A French statesman, Mr. Louis Barthou, has summed up the War aims of France in the three words: "Restitution, Reparation, Guarantees."

Restitution means the surrender of all occupied territories, of the territories occupied by force during forty-seven months, as well as the territories occupied by force during forty-seven years. Between the five departments forming Flanders-Argonne and the five departments forming Alsace-Lorraine, France is unable to make any distinction. France wants Metz back on the same ground upon which she wants Lille back. If Germany is to keep Metz she might as well keep Lille. Her claim to Strasbourg is not better than her claim to Cambrai.

And this is a thing which "the man in the street" fails sometimes to understand. He says: "Yes, we know, Alsace-Lorraine was taken from France forty-seven years ago by violence, without the people of the occupied territories being consulted. But how did France acquire Alsace-Lorraine in previous times? Was it not also by force after successful wars? Is it not a fact that Alsace-Lorraine, in days of yore, belonged to Germany, and that, historically, Alsace is a German land?"

No, it is precisely not a fact. It is the contrary of a fact and of truth. And this must be made clear, once for all.

When France demands Alsace-Lorraine, she does not do so because she will have some more departments in her geographical configuration, but because these territories belonged to France during centuries and centuries, because they were taken from France by force forty-seven years ago, because the people of these territories not only were never consulted, but also protested against Prussian domination—because, in a word, it is a question of right.

In a speech, which he delivered on the 24th of January, 1918, before the Reichstag, Count von Hertling, the Imperial German Chancellor, expressed himself as follows:

It is doubtful that Count von Hertling will ever leave in history the memory of a great Chancellor; but, if he does, it will be no doubt in the History of Ignorance and Falsehood. Never has a statesman in so few words uttered with such impudence so many untruths!

Historically speaking, there are in Alsace-Lorraine three parts: there is Lorraine, there is Alsace, and there is the southern part of Alsace including the town of Mulhouse.

As regards the town of Mulhouse, the question is most simple and clear. The town never, at any time, belonged to Germany or to the Germans. It belonged to Switzerland and, at the end of the 18th century, during the French revolution, the town, after a referendum, decided to become French. A delegation was sent to Paris, to the French Parliament, then called the Conseil des Cinq-Cents, and the delegation expressed publicly, officially, the desire of Mulhouse to be part of the French territory. There was a deliberation, and unanimously the Conseil des Cinq-Cents voted a motion couched in the following terms: "The French Republic accepts the vow of the citizens of Mulhouse."

A few weeks later the French authorities, among scenes of unparalleled enthusiasm, made their entry into the town, and the flag of Mulhouse was wrapped up in a tricolor box bearing the inscription: "The Republic of Mulhouse rests in the bosom of the French Republic."

Alsace—the rest of Alsace—became French in 1648, more than two centuries before the war of 1870. It became French according to a treaty. The treaty was signed by the Austrian Emperor, because Alsace belonged to the Austrian Imperial Family. And it is not without interest to quote an article (article 75) of the treaty:

When today one reads that treaty, one has the impression that more than two centuries ago the Austrian Emperor had already a sort of apprehension that later on another Emperor would interfere in the matter and create mischief!

Fifty-three years after that treaty, the Prussians, who dislike seeing anything in some one's else possession, tried to recover Alsace. Their own ambassador tried to dissuade them, and in 1701 Count Schmettau, ambassador of Prussia in Paris, wrote to his king:

"We cannot take Alsace, because it is well known that her inhabitants are more French than the Parisians...."

Could anything answer better the affirmation that "Alsatians are of German tendency?"

Lorraine became French in 1552, more than three centuries before the war of 1870. Lorraine became French not after a war and as the result of a conquest, but according to a treaty signed by all the Protestant Princes of Germany, in which we find the following sentence, which is really worthy of meditation: "We find just that the King of France, as promptly as possible, takes possession of the towns of Toul, Metz, and Verdun, where the German language has never been used." So that the Germans themselves put on the same line the towns of Metz, Toul, and Verdun, and recognized that the town of Metz was not German.

All this is extremely simple and clear. What happened several centuries later is equally clear.

