A KING OF HEROESToC

"King" is not a word that will go out of use when the world has been won for democracy. We shall still use it much as we do now, when we say, "He is a prince" or "He is a king among men"; for there are still good kings, as well as bad ones. Some countries that are really democratic prefer to keep kings as reminders of their past and as ornaments of their present.

England is really more democratic than the United States and yet England has a king; and as some one has said, he is a king and a democrat and a king of democrats. This was well shown by his letter to the first American soldiers who marched through London in April, 1918, on their way to the battle line in France. Each soldier was handed an envelope bearing the inscription, "A message to you from his majesty, King George V." In the envelope was the letter shown on the opposite page, from a democratic king to the American soldiers in the army of democracy.

No autocratic king or kaiser desires to shake the hand of each of his soldiers or to become in any way one of them. To an autocrat, to the German Kaiser, to the German officers, the German privates are only Things to be used as are swords and guns. A wounded German officer felt insulted because he was made well again in an English hospital in the same ward with German privates.

An interesting story is told of a Red Cross nurse, to whom a badly wounded man was brought at a field hospital during one of the battles in which the brave little Belgian army was trying to hold back the invading Germans. All the surgeons were busy, and the man needed assistance at once. The nurse knew what was needed to save his life until he could receive surgical treatment, and she knew how to do it; but she could not do it alone. She must have help at once, and of the right kind.

She was about to give up in despair, when she saw a man walking through the field hospital, cheering the sufferers and asking if he could be of any assistance. She called to him, and when he came she said, "You can save this man's life if you will help me and do just what I tell you, just when I tell you to do it. Do you think you can take orders and obey them promptly?"

"I think so," replied the man. "Let us save this poor soldier's life, if we can."

The nurse set to work, telling the stranger just what she wanted him to do. She wasted no words, but gave orders as if she expected them to be obeyed quickly and intelligently. The stranger proved himself equal to the occasion, and the delicate work which saved the man's life was soon done.

"Thank you," said the nurse, as she finished. "I see you are used to taking orders and know how to obey. I shall remain with this soldier, until he regains consciousness. He will want to know to whose assistance he owes his life. Kindly give me your name."

The stranger hesitated. Then he said, "The soldier really owes his life to you, but I am glad if I was able to help. If he asks, you may tell him the people call me Albert."

And all at once the commanding little Red Cross nurse understood that the tall, quiet man, who, she said, showed that he was used to taking orders, was Albert, King of the Belgians.

Italy has a king and Belgium has a king; but like King George of England they are democratic kings, exercising what authority is granted to them by the people in accordance with a constitution. The German Kaiser claims to hold all authority of life and death over his people, including the right of declaring defensive war, by "divine right," by God's choice of him and his family to rule.

When Germany, at the outbreak of the war in 1914, resolved to break the treaty in which with other nations she had pledged herself never to violate, but always to defend, the neutrality of Belgium; when she was ready to declare to the world that a sacred treaty was only "a scrap of paper" to be torn up whenever her needs seemed to require it, she sent on Sunday night, August 2, 1914, at seven o'clock, an ultimatum to the Belgian government—to be answered within twelve hours—in substance as follows:

In twelve hours Belgium must make a decision that would change her entire future history and, as later events proved, the history of Europe and of the world. She made it; and by that decision she sacrificed herself and brought death and destruction upon her people and her possessions, but she saved her honor and her soul. Germany had promised her everything, if she would only let the German armies march unhindered through Belgium into France. No Belgian should be harmed or disturbed, and anything needed by the German army would be paid for. After the Germans had won the war, as they doubtless would have done if Belgium had not blocked their way, Belgium would have become a thriving, wealthy kingdom, under German protection. Antwerp would have been perhaps the greatest port in the world, and Brussels, next to Berlin, the world's most magnificent capital. But the Belgians did not hesitate nor did their heroic king.

The Belgian Government replied on Monday morning, at four o'clock, in substance as follows:

On Tuesday the King brought in person a message to the Belgian Legislature, as President Wilson has often brought such messages to the American Congress. King Albert's message was in substance as follows:

Hardly had the King finished his noble message, when the Prime Minister announced to the Legislature that Germany had declared war upon Belgium, and that her troops were moving against Liége.

Never as long as men remember the history of these fateful days will the decisive action of the heroic Belgian people and of their heroic king be forgotten. The slightest hesitation between right and wrong would have set civilization and human liberty back perhaps a thousand years. And the decision had to be made not only by a people, but by a young king with German blood in his veins and married to a German princess—and between sunset and sunrise.

