The Crime of Louvain.

No words can adequately describe the wave of disgust which swept over the whole of the civilized communities of the world when it became known that the Germans had reduced to ashes the beautiful old city of Louvain. Mr. Asquith has described the sack of Louvain as

This ancient city, the Oxford of Belgium, has been reduced by the new Huns to a heap of ashes. “Every traveller in Belgium,” says Sir William Robertson Nicoll, “will remember the ancient mediÆval town, its wonderful Hotel de Ville, the most perfect piece of architecture in Belgium, the Church of St. Peter, begun in 1425, and the University with its priceless library. All have perished, and why? The civil population had been disarmed, but in a night skirmish German soldiers accidentally fired on their own guard, and it was decided in the panic of the hour to destroy the whole town. A town of forty-five thousand inhabitants, the intellectual metropolis of the Low Countries since the fifteenth century, is now no more than a heap of ashes.”

The wanton destruction of this ancient seat of learning, rich in historic associations, was an act of vandalism almost without parallel in history, a crime not only against humanity, but against the generations of future years.

The restrained and dignified words in which our own Official Press Bureau made known the ruthless sacking of Louvain constitute a fearful indictment of German Militarism, which can give official sanction to such an appalling deed. Here are the words of the Press Bureau:—

“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.

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.

“‘Hearing shrieks from the inhabitants of our streets, I rushed to the window and saw that several houses were already in flames. Soldiers were smashing the shop windows and looting in all directions.

Shot Down Like Rabbits.

“‘As the people rushed into the streets from the burning houses they were shot down like rabbits. With my governor, his wife, and little boy, we fled to the cellar, where I and the boy hid under a pile of tyres, while the manager crept into a chest, and his wife far into a drain, where she stood with water up to her waist for many hours.

“‘Night fell and the sound of shooting in the streets became brisker. I crept out of my hiding-place to get some water, and, peeping out of the window, saw, to my horror, that almost the whole street was in ruins. Then we found that our own house was alight, and it was necessary to choose between bolting and being burnt to death where we were.

“‘I decided to make a dash for it, but the moment I was outside the door three Germans held me up with their revolvers and asked me where I was going. My reply was that I was a German, and that my master and his wife were Germans who had been trapped in the burning house.

“‘Apparently my German was good enough to make them believe my statement, for they promised to give us safe conduct out of the town. Our walk through the streets to the railway station I shall always remember as a walk through hell.

“‘The beautiful town, with its noble buildings, was a sea of flame. Dead bodies lay thick in the streets. Dreadful cries came from many of the houses. It was half-past five on Wednesday morning when we reached the railway station. Soldiers were even then still going about the streets with lighted brands and explosives in their hands, setting alight any buildings that still remained intact.

“‘In the parks they had already begun to bury the dead, but in many cases so shallow were the graves that a large part of each body was still visible. At the railway station we witnessed a truly harrowing spectacle. Fifty citizens, both men and women, had been brought from houses from which the soldiers swore that shots had been fired.

“‘They were lined up in the street, protesting with tears in their eyes that they were innocent. Then came a firing squad. Volley followed volley, and the fifty fell dead where they stood.’

“This appalling story is fully confirmed by an independent despatch from a Dutch journalist who happened to be at Louvain on his way to Brussels. He states that he was standing on Tuesday evening near the railway station at Louvain talking to a German officer, when he was strongly advised to leave the spot, owing to the great danger.

“A group of some five hundred men and women described as hostages were ranked in the open space by the station, and they were informed that for every soldier fired on in the town ten of them would be shot. This arrangement was carried out with true German regard for the punctilious observation of all rules.

“The wretched people sobbed and wrung their hands and fell on their knees, but they might as well have appealed to men of stone.

“Ten by ten as the night wore on they were brought from the ranks and slaughtered, without regard to age or sex, before the eyes of those who remained.