When, in 1871, on February 16th, the deputies of Alsace-Lorraine learned that their provinces would be given up to Germany, they assembled, and in an historical document which was signed by all of them—there were thirty-six—they protested in the following terms:

And, three years later, in January, 1874, when for the first time Alsace and Lorraine had to elect deputies, they reiterated the same protest. They elected fifteen new deputies; some were Protestants, some were Catholics, one of them was the Bishop of Strasbourg, but they unanimously signed a declaration which was read at the Tribune of the German Reichstag. The declaration was the following:

I beg to call the attention of the reader to two sentences of this protestation:

"Europe cannot allow a people to be seized like a flock of sheep," wrote the deputies of 1871. "People are not mere goods which may be sold or with which you may trade," proclaimed the deputies of 1874. Now you will find, nearly word for word, the same thought expressed in the message of President Wilson to Congress, when he wrote: "No right exists anywhere to hand peoples about from sovereignty to sovereignty as if they were property."

That right does not exist, and it is because that right was outrageously violated in 1871 that France wants Alsace-Lorraine to come back to her. It is because, in 1871, Right has been wronged that today Right must be reinstated.

Some people have spoken of a referendum. Why a referendum? Was there any referendum in 1871? And how could there be a referendum? How could you include in this referendum the hundreds of thousands of Alsatians who have fled from German domination? How could you exclude from this referendum the hundreds of thousands of Germans who have come to Alsace?

The referendum was rendered by Mulhouse in 1798. Will that town be obliged to vote again? And how many times will it be obliged to vote for France? The referendum was rendered by the whole of Alsace and Lorraine in 1871 and 1874, by their elected deputies, when they unanimously protested against the German annexation.

It was rendered twenty years ago by the census which was taken by the Germans themselves in Alsace. According to that census, in 1895, notwithstanding the fact that the teaching of French was prohibited in the public schools, there were 160,000 people in Alsace speaking French. And five years later, in 1900, according to another census there were 200,000 people in Alsace speaking French. And of these 200,000 people, there were more than 52,000 children.

The referendum was also rendered by Alsatians who, before this war, engaged themselves in the French Army, and became officers. According to the official statistics of the French War Department, there were in 1914 in the French Army 20 generals, 145 superior officers, and 400 ordinary officers of Alsatian origin. On the other side, in the German Army in 1914, there were four officers of Alsatian origin.

And finally the referendum was rendered only one year before the present war, in 1913, when Herr von Jagow, then Prefect of Police in Berlin, made the following extraordinary declaration: "We Germans are obliged in Alsace to behave ourselves as if we were in an enemy's country...." What better referendum could you wish than such an admission by a German statesman?

Moreover, the question of Alsace-Lorraine is not only a French question, but also an international question. It is not only France who has sworn to herself to recover Alsace-Lorraine—it is all the Allies who have sworn to France that she should recover it.

"We mean to stand by the French democracy to the death," solemnly declared Mr. Lloyd-George on the 5th of January, 1918, "in the demand they make for a reconsideration of the great wrong of 1871, when, without any regard to the wishes of the population, two French provinces were torn from the side of France and incorporated in the German Empire."

And, three days later, using nearly the same words, President Wilson, in his luminous message to Congress, said: "The wrong done to France by Prussia in 1871, in the matter of Alsace-Lorraine, which has unsettled the peace of the world for nearly fifty years should be righted, in order that peace may once more be made secure in the interest of all."

All the statesmen who have spoken since the beginning of the war in the name of the Allied Powers have attested that this war is not only a struggle for the liberty of nations and the respect due to nationalities, but also an effort toward definite peace. Their words only appeared fit for stirring up the enthusiasm of the crowds, and fortifying their will of sacrifice, because they gave expression to their feelings and prayers. If they are forgotten by those who uttered them they will be remembered by those who heard and treasured them.

