But there is more. One of the historic chateaux is that of Avricourt,
rich in noble associations of history. It was one of the class of
buildings covered by a clause in the international agreements between
Germany, France and the United States and all the civilized nations,
safeguarding historic buildings. For many months it was the home of
Prince Eitel, the Kaiser's second son.
When a judge and jury held inquiry at the ruins of the chateau, the
aged French servant, who understood the electric lighting and had
charge of the gas plant during Eitel's occupancy, stated that he heard
the German officers telling Eitel Frederick that he would disgrace
the German name if he destroyed a building that had no relation to
war, that could be of no aid or comfort to the French army, and that
he would make his own name, and that of his family, a name of shame
and contempt, of obloquy and scorn. But the man would not yield. He
brought in his auto trucks and carried to the freight cars every
historic object in the splendid chateau. Having pledged himself to
leave the building uninjured, the prince stopped his car at the gates
of the exit, ran back to this historic house, filled his firebrand,
spread the flames upon the halls, waited until the flames were well
in progress, and then ordered his men to light the fuse of dynamite
bombs. A few days later inquiry was held and testimony of aged servants
and little children was taken. The degeneracy of this German Prince
as then revealed has not been equalled since the first chapter of
Romans catalogued the unnatural crimes of the men of the ancient world.
Germany has no artistic sense. Her own poet, Heine, predicts that
she will yet pull in pieces her one fine cathedral. The German poet
does not think any beautiful thing is safe so long as it is in German
hands. This gifted Hebrew had the vision that literally saw the German
pounding to pieces the Cathedral at Louvain and Ypres, in Arras, in
Bapaume, in St. Quentin, and Rheims.