“Ancient and beautiful Louvain, a town of forty-five thousand people, a seat of learning, famous for its ancient and beautiful churches and other buildings, many of them dating from the fifteenth century, has been utterly destroyed by one of the Kaiser’s commanders in a moment of passion to cover the blunder of his own men. The excuse for this unpardonable act of barbarity and vandalism is that a discomfited band of German troops returning to Louvain were fired upon by the people of the town, who had been disarmed a week earlier. The truth is that the Germans, making for the town in disorder, were fired upon by their friends in occupation of Louvain, a mistake by no means rare in war. The assumption of the German commander was, in the circumstances, so wide of probability that it can only be supposed that in the desire to conceal the facts the first idea which occurred to him was seized upon as an excuse for an act unparalleled in the history of civilized people.
“The Emperor William has stated that the only means of preventing surprise attacks from the civil population has been to interfere with unrelenting severity and to create examples which, by their frightfulness, would be a warning to the whole country. The case of Louvain is such an ‘interference,’ without even the miserable excuse suggested. Louvain is miles from the scene of real fighting. In International Law it is recognized that ‘the only legitimate end which the States should aim at in war is the weakening of the military forces of the enemy.’ And the rules under the annex to Convention IV. of 1907, which expand and demand the provision of the Declaration of Brussels, lay down that any destruction or seizure of enemies’ property, not imperatively called for by military necessities, is forbidden.
“In destroying the ancient town of Louvain, the German troops have committed a crime for which there can be no atonement, and Humanity has suffered a loss which can never be repaired.”
Incredible Wickedness.
But even the above statement does not relate one half of the fearful crimes against property and human life committed by these uniformed ruffians in the ill-fated city, perpetrated by hosts of armed men against innocent and helpless non-combatants, aged men, defenceless women, and children. The houses and buildings of the town were without doubt deliberately set on fire. Helped by petrol poured on by brutal Teuton soldiers, the flames spread rapidly and fiercely.
“For every vile deed wrought under the impious benedictions of the monarch who is ravaging Europe ample reparation shall be exacted.”—Times.
Everyone who offered opposition was killed; everyone found in the possession of arms shot. Wives saw their husbands murdered before their eyes, mothers their sons. Men were brutally dragged away from their weeping wives and children, propped up against a wall and shot, or ruthlessly cut down where they stood. German soldiers, encouraged by their officers, looted where and how they liked; the inhabitants were in some cases driven to take refuge on the roofs of their houses, which were set on fire. From burning houses were to be heard the agonized cries of those perishing in the conflagration, which was destined to reduce the city to ashes.
Many authenticated stories of these terrible happenings have reached London. At first they seemed unbelievable, but each day brings further corroboration. I take the liberty of reproducing a despatch of Mr. Hugh Martin, the special correspondent of the Daily News and Leader, whose vivid narrative brings home to us the details of the sufferings of the poor victims of these abominable proceedings:—
“Stories of the sacking of Louvain, which are almost unbelievable in their horror, reach here (Rotterdam) from the frontier. One of the most vivid is that of an assistant in a bicycle shop, who, though a Dutchman, was given special facilities for escape owing to his being mistaken for a German.
“ ‘At mid-day last Tuesday,’ he begins, ‘a fearful uproar broke out in the streets while we were at dinner, and the crackle of musketry was soon followed by the roar of artillery near at hand.