In September, 1914, Winston Churchill said: "We want this war to remodel the map of Europe according to the principle of nationalities, and the real wish of the people living in the contested territories. After so much bloodshed we wish for a peace which will free races, and restore the integrity of nations.... Let us have done with the armaments, the fear of strain, intrigues, and the perpetual threat of the horrible present crisis. Let us make the regulation of European conflicts just and natural." The French republic, of one mind with the Allies, proclaimed through its authorized representatives that this war is a war of deliverance. "France," said Mr. Stephen Pichon, Foreign Minister, "will not lay down arms before having shattered Prussian militarism, so as to be able to rebuild on a basis of justice a regenerated Europe." And Mr. Paul Deschanel, the President of the Chamber, continued: "The French are not only defending their soil, their homes, the tombs of their ancestors, their sacred memories, their ideal works of art and faith and all the graceful, just, and beautiful things their genius has lavished forth: they are defending, too, the respect of treaties, the independence of Europe, and human freedom. We want to know if all the effort of conscience during centuries will lead to its slavery, if millions of men are to be taken, given up, herded at the other side of a frontier and condemned to fight for their conquerors and masters against their country, their families, and their brothers.... The world wishes to live at last, Europe to breathe, and the nations mean to dispose freely of themselves."

These engagements will be kept. But they will have been kept only when Alsace-Lorraine—the Belgium of 1871, as Rabbi Stephen Wise has called it—has been returned to France. Then, and only then, will there be real peace. Then, and only then, will the "Testament" of Paul DeroulÉde have been executed:

When our war victorious is o'er,
And our country has won back its rank,
Then with the evils war brings in its train
Will disappear the hatred the conqueror trails.
Then our great France, full of love without spite
Sowing fresh springing-corn 'neath her new-born laurels,
Will welcome Work, father of Fortune,
And sing Peace, mother of lengthy deeds.
Then will come Peace, calm, serene, and awful,
Crushing down arms, but upholding intellect;
For we shall stand out as just-hearted conquerors,
Only taking back what was robbed from us.
And our nation, weary of mourning,
Will soothe the living while praising the dead,
And nevermore will we hear the name of battle
And our children shall learn to unlearn hate.

Just as France will not accept peace without restitution, she will not accept peace without reparation.

Germany can never make reparation for all the ruin, all the destruction, all the sacrilege she has wrought. There can be no reparation for the Cathedral of Rheims, for the Hotel de Ville at Arras, for the deaths of thousands of innocent beings, for the slaughter of women and children.

But there can be reparation for the damage done to machinery. The treasures of art which, contrary to all law and right, Germany has taken into her own country, can be returned. They can return the funds illegally stolen from the vaults of municipalities, banks and public societies. They can pay off the receipts which they themselves have signed for the objects they have compelled the owners to hand over to them.

Every chÂteau in the north of France, places such as those of the Prince of Monaco, of Mr. Balny d'Avricourt, that of Coucy, have been looted and pillaged. Antique furniture, paintings by the great masters, sculptures, historic pieces of tapestry have been carried off into Germany. Tapestries, sculptures, furniture and paintings must come back from Germany. The museums at St. Quentin and Lille have seen their collections of value to art and science carried off; these collections must come back. Factories have been robbed of their pumps, of their equipment, of their trucks; other pumps, other equipment, other trucks must be put in their place. Otherwise, nothing will prevent that in the future other expeditions will come to ransack other countries. A bold move towards Venice allowed base hands to be laid on the most beautiful works of art humanity had produced. A fortunate descent on the shores of Long Island or of New Jersey would allow the Metropolitan Museum to be looted.

At Ham, in the Somme district, the Grand Duke of Hesse, the former Empress of Russia's brother, one morning entered the shop of an antiquarian and picked out a number of ancient bibelots and vases, ordering that they be sent to his quarters. The owner thought it would be wise to state the price of the lot:

"The price," exclaimed the Grand Duke, "there's nothing for me to pay for! Everything here belongs to me."

But the owner protested, since, as he said, he did own the goods.

"Here," said the Grand Duke, "this will pay you for them."

And he handed the man his card with the words "good for so many francs" written on it; also his signature.

The number of francs mentioned on the Grand Duke of Hesse's card will have to be paid in full after the war. So will the thousands of requisitions signed by persons of less importance—governors, generals, colonels, majors, men who thought they could ransack all Belgium and the north of France with impunity, giving in exchange mere scraps of paper.

The great cities of Lille, Roubaix, Tourcoing, Laon and MeziÈres have been compelled to pay exorbitant levies for war purposes, which have amounted to billions of francs. This was contrary to all international law and to the Hague Tribunal's regulations. The funds thus illegally extorted will have to be repaid in full. No indemnities—that is understood and is perfectly just. It is precisely because there will not have to be any indemnities that the indemnities already extorted will have to be made good.

