At seven o’clock on the evening of Sunday, August 2, the German Minister at Brussels presented to the Belgian Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs the Note from his Government demanding as an Act of “friendly neutrality” a free passage through Belgium for the German armies forming the main part of the expeditionary forces against France.

The Note promised to respect the independence and integrity of Belgium at the conclusion of peace. It asked for the temporary surrender, on military grounds, of the fortress of Namur. In the event of refusal, the Note added, Germany would be compelled to treat Belgium as an enemy. Twelve hours were given to the Belgian Government to reply.

The Belgian Cabinet were called together. During those fateful hours the whole future of their country hung in the balance. Compliance with the demand meant that Belgium must sink to a dependency of the German Empire. If in the great War, already opened by Germany’s declaration on July 31 of hostilities against Russia, Germany prevailed, as the passive help of Belgium would assist her most materially to prevail, Belgium, in effect an ally of Germany, would be forced to look to Germany for protection, and to accept the conditions, whatever they might be, on which that protection would be given. In any event, that protection would afford an excuse for a continued, perhaps indefinite, occupation by German troops. That implied, forms apart, the annexation of Belgium. Forms apart, it implied the introduction of Prussian methods and Prussian rule. The native genius of Belgium read, in the brief and peremptory demand from Berlin, a destiny which would reduce 600 years’ struggle for freedom to naught.

Not easy is it to measure the anxiety of that Sunday night during which King Albert and his Ministers weighed their decision. Few meetings of statesmen have been more memorable or more momentous. Of the aims of Germany there could be no doubt. On April 18, 1832, Prussia with Austria had attached her signature to that Guarantee of the neutrality and independence of Belgium which France and Great Britain had already signed, and which Russia signed sixteen days after the acquiescence of the Germanic Powers. By the Treaty of London in 1839, after the settlement of the Luxemburg question between Belgium and Holland the Guarantee was solemnly ratified. In the meantime Germany had come to believe in what Count von Moltke the elder called “the oldest of all rights, the right of the strongest.” Almost coincidently with the presentation of the Note at Brussels the German Chancellor at Berlin was, in conversation with the British Ambassador, describing the Guarantee as “a scrap of paper.” 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 civilisation has been built, and without them its everyday activity would come to an end.

Of what value then was the promise embodied in the Ultimatum?

The promise had no value. Glance at the map of Belgium. It will be seen that the fortress of Namur is as nearly as possible the geographical centre of the country. What would be the substance of Belgian independence if, by “the oldest of all rights,” that strong place was kept by Germany presumably as a barrier against France; actually as the central base of an occupation? Belgian independence would be a shadow.

In their extremity King Albert and his Ministers turned to Great Britain. They had good reason. The independence of modern Belgium is the work of British statesmanship. Great Britain had, in 1831, initiated the Guarantee although France was the first Power to sign it, and Great Britain had always looked upon the Guarantee as a solemn obligation. “We are bound to defend Belgium,” Lord John (then Earl) Russell said in the House of Lords in explaining the policy of the Government in 1870. “I am told that may lead us into danger. I deny that any great danger would exist if the country manfully declared her intention to stand by her treaties, and not to shrink from the performance of her engagements. When the choice is between infamy and honour, I cannot doubt that her Majesty’s Government will pursue the course of honour; the only one worthy of the British people. The main thing is how we can assure Belgium, assure Europe, and assure the world that the great name we have acquired by the constant observation of truth and justice shall not be departed from, and that we shall be in the future what we have been in the past.”

Without distinction of party that embodies the consistent attitude British Ministers have taken up since the Guarantee was signed. It proved, without distinction of party, to be the resolve of British statesmen and the British people still. In the exchange of despatches which took place between Brussels and London during this critical sitting of the Belgian Cabinet, one thing at any rate was clear. The undivided might and authority of Great Britain and her Empire was, come what may, to be cast on the side of international right and on the side of freedom. When the early light of that summer morning broke upon their deliberations the Belgian Ministry had made up their mind. The dawn after such a night symbolised the colours of their flag—through darkness and trial to liberty. They would face the worst. At 4 a.m. their answer was in the hands of the German Minister waiting to receive it. It was: “No.”

