Now It Can Be Told

our younger sons. Let us hand over to justice those who will continue the slaughter of our youth!” There was no forgiveness, no generous instinct, no large-hearted common sense in any combatant nation of Europe. Like wolves they had their teeth in one another’s throats, and would not let go, though all bloody and exhausted, until one should fall at the last gasp, to be mangled by the others. Yet in each nation, even in Germany, there were men and women who saw the folly of the war and the crime of it, and desired to end it by some act of renunciation and repentance, and by some uplifting of the people’s spirit to vault the frontiers of hatred and the barbed wire which hedged in patriotism. Some of them were put in prison. Most of them saw the impossibility of counteracting the forces of insanity which had made the world mad, and kept silent, hiding their thoughts and brooding over them. The leaders of the nations continued to use mob-passion as their argument and justification, excited it anew when its fires burned low, focused it upon definite objectives, and gave it a sense of righteousness by the high-sounding watchwords of liberty, justice, honor, and retribution. Each side proclaimed Christ as its captain and invoked the blessing and aid of the God of Christendom, though Germans were allied with Turks and France was full of black and yellow men. The German people did not try to avert their ruin by denouncing the criminal acts of their war lords nor by deploring the cruelties they had committed. The Allies did not help them to do so, because of their lust for bloody vengeance and their desire for the spoils of victory. The peoples shared the blame of their rulers because they were not nobler than their rulers. They cannot now plead ignorance or betrayal by false ideals which duped them, because character does not depend on knowledge, and it was the character of European peoples which failed in the crisis of the world’s fate, so that they followed the callback of the beast in the jungle rather than the voice of the Crucified One whom they pretended to adore.

III

The character of European peoples failed in common sense and in Christian charity. It did not fail in courage to endure great agonies, to suffer death largely, to be obedient to the old tradition of patriotism and to the stoic spirit of old fighting races.

In courage I do not think there was much difference between the chief combatants. The Germans, as a race, were wonderfully brave until their spirit was broken by the sure knowledge of defeat and by lack of food. Many times through all those years they marched shoulder to shoulder, obedient to discipline, to certain death, as I saw them on the Somme, like martyrs. They marched for their Fatherland, inspired by the spirit of the German race, as it had entered their souls by the memory of old German songs, old heroic ballads, their German home life, their German women, their love of little old towns on hillsides or in valleys, by all the meaning to them of that word Germany, which is like the name of England to us⁠—who is fool enough to think otherwise?⁠—and fought often, a thousand times, to the death, as I saw their bodies heaped in the fields of the Somme and round their pillboxes in Flanders and in the last phase of the war behind the Hindenburg line round their broken batteries on the way of Mons and Le Cateau. The German people endured years of semi-starvation and a drain of blood greater than any other fighting people⁠—two million dead⁠—before they lost all vitality, hope, and pride and made their abject surrender. At the beginning they were out for conquest, inspired by arrogance and pride. Before the end they fought desperately to defend the Fatherland from the doom which cast its black shadow on them as it drew near. They were brave, those Germans, whatever the brutality of individual men and the cold-blooded cruelty of their commanders.

The courage of France is to me like an old heroic song, stirring the heart. It was medieval in its complete adherence to the faith of valor and its spirit of sacrifice for La Patrie. If patriotism were enough as the gospel of life⁠—Nurse Cavell did not think so⁠—France as a nation was perfect in that faith. Her people had no doubt as to their duty. It was to defend their sacred soil from the enemy which had invaded it. It was to hurl the brutes back from the fair fields they had ravaged and despoiled. It was to liberate their brothers and sisters from the outrageous tyranny of the German yoke in the captured country. It was to seek vengeance for bloody, foul, and abominable deeds.

In the first days of the war France was struck by heavy blows which sent her armies reeling back in retreat, but before the first battle of the Marne, when her peril was greatest, when Paris seemed doomed, the spirit of the French soldiers rose to a supreme act of faith⁠—which was fulfilled when Foch attacked in the center, when Manoury struck on the enemy’s flank and hundreds of thousands of young Frenchmen hurled themselves, reckless of life, upon the monster which faltered and then fled behind the shelter of the Aisne. With bloodshot eyes and parched throats and swollen tongues, blind with sweat and blood, mad with the heat and fury of attack, the French soldiers fought through that first battle of the Marne and saved France from defeat and despair.

After that, year after year, they flung themselves against the German defense and died in heaps, or held their lines, as at Verdun, against colossal onslaught, until the dead lay in masses. But the living said, “They shall not pass!” and kept their word.

The people of France⁠—above all, the women of France⁠—behind the lines,