Finally, just as France cannot make peace without receiving restitution and reparation, she cannot make peace without receiving certain guarantees.

Here we approach one of the most complex and difficult aspects of the entire problem, because we find ourselves in the presence of the famous League of Nations. President Wilson, one of the most noble and generous spirits, one of the greatest figures that has appeared in the entire war, launched if not the idea at least the first definite statement thereof.... And this statement has awakened in all hearts, tired of carnage and slaughter, the same infinite hope that words of goodness, liberty and fraternity always awaken, which evoke the thought of the supreme end towards which humanity tends. The statement has done better than merely move men's emotions, it has moved men's thoughts. It has kindled in them a ray of hope which tends to shine more brightly every day in that they know that the civilized world will be truly a civilized world only when it is formed and fashioned in the likeness of a civilized nation. In a civilized nation no one has the right to kill another man, to obtain justice by using force, to commit murder, nor to raise armed bands to shoot, blow up or kill with poisoned gas other men. Tribunals exist to appease differences and to prevent fighting; every citizen is associated with every other citizen in the common cause of security and progress.

In a civilized world no nation has the right to massacre, no nation ought to have the right to resort to the use of force to obtain justice, no nation ought to have the right to attack, harm, or destroy another nation. There ought to be tribunals to appease the differences of peoples as well as those of individuals; every nation ought to be associated with every other nation to assure the progress of the entire world.

This theory is not only appealing, it is irrefutable. But it is a law for this earth that the most profoundly just and true theories, those which have been most scientifically demonstrated, encounter, when put into practice, obstacles which have not been surmounted and are often insurmountable.

President Wilson, who is not only a great jurist and a noble idealist, but who also has that genius for realization which is a characteristic of all America, has not failed to appreciate the difficulties which the League of Nations would encounter were it put into practice. And if, in his messages, he has insisted with a force that is every day more eloquent on the necessity of tackling the problem; he has never given a detailed solution for it.

He has done better than that, for he has swept aside certain factors which would have made it absolutely impossible. On the second, of April, 1917, in his immortal declaration of war, he formally declared that "no autocratic government could be trusted to keep faith within a partnership of nations or observe its covenants. It must be a league of honor, a partnership of opinion. Intrigue would eat its vitals away; the plottings of inner circles who could plan what they would and render account to no one, would be a corruption seated at its very heart. Only a free people can hold their purpose and their honor steady to a common end, and prefer the interests of mankind to any narrow interest of their own."

These are admirable words of truth and of philosophic depth, words which deserve to be graven in stone. No autocracy, then, in the League of Nations, no German militarism nor Austrian imperialism in it. No universal league of nations, even, but a limited society, a society of democracies!

Certain hasty critics have observed neither the same prudence nor logic as President Wilson. They have been farther from the truth, much farther from the truth. They have falsified his text, as do all commentators. They have desired to build complete in all details the League of Nations, which only existed in outline. They have succeeded in showing how difficult the construction would be, and they have only been able to set up a house of cards which the first breath of wind would knock down.

For example, this is how one of the most eminent French socialists, M. Albert Thomas, a man who has given abundant proof of his practical experience and actual talents, formerly the French Minister of Munitions, depicts the League of Nations:

I have cited the passage at length in order to give the critic's argument its widest scope. But, alas, who does not see the argument's fallacy? Who does not perceive that this reËnforced skyscraper is a cardboard column liable to fall with the first push that is given it?

Moreover, from the very beginning, the originator of the idea of the society of nations admits the hypothesis of a war and presupposes all the nations in the league are making war against another nation. Even with the society of nations there will still be wars. Even with the society of nations there will be no guarantee of absolute peace.

So we are shown the spectacle, in case of war, of all the nations making war at once, without the least hesitation, without delay, without any discussion, against the people that disturbs the peace of the world. Is it a certainty that this unanimity would result? Is it a certainty that there would be no falling away, no delay? And, granting that there would be none of this, is it a certainty that irremediable catastrophes could be avoided? To consider once more M. Thomas' example of the war of 1914, let us suppose that there had been at that time a society of nations, that England had had an army, that the United States had had an army, and that the Anglo-American army had not lost a day nor an hour. Is it a certainty that they would have prevented the Germans from being at the gates of LiÈge on the seventh of August, in Brussels on the nineteenth of August, and before Paris on the second of September? And if today France, England, America, Italy, Japan and four-fifths of the civilized world, in spite of the treasure of heroism and effort that has been expended, have not been able to prevent the present result, is it possible that this would have been obtained with the assistance of Switzerland, the Scandinavian nations, Holland and Spain?