“Accounts differ widely as to the origin of the trouble, some declaring that the German patrols in the city fired on the German troops retreating before a sortie from Antwerp, while others state that stray shots were fired at a commissariat train passing through the town.

“I would draw special attention to the fact that so far as the main facts are concerned both my informants are Dutchmen, who can have no object in spreading anti-German lies.”

Further terrible details are supplied by a cigar manufacturer who happened to be in Louvain about that time. Taken prisoner, he was escorted by German soldiers from the town, which was then one mass of flames, to the neighbouring village of Campenhout, where they witnessed the shooting of seven priests.

“Altogether we were seventy-three men, handcuffed like criminals,” he says, “and we were locked in the church, and had to lie on the cold floor. Fresh prisoners arrived at intervals. Outside we could hear the cries and lamentations of women and children. Inside an imprisoned priest gave us absolution.

“When we left the church, Campenhout was burning fiercely. We were told we should be freed, but must return to Louvain. On returning, we were once more taken prisoners and driven in front of German soldiers across country without rest or food, and used as a cover for the troops.”

The “Black Hole” Outdone.

Incredible inhuman treatment was accorded to some twelve hundred people who were captured by the German barbarians in the act of fleeing from the doomed city. The men were separated from the women and children, and marched back to Louvain. Then began for them a terrible journey—a journey that drove many mad and others to self-destruction.

“Like so many brutes,” says the Times correspondent, “these burgesses of Louvain, among them merchants, brewers, advocates, engineers, and representatives of all social grades, were herded into wagons which had served for the transport of horses and were inches deep in filth. Into each wagon ninety men were crushed at the point of the bayonet by soldiers who seemed to glory in the maltreatment of their fellow-men. The unhappy prisoners had, of course, to stand, and to add to the horrors of the fetid atmosphere, the doors were shut, and only fugitive rays of light filtered through the chinks.

“For two hours they were kept like this at Louvain station, after which the train left for Cologne. The journey occupied about fifty hours, and the Belgians during this awful time were given neither food nor drink. ‘After such an experience,’ states one of them, ‘hell itself can have no terrors.’

“Once strong physically and prosperous, he who spoke is now a nervous wreck and destitute, living on the charity of friends who do not know but what it may be their turn to-morrow.

“Arrived at Cologne, the prisoners were marched through jeering crowds to the Exhibition Gardens. Men and women surged round the pitiful band, hurling at them vile epithets, and shouting, ‘Zum Tod, zum Tod!’ (‘Kill them, kill them!’) Even the children joined in kicking the prisoners as they passed. The Belgians could gather no idea as to why they had been dragged off to Germany, and even feared the worst. The night was passed in the open, and in the morning they broke their prolonged fast on a small portion of black bread.

“Suddenly the German authorities changed their minds. Back the prisoners must go to Belgium, and, four abreast, the motley column regained the station. A passenger train awaited them, but each compartment for nine people was made to hold eighteen or nineteen. In some ways the home journey was more terrible than the outward. For two days and three nights the unfortunate inhabitants of Louvain were jolted about between Cologne and the capital of their own country, again absolutely without food.

“On rare occasions the guard exhibited a glimmering of pity, and permitted the prisoners a mouthful of water. At the Gare du Nord, in Brussels, compatriots smuggled food through the windows. The train only stopped a short time here, and was off again to Schaerbeek.

“Completely at a loss what to do with their charges, the Prussian officers ordered them out of the train, and under an armed guard marched them on foot through Vilvorde and Pont BrulÉ and on to Malines. When crossing the fields the prisoners tore up turnips and beetroots and ate them ravenously. At Malines the officer in charge of the escort told the half-dead men they were free, and by different routes they reached Ghent, Bruges, Ostend, and other places in territory unoccupied by the enemy.”

The Massacre of Innocents.

The stories of the poor panic-stricken women of Louvain who emerged alive from the night of terror cannot fail to arouse horror. One woman upon whose face were marks of the intense suffering through which she had passed told how she tore down the curtains from her windows, wrapped them round some wearing apparel, and ran from the house with her two children. In the street she became involved in a stampede of men, women, and children rushing away from their burning town, whither she knew not.

