and Humanity shall bestow it upon you. All nations shall
make way for you, and in the forefront you shall enter the promised land.
Part 6