The attack on the neutrality of Belgium, the reply declared, would be a flagrant violation of the rights of nations. To agree to the proposal of Germany meant a sacrifice of national honour. By every possible means Belgium was resolved to resist aggression.A

Any other answer was impossible. That fact, however, does not detract from the splendid bravery of the refusal. The Belgians have paid a high price for freedom. Ever since commerce and the arts found there their first foothold in Northern Europe, the flourishing cities and fertile fields of Belgium have been the lodestar of political adventurers and needy despoilers. They have been the sport of intrigues and royal marriages. They have been fought for by Burgundian, Spaniard, Austrian, Frenchman, Dutchman, and German. But throughout their chequered history the spirit of freedom, and the hope of shaping their own destinies was never crushed out.

In 1832 a new era began. This land, a marvel of human industry, where beautiful cities rich in monuments of art and devotion had sprung up amid ancient swamps; a land turned by patient labour from a desolation into a garden, was at length assured of peace. It was happy in the choice of public-spirited rulers. With unsparing energy and devotion to the common good, Leopold the First threw himself into the work of repairing the heavy ravages of war. He promoted the first railway on the Continent of Europe. He encouraged industry and education. He fostered commerce. Under his wise government the roads of Belgium became the best in Europe. The navigable waterways and canals were improved until they reached a total of over 1,000 miles. The rich mineral resources of the country were opened up. The work thus begun by the first King of the Belgians has been continued by his successors. No record of public spirit and public service has added greater lustre to a Royal House. “The people of Belgium,” said an English statesman, “have been governed with wisdom, with fairness, and with due regard to their national character, and they reward such treatment by devoted loyalty to their king and firm attachment to their constitution.”

The decision now taken still to put freedom first meant undoing all the results laboriously won during nearly eighty years of tranquillity. Yet neither King Albert nor his Ministers wavered. And the Belgian people were as firm as they. With Englishmen the love of liberty is commonly passive. They feel their freedom to be secure. Only when challenged does their love of freedom flame into passion. But the Belgians know that their freedom lives under challenge. The shadow of Prussian conscription lay athwart their door. That iron and materialistic system which takes its steady toll of a country’s manhood, and crushes national spirit like a Chinese boot, has been the dread of Belgium, as it has been the dread of Holland for a generation. It was not forgotten that the designs of Prussia upon Belgium were no idea of yesterday. More than five months elapsed before diplomatic pressure brought Prussia in 1832 to put her name to the “scrap of paper” she has now repudiated. Count von Moltke made a special study of Belgium and Holland as of Poland. The inference is obvious. Had it not been for the firm front shown by Great Britain in 1870, the German occupation of Belgium would long ago have been an accomplished fact.

In 1870 Prussia did not feel herself strong enough to face France and Great Britain alone. Elated by the unexpected results of the war of 1870, and attributing them wholly to her own prowess instead of largely to the unpreparedness of France, her designs against the Netherlands were revived. Not France was the obstacle feared, but Great Britain. If we are to seek for the true reason of the anti-British spirit fostered in Germany, and certainly not discountenanced by official influence, it will be found in Great Britain standing in the way of this design. Colonies and welt-politik were the open talk of Pan-Germanism, but expansion east and west on the Continent of Europe was the definite objective of the plans so minutely prepared at Berlin; and of the costly and extensive apparatus of espionage spread like a network over Europe. This was the dream of riches before the eyes of the German subaltern as he ate the meal of a few pence which his “Spartan poverty” compelled him to take in a cheap cafÉ, and puzzled how to live without falling into debt.

We need not search far for evidence. If the reader looks at the map of western Germany he will see that a bunch of railway-lines stretch to half a dozen points of the compass east of Aix-la-Chapelle like the extended fingers of a hand. They link Aix with eastern, northern, and southern Germany. Now Aix is not a great commercial centre. It is merely a watering-place. There is no more reason why Aix should be a huge railway-centre with vast sidings, and miles of platforms than, say, Wiesbaden. But these are not commercial railways. So far as ordinary traffic goes their construction represents almost a dead loss.

The railways are military and strategical. Regarding their construction one or two interesting facts have to be noted. The first is that their construction began just after the Boer War broke out; was almost coincident indeed with the famous telegram of the Kaiser on British reverses. The second fact is that the surveys, plans, and estimates for these railways must have been made long before, and been waiting in a pigeon-hole for a convenient opportunity.

Now ever since the days of the Great Elector Frederick William the affairs of Prussia have been administered with an economy which might almost be called parsimony. It is utterly foreign to Prussian spirit and tradition to spend millions of money without very good reason for it. Remarkably enough, another bunch of these railways, equally without ordinary traffic, converge upon the frontier of Holland.

