directed from the plateau of Amance and the Grand Couronné that strong
defence of Nancy which protected--and still protects--the French right,
and has baulked all the German attempts to turn it.

Meanwhile, in the early days of March, the German retreat, south of the
Somme and in front of the French line, was not yet verified; and the
worst devastation of the war--the most wanton crime, perhaps, that
Germany has so far committed--was not yet accomplished. I had left
France before it was fully known, and could only realise, by hot
sympathy from a distance, the passionate thrill of fury and wild grief
which swept through France when the news began to come in from the
evacuated districts. British correspondents with the advancing armies of
the Allies have seen deeds of barbarism which British eyes and hearts
will never forget, and have sent the news of them through the world. The
destruction of Coucy and Ham, the ruin and plunder of the villages, the
shameless loot everywhere, the hideous ill-treatment of the country
folk, the deportation of boys and girls, the massacre of the fruit
trees--these things have gone deep into the very soul of France, burning
away--except in the minds of a few incorrigible fanatics--whatever
foolish "pacificism" was there, and steeling the mind and will of the
nation afresh to that victory which can alone bring expiation,
punishment, and a peace worth the name. But, everywhere, the ruins with
which northern, central, and eastern France are covered, whether they
were caused by the ordinary processes of war or not, are equally part of
the guilt of Germany. In the country which I saw last year on the
Belgian border, from the great phantom of Ypres down to Festubert, the
ravage is mainly the ravage of war. Incessant bombardment from the
fighting lines has crumbled village after village into dust, or gashed
the small historic towns and the stately country houses. There is no
deliberate use of torch and petrol, as in the towns farther south and