This miserable refugee’s story was so disjointed, so interspersed with hysterical sobs and exclamations, that it is impossible to make a full and coherent narrative of it.

“Ah!” she exclaimed, with a convulsive shudder, “I will tell you of the burning of Louvain. We had pulled down some of the buildings so that the Germans should not mount guns on them when they came. I believe that was the reason. We were in a state of terror, because we had heard of the cruelties of the Germans. But all we had heard of them was not so bad as we experienced. In the streets people were cruelly butchered, and then on all sides flames began to rise. We were prepared for what we regarded as the worst, but never had we anticipated that they would burn us in our homes. People rushed about frantic to save their property. They were shot down by rifle volleys, struck down by sabres, and pierced by lances. My God! What have we not suffered?”

Two young Oxford undergraduates who were present tell a graphic story, in a letter to the Times, of the sack of the town and the burning of the neighbouring village. Leaving Aix-la-Chapelle on the Wednesday in question, they set off for Louvain. As they passed through the little hamlet of Cortenbergh they encountered a body of German troops who had been dispatched to destroy the village. Taken prisoners, they were guarded while the inhuman soldiers of the Kaiser made use of the cartloads of straw which they had brought with them for their terrible purpose. Soon every house was a mass of flames.

“This was in the afternoon,” they relate, “and from three to six o’clock we had to stand at the end of the street while the firing went on. It was a terrible spectacle, and our first glimpse of the horrors of war, for we saw five civilians, as they left their burning homes, ruthlessly shot down by German soldiers. Neither of us will ever forget the spectacle Louvain presented when we reached it the following morning. The whole town had apparently capitulated to the Germans, although occasionally we heard the sound of firing. The greater part of the town was in flames. Houses were falling, telegraph and telephone poles were tumbling into the streets, and the picture of desolation was complete, while German soldiers were looting among the ruins. Dead bodies littered the streets.... Some German soldiers told us that they had taken four hundred English prisoners from among those who had attacked their troop-trains, and three hundred and thirty of them had been shot that morning because they were found in possession of dum-dum bullets.”

A Refugee’s Plight.

The pathetic tale of a Belgian woman, who reached a place of safety after almost inconceivable hardship, was told in words which were few, but pregnant with tragedy and suffering. “Panic-stricken, we women fled from the burning town, and, half-running and half-walking, hurried from the dreadful scene. Mile after mile we covered, until our feet seemed as lead and our senses reeled. I am told we walked over seventy miles before we came to a railway. I wanted to bow down and kiss the cold iron rails. I fell exhausted, having carried my two children in turn. Footsore, broken-hearted, after the first joy of sighting the railway, I felt my head whirling, and I wondered whether it was all worth while. Then I thought of my deliverance, and thanked God.

“What did Louvain look like? Like what it was—a mass of flame devouring our homes, our property, and our relatives. Most of us women were deprived of our husbands. In the town everybody who offered any opposition was killed, and everyone found to be armed in any way was shot. Wives saw their husbands shot in the streets. I myself saw the Burgomaster shot, and I saw another man dragged roughly away from his weeping wife and children and shot through the head.”

An American’s Story.

A vivid word-picture of the scene is given by Mr. Gerald Morgan, an American, in the Daily Telegraph. “An hour before sunset we entered Louvain,” he says, “and found the city a smoking furnace. The railway station was crowded with troops, drunk with loot and liquor, and rapine as well. From house to house, acting under orders, groups of soldiers were carrying lighted straw, placing it in the basement, and then passing on to the next. It was not one’s idea of a general conflagration, for each house burned separately—hundreds of individual bonfires—while the sparks shot up like thousands of shooting stars into the still night-air. It was exactly like a display of fireworks or Bengal lights and set-pieces at a grand display in Coney Island.