"The difference," continues M. Thomas, "is that there would not have been the possibility of any discussion of the violation of rights committed by Germany, nor upon what nation rests the responsibility for causing the war." But is that so sure? How was there any discussion in 1914 of the violation of Belgium by Germany? Did not Germany herself, in the teeth of all the world, hurl the avowal of this violation when von Bethmann-Hollweg, in the Reichstag, cynically declared: "We have just invaded Belgium.... Yes, we know that it is contrary to international law; but we were compelled by necessity. And necessity knows no law." What international tribunal's verdict could have the force of this avowal from the lips of the guilty man? However, the world has not moved, the world has not trembled, the world is not now up in arms. And who would guarantee that another time when the case will be perhaps less flagrant, the crime more obscure, the aggressor less cynical, the world will tremble and rise in arms?

Moreover, is it always possible to determine the responsibility for war's origin? Is it always possible, before an international tribunal of arbitration, to throw the proper light and all the light on the course events have taken? Will the judges always be unanimous?

Take the case of the last Balkan War in 1912. Is it possible today, from a six years' perspective, to establish with any degree of certitude the reasons for its outbreak and determine without hesitation the responsibility for it? Can you affirm with any degree of certainty that a court composed of American, European and Asiatic jurists would be unanimous in condemning Turkey and exonerating Bulgaria? And tomorrow, if the Ukraine should suddenly hurl itself against the Republic of the Don, or if Finland invaded Great Russia, with your international court would you be really in a way to pronounce a verdict within five days? And if Sweden took Finland's part and Germany took Great Russia's, could you guarantee that Argentina, Japan, Australia and even France would consent to mobilize their fleets and their armies to settle the question of a frontier on the banks of the Neva? Can you guarantee that every war of every Slav republic would have for a correlative the mobilization of the entire world?

And then are you certain that the idea of a society of nations is exactly a new one? Are you certain that there did not exist a society of nations before the outbreak of the present war? Have you never heard that, on the fifteenth of June, 1907, at The Hague, forty-four nations of the civilized world (and Germany was one of the number) assembled and met together to form such a league? Have you never heard of the treaty that was signed then which, according to the wording at the treaty's head, had for its object "fixing the laws and usages at war on the land"? Have you never read the terms of this convention, have you never glanced through the sixty-odd articles which today, in the presence of the nameless horrors in which we lend a hand, offer a prodigious interest to actuality?

Glance over these articles—and let us see how they have been applied:

Article 4 provides that "prisoners of war must be humanely treated. All their personal belongings, except arms, horses, and military papers, remain their property." Now all the prisoners held by Germany have, without exception, been spoiled of their money, of their portfolios, of their rings, of their jewels, of their eyeglasses.

Article 6 says that "the state may employ as workmen the prisoners of war," but it is careful in stipulating "that the work must not be excessive and must have nothing whatever to do with operations of war." Article 7 says that "prisoners of war shall be treated as regards board, lodging, and clothing on the same footing as the troops of the Government who captured them." Each of these two articles has been violated since the beginning of the war by the Germans. After the Battle of the Marne, when the advancing French troops of Joffre arrived on the Aisne they found French civilians captured by the Germans and compelled by them to work in the trenches. Moreover, an official report emanating from Mr. Gustave Ador, President of the International Red Cross, now member of the Swiss Federal Council, called the attention of the belligerents as soon as October, 1914, to the bad treatment of the French prisoners in Germany. Each French officer had, as prisoner, a salary of one hundred marks per month, which was not even half of the pay of an under-officer.

Articles 23, 25, 27, and 28 are so interesting that they must be quoted in extenso:

Article 23. In addition to the prohibitions provided by special conventions, it is especially forbidden:

(a) To employ poison or poisoned weapons.

(c) To kill or wound an enemy who, having laid down his arms, or having no longer means of defense, has surrendered at discretion.

(d) To declare that no quarter will be given.

(e) To employ arms, projectiles, or material calculated to cause unnecessary suffering.

