cunning use of what she calls ethical propaganda. Why ethics, or morals,
should be good enough to inspire sympathy, but not good enough to
inspire war, is one of the mysteries of German thought. No German, not
even any of those few feeble German writers who have fitfully criticized
the German plan, has any conception of the deep, sincere, unselfish, and
righteous anger that was aroused in millions of hearts by the cruelties
of the cowardly assault on Serbia and on Belgium. The late German
Chancellor became uneasily aware that the crucifixion of Belgium was one
of the causes which made this war a truceless war, and his offer, which
no doubt seemed to him perfectly reasonable, was that Germany is willing
to bargain about Belgium, and to relax her hold, in exchange for solid
advantages elsewhere. Perhaps he knew that if the Allies were to spend
five minutes in bargaining about Belgium they would thereby condone the
German crime and would lose all that they have fought for. But it seems
more likely that he did not know it. The Allies know it.

There is hope in these clear-cut issues. Of all wars that ever were
fought this war is least likely to have an indecisive ending. It must be
settled one way or the other. If the Allied Governments were to make
peace to-day, there would be no peace; the peoples of the free countries
would not suffer it. Germany cannot make peace, for she is bound by
heavy promises to her people, and she cannot deliver the goods. She is
tied to the stake, and must fight the course. Emaciated, exhausted,
repeating, as if in a bad dream, the old boastful appeals to military
glory, she must go on till she drops, and then at last there will be
peace.

These may themselves seem boastful words; they cannot be proved except
by the event. There are some few Englishmen, with no stomach for a
fight, who think that England is in a bad way because she is engaged in