“Meanwhile, through the station arch we saw German justice being administered. In a square outside, where the cabs stand, an officer stood, and the soldiers drove the citizens of Louvain into his presence, like so many

unwilling cattle on a market day. Some of the men, after a few words between the officer and the escorts, were marched off under fixed bayonets behind the railway station. Then we heard volleys, and the soldiers returned. Then the train moved out, and the last we saw of the doomed city was an immense red glare in the gathering darkness.”

What M. Carton de Wiart Told Me.

Before leaving the subject of Louvain it is necessary for me to chronicle the following, which was told me by M. Carton de Wiart, the Belgian Minister of Justice. “As to the sacking of Louvain,” he stated, “we have here a statement dated August 30th, which has been handed to the Commission by a person of universal repute in Belgium, and which has been telegraphed to us. On August 30th that person went from Brussels to Louvain. On the high-road, when he got to a place called Weerde St. George, he saw only burning villages and peasants beside themselves with terror. When he reached Louvain and got to the American College—a large number of American students, young priests, and medical students come to Louvain—he found that fire had destroyed the whole town except the town hall and city station. This gentleman noted that on Sunday last the Germans kept on kindling new fires and placing straw so as to carry the fire farther. The cathedral and the theatre had been destroyed, and had collapsed completely. So had the famous library, one of the most precious in the world, especially as regards manuscripts and works of art. The town,” he says, “presents the aspect of an old ruined city, a city like Pompeii. In the midst of this scene of desolation the only people you could see were drunken soldiers carrying bottles of wine and liqueurs in their arms, and officers themselves sitting in the streets around tables drinking like their men.”

The “Times” Speaks Out.

Finally I give a quotation from the Times:—

“Deep and deadly must be the vengeance which the defenders of civilization will exact from these new apostles of brutality. Even Attila had his better side. He spared Milan. It has been said of him that, though he destroyed cities without remorse, he respected the laws of nations as they were understood in his day. The modern Attila respects neither the laws of nations nor the laws of God. His evil deeds cry aloud to Heaven and to the horror-struck watching nations. The infamous crime of the destruction of Louvain is without a parallel even in the dark ages. The harmless civil population had been disarmed a week ago. The German garrison at the gates of the town fired upon another force of their own countrymen. To conceal their blunder, they laid the blame upon the helpless townspeople. No denials were listened to. Some of the men of Louvain were shot, the rest were made prisoners, the women and children were flung into trains and carried off to an unknown destination, and the city was razed to the ground. Louvain has ceased to exist. A town of forty thousand inhabitants, bigger than Crewe or Dover or Colchester or Keighley, has been completely wiped out. The wickedness of this abominable act shall be expiated to the uttermost when the day of reckoning comes.

“Until now we have maintained an attitude of deliberate reserve upon the innumerable tales of German atrocities which have reached us. We published without comment the unanswerable list of shocking excesses committed by the German troops, which was sent to England by the Belgian authorities. When a German Zeppelin cast bombs upon ill-fated women asleep in their beds at Antwerp, we did no more than explain the bearings of international law upon conduct which has met with universal reprobation in Europe and America. But now the real object of German savagery is self-revealed, not only by the effacement of Louvain, but by the shameful admissions sent forth from the wireless station at Berlin. Last Thursday night the following official notification regarding Belgium came vibrating through the air:—

“‘The only means of preventing surprise attacks from the civil population has been to interfere with unstinting severity and to create examples which by their frightfulness would be a warning to the whole country.’

“Such is the cynical nature of the German apologia for the destruction of Louvain. Such is the character of the warfare of the modern Huns. They seek to strike terror into the hearts of their foes by methods which belong to the days of the old barbaric hosts, who were thought to have vanished from the world for ever. There must be no mistake about the opportionment of blame for this and numberless other crimes. We have listened too long to the bleatings of professors bemused by the false glamour of a philosophy which the Germans themselves have thrust aside.