(f) To make improper use of a flag of truce, of the national flag, or of the military insignia and uniform of the enemy, as well as the distinctive badges of the Geneva Convention.

(g) To destroy or seize the enemy's property, unless such destruction or seizure be imperatively demanded by the necessities of war.

(h) A belligerent is likewise forbidden to compel the nationals of the hostile party to take part in the operations of war directed against their own country, even if they were in the belligerent's service before the commencement of the war.

Article 25. The attack or bombardment, by whatever means, of towns, villages, dwellings, or buildings which are undefended is prohibited.

Article 27. In sieges and bombardments all necessary steps must be taken to spare, as far as possible, buildings dedicated to religion, art, science, or charitable purposes, historic monuments, hospitals and places where the sick and wounded are collected, provided they are not being used at the time for military purposes.

Article 28. The pillage of a town or place, even when taken by assault, is prohibited.

It seems that the men of The Hague, when they wrote those articles, had a sort of prescience of the future cruelties of war and that they wanted to avoid them. Let us see how far they have succeeded.

It was forbidden to employ poison or poisoned weapons. No later than last spring when the Germans evacuated certain parts of the north of France instructions emanating from the German general headquarters were found in the pocket of many German prisoners or on the dead, and those instructions indicated how the water of the wells was to be poisoned: "Such and such a soldier," ran instructions, "will be in charge of the wells, will throw in each one a sufficient quantity of poison or creosote, or, lacking these, all available filth."

It was forbidden to declare that no quarter would be given. And here is the order of the day issued on August 25, 1914, by General Stenger, commanding the Fifty-eighth German Brigade, to his troops: "After today no more prisoners will be taken. All prisoners are to be killed. Wounded, with or without arms, are to be killed. Even prisoners already grouped in convoys are to be killed. Let not a single living enemy remain behind us."

It was forbidden to pillage a town or locality, even when taken by assault. And on the corpse of the German private Handschumacher (of the Eleventh Battalion of JÄgers, Reserve) in the very earliest days of the war, was found the following diary: "August 8, 1914. Gouvy (Belgium). There, as the Belgians had fired on the German soldiers, we at once pillaged the goods station. Some cases, eggs, shirts, and all eatables were seized. The safe was gutted and the money divided among the men. All securities were torn up."

In fact, pillage and robberies went on on such a high scale during the first months of the war that considerable sums of money were sent from France and Belgium to Germany. A German newspaper, the Berlin Tageblatt, of November 26, 1914, implicitly avowed it when, in a technical article on the military treasury ("Der Zahlmeister im Felde"), it wrote: "It is curious to note that far more money-orders are sent from the theater of operations to the interior of the country than vice versa."

Article 50 of this Hague Convention states that "no general penalty, pecuniary or otherwise, shall be inflicted upon the population on account of the acts of individuals for which they cannot be regarded as jointly and severally responsible." Side by side with this article, it is interesting to reproduce an extract from a proclamation of General von BÜlow, posted up at LiÈge on August 22, 1914: "The inhabitants of the town of Andenne, after having protested their peaceful intentions, treacherously surprised our troops. It is with my full consent that the general in command had the whole place burned, and about a hundred people were shot." Moreover, here is an extract from a proclamation of Major-Commander Dieckmann, posted up at GrivegnÉe on September 8, 1914: "Every one who does not obey at once the word of command, 'Hands up,' is guilty of the penalty of death." And finally here is an extract from a proclamation of Marshal Baron von der Goltz, posted up in Brussels on October 5, 1914: "In future all places near the spot where such acts have taken place [destruction of railway lines or telegraph wires]—no matter whether guilty or not—shall be punished without mercy. With this end in view, hostages have been brought from all places near railway lines exposed to such attacks, and at the first attempt to destroy railway lines, telegraph or telephone lines, they will be immediately shot."

Article 56 of the Hague Convention provides that "the property of municipalities, that of institutions dedicated to religion, charity, and education, to the arts and sciences, even when state property, shall be treated as private property. All seizure of, destruction, or willful damage done to institutions of this character, historical monuments, works of art and science, is forbidden, and should be made the subject of legal proceedings."

Four names, which will be eternally remembered, are here sufficient to answer: there is Rheims and its Cathedral, Louvain and its library, Arras and its Town Hall, Ypres and its bell tower.