Did he see the horrors before him and his people? Did he see the destruction of the most beautiful buildings in the world, the pride of his people? Did he see the tearing down and burning of the entire city of Louvain, with its university and its valuable library containing some of the oldest and most nearly priceless books and manuscripts? Did he see the children and the aged dying by the roadside of hunger and fatigue? Did he see the Belgian men carried off as slaves to work in Germany?

Do you think he or his Queen would have hesitated if he had? No one who really knows them thinks so. Nothing can justify choosing the wrong. King Albert, the King of Heroes, and Queen Elizabeth of the Belgians are honored and respected by all who love liberty and justice, for it has been well said, "Treaties and engagements are certainly scraps of paper, just as promises are no more than breaths. But upon such scraps of paper and breaths the fabric of civilization has been built, and without them its everyday activity would come to an end." They represent truly the heroic Belgian people who by their decision on Sunday night, August 2, 1914, saved the world. Queen Elizabeth, although a Bavarian princess, has said of the Germans, "Between them and me has fallen a curtain of iron which will never again be lifted."

The Belgian Minister to the United States said of King Albert after the war had begun:

"It is when one talks with our soldiers that one perceives how he is loved; they say, all of them, that they will die for him. He is constantly at their side, encouraging them by his presence and his courage. At certain moments, he adventures too far; always he is in the very midst of combat."

The King and Queen are both of them unusually brave and daring. Not many royal pairs would trust their lives to cross the English Channel and return in an airplane, as they did in the summer of 1918 to attend a celebration held by the King and Queen of England.

A Belgian soldier writing of King Albert said: "The King came and placed himself at my side in the trench. He took the rifle of a soldier so tired he could not stand, to give him a chance to rest, and fired, just like the other soldiers, for an hour and a half. He himself often carries their letters to the soldiers and distributes among them the little bundles which their friends and parents send them from the homes now destroyed. He shares their mess with the soldiers and he calls them always 'my friends.' He does not want that they shall do him honor; he wishes simply to be a soldier in all that the word soldier means. One night he was seen, exhausted by fatigue, sleeping on the grass at the side of the road."

Do you wonder that the Belgians love their King and that the world honors him as the Hero King of a Nation of Heroes?

DEFENSE OF LIÉGEToC

To Germany's unfair and treacherous proposal that Belgium be false to her promises to the world, there was but one answer for Belgium. It was "No." Immediately after this reply had been received by the German minister, and just as King Albert had finished his noble speech and left the House, the Belgian Prime Minister had to announce to Parliament that Germany had already declared war and that even at that moment the German soldiers were advancing toward Liége, and within a few hours would be besieging the city.

Liége was the industrial center of Belgium, just as Antwerp was the commercial, and Brussels the political center, or capital. The city of Liége was famous for its coal mines, glass factories, and iron works. Of the latter the Cockerill Works of Seraing have been named as second only to Krupp's. The city is important historically and also politically—being the truest democracy in Europe. Its people were happy and free. Its governor was trusted and respected, but no less bound by common law than the people themselves.

Liége also has great strategic advantages. Situated on the left bank of the Meuse, in a valley at the junction of three rivers, it is a natural stronghold. It was besides supposed to be fortified more perfectly than any other city in the world. A ring of twelve forts surrounded it, six of them large and powerful, six not so powerful and smaller.

One weakness, however, as General Emmich, commander of the German forces, knew, was the great distance between the forts. The small forts were not placed between the large ones; but two of the smaller works were together on the southwest, two in a ten-mile gap across the northeast, a fifth was between two of the larger forts on the southeast. The three points where the small forts were situated were the places that the enemy planned to attack.

Another weakness was the smallness of the garrison,—74,000 men were needed for the defense of Liége and Namur, and only about a hundred men were stationed in some of the forts.

But the Belgians were equally aware of the weak points. General Leman gave orders to throw up entrenchments between forts and to fill the garrison. Even then, the number of men in the forts was but 25,000, when it should have been at least 50,000.

Yet the Belgian soldiers, following the example of their brave leader, General Leman, did all they could to prepare a strong resistance.

Without any delay, the German commander, on August 5, sent forward his men in the 7th army corps with the purpose of taking Fort Evegnée, the little fort on the southeast. No time was taken to bring up the heavy guns—the Germans thought they would not need them. In this they were mistaken.

Three times they rushed forward, but were repulsed. The third time they reached the Belgian trenches; but, obeying an order to counter-attack, the Belgians rushed out and drove the Germans back, inflicting heavy losses and taking 800 prisoners.

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:

THE DESTRUCTION OF LOUVAINToC

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:

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 MERCIERToC

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."

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: