There is one idea which dominates the Belgian tragedy: "The body may be
conquered, the soul remains free." These words were uttered for the
first time, I believe, by the Belgian Premier, Baron de Broqueville, in
the solemn sitting of the House, when the German violation of Belgian
neutrality was announced to the representatives of the people. The idea
is supposed to have been expressed by King Albert, in another form,
before the evacuation of Antwerp. It was used to great effect in one of
the most popular cartoons published by _Punch_, in which the Kaiser says
to the King, with a sneer, "You have lost everything," and the King
replies, "Not my soul." It is so intimately associated with the Belgian
cause that the image of the stricken country is scarcely ever evoked
without an allusion being made to it.

We have seen, in the course of the earlier chapters, how Belgium
succeeded in preserving her loyalty and patriotism in spite of the most
ruthless oppression and the most cunning calumnies. We must now look at
the darker side of the picture and see how she has not succeeded in
preserving either her prosperity, or even her supply of daily bread.

We shall soon be confronted with the most tragic aspect of her Calvary.
So long as her armies were fighting the invader, so long as her towns
and countryside were ruined by German frightfulness, so long as her
martyrs, men, women and children, were falling side by side in the
market-place before the firing party, so long as every symbol, every
word of patriotism was forbidden her, Belgium could remain vanquished
but unconquered, bleeding but unshakeable. She enjoyed, in the face of
her oppressors, all the privileges of the Christian martyrs of the
first centuries; she could smile on the rack, laugh under the whip and
sing in the flames. She remained free in her prison, free to respect