Now the worst aspect of the German policy is that it associates the
subtlest dialectics with the most insane brutality. When the time comes,
they act with the blind fury of the bull, but they have already thought
it all over with the wisdom of the serpent. That is why the popular
appellation of "Huns" is so misleading. It suggests merely the brutality
of primitive men, which is not always so dangerous and so depraved as
the brutality of civilised men. Brutality does not exclude honesty and
pity. Attila listened to the prayers of the Pope and spared Rome. The
Kaiser's lieutenant does not listen to Cardinal Mercier's protests. The
Huns, as most strong men, made a point of keeping their word. The
Germans seem to make a point of breaking theirs. When I compared the
fight of Belgium and Germany to the unequal fight of Jack and the Giant,
of David and Goliath, I was forgetting that David and Jack were cleverer
than their antagonists. Folklore and fairy-tales always equalize the
chances by granting more wit to the small people than to the big ones.
It is a healthy inspiration. But we are confronted to-day with a new
monster, a wise giant, a cunning dragon, a subtle beast.

We must therefore not imagine that Governor von Bissing got up one fine
morning, called for pen and ink, like King Cole for his bowl, and wrote
a proclamation to the effect that all Belgians of military age would be
reduced to slavery and obliged, under the penalty of physical torture
and under the whip of German sentries, to dig trenches behind the
Western front or to turn shells in a German factory. Any fool--any
Goliath--might have done that.

Every German crime is preceded by a series of false promises and
followed by a series of calumnies. Between such a prelude and such a
finale, you may perform a symphony of frightfulness with Dr. Strauss'
orchestration--it will sound as innocent and artless as the three notes