the wonders of Flemish painting, their eyes light up in pious adoration.  From the lips of the troops that marched from three streets into the parade plaza in Brussels there burst, when the last man stood in the ranks—­and burst spontaneously—­a German song.  Out of all the trenches joyous cheers of thanks rise for the fearless musicmaster who, amid the raging fire, through horns and trumpets, wrapped in earth-colored gray, leads his band in blowing marches and battle songs and songs of dancing into the ears of the Frenchmen, harkening with pleasure.

Not only for the territories that are to feed their children and grandchildren is this warrior host battling, but also for the conquering triumph of the German genius, for the forces of sentiment that rise from Goethe and Beethoven and Bismarck and Schiller and Kant and Kleist, working on throughout time and eternity.

And never was there a war more just; never one the result of which could bring such happiness as must this, even for the conquered.  In order that that spirit might conquer we were obliged to forge the mightiest weapons for it.  Over the meadows of the Scheldt is wafted the word of the King: 

    How proud I feel my heart flame
    When in every German land
    I find such a warrior band! 
    For German land, the German sword! 
    Thus be the empire’s strength preserved!

This strength was begotten by that spirit.  The fashioning of such weapons was possible only because millions of industrious persons, with untiring and unremitting labors, transformed the poor Germany into the rich Germany, which was then able to prepare and conduct the war as a great industry.  And what the spirit created once again serves the spirit.  It shall not lay waste, nor banish us free men into slavery, but rather it shall call forth to the light of heaven a new, richer soul of life out of the ruins of a storm-tossed civilization.  It shall, it must, it will conquer new provinces for the majesty of the noble German spirit (Deutschheit) that never will grow chill and numb, as the Roman did.  Otherwise—­and even though unnumbered billions flowed into the Rhine—­the expense of this war would be shamefully wasted.

Our army did not set out to conquer Belgian territory.

In the war against four great powers, the west front of which alone stretched from the North Sea to the Alps, from Ghent almost to Geneva, it seemed impossible to achieve on Europe’s soil a victory that would strengthen the roots of the conquering race.  Gold cannot indemnify for the loss of the swarming young life which we were obliged to mourn even after ten weeks of war; and if, amid ten thousand of the fine fellows who died, there was even a single creative mind, then thousands of millions could not pay for its destruction.