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

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

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

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

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

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