Just, as Scharnhorst was the inventor of the German universal service system, and von Hindersin the organiser of their artillery, so von Moltke was perhaps the first military man who appreciated thoroughly the importance of railways in war, and their value in that rapid hurling of masses of troops into a hostile country before its defence can be put upon a war-footing, which is the corner-stone of German strategy.

No doubt, then, can be entertained as to the true object of these railway enterprises. That they were not undertaken until it was believed Great Britain had ceased to be a serious obstacle, at all events in a land campaign, is confirmed by the nearly coincident change in naval policy which led Germany into heavy ship-building programmes. Great Britain was still a serious obstacle at sea. Therefore a navy had to be built big enough to render her acquiescent. Great Britain acquiescent, and Austria compliant, France and Russia, the remaining signatories to the Guarantee, might be dealt with, it was thought, without fear of the result.

The outlay was heavy, but the hoped-for return was great. The Netherlands are a rich prize. Not merely their industrious and ingenious population, but their taxable capacity would make the German Empire easily the head State of Europe. If Holland has not the valuable coal and iron mines of Belgium, she has an important mercantile marine, and most valuable colonies, including a possession in India. The economic importance of the Netherlands to Germany, and possession of the ports of Amsterdam, Rotterdam, and Antwerp, is manifest. A vast expansion of over-sea trade; a host of new and lucrative employments for German bureaucrats, made this sacrifice by a parsimonious people seem well worth while.

But there are other considerations. Belgium has been the cockpit of Europe, because Belgium, as a military base, has almost unrivalled advantages. Possession or occupation of Belgium—they are much the same thing—means command of its wealth of resources, and of its 3,400 or more miles of excellent main roads. Seizure of these is a great weight in the scale. A powerful army based on Belgium dominates France and more especially Paris. France could be reduced by it to a state of tutelage. Conversely, of course, a great French army based on Belgium would have the Lower Rhine at its mercy, and could “bottle up” Germany more effectively even than a blockade of her coast. That was, in part, how Napoleon held down Prussia. Plainly the neutrality and independence of Belgium is the one common-sense solution; and not less plainly the interests of Great Britain are vitally involved. Doubt as to the aims of Germany had long before been cleared up in responsible quarters informed of the facts. “The cynical violation of the neutrality of Belgium,” Mr. Asquith said in his speech at the Guildhall, “was after all but a step—the first step—in a deliberate policy of what, if not the immediate, the ultimate, and the not far distant aim was to crush the independence and the autonomy of the Free States of Europe. First Belgium, then Holland and Switzerland—countries, like our own, imbued with and sustained by the spirit of liberty—were one after another to be bent to the yoke.”

It was hardly necessary for General von Bernhardi, in his book “The Next War,” to declare that the plan of the German General Staff was to march upon France through Belgium. In truth, he disclosed a secret that was as open as anything could be. The fortification by France of her eastern frontier, threatening to convert a campaign against France into a war of obstacles, at all events at the outset, defeated what has already been alluded to as the corner-stone of German strategy. A war of obstacles would not only allow France to gather her strength and to dispose of it where it would be most effective, but it would enable her to meet in the field a foe already shaken by the effort, and by the inevitably heavy losses incurred in breaking the barrier. In a word, the odds in such a campaign would be so much against the invader that for Germany an attack made upon those lines was as good as hopeless.

That, of course, was as well-known in Paris as in Berlin. It was no surprise, therefore, when von Bernhardi published his “disclosure.” The real object of the disclosure was to prevent the statesmen concerned from taking it seriously. So long as such a plan was with good reason suspected of being entertained secretly at Berlin, it was to be reckoned with. When it was given to the world in a frothy and bombastic book, it would probably be felt to have lost its weight. The device apparently succeeded. France, relying upon the neutrality of Belgium, left her north-eastern frontier practically open. Of the barrier fortresses, Maubeuge alone was adapted to resist a siege with modern artillery. As a fact, we know now that the device of giving away the secret did not succeed. On the contrary, it inspired the counter-plan which led the German armies to disaster.

Nevertheless, until the ultimatum was presented to the Government of Belgium few responsible men believed that Germany would go to the length of tearing up her own pledge.

In the face of that ultimatum, a country not more than one-eighth the area of Great Britain, and with a population less than that of Greater London, had to face a mighty military Empire which had sedulously spread the tradition that its armies were invincible. No wonder Germany reckoned on compliance, and all that compliance implied. It was much as if we ourselves had been suddenly challenged for national life and liberty by the world at large, with the certainty added of an immediate invasion. All the same, the Belgians did not flinch. They proved themselves worthy of the spirit of their fathers.

All this was involved in that “Scrap of Paper.”