A Journal From Our Legation in Belgium Part 20

I was taken straight up to him in his Council Chamber, where I found him seated at a great table covered with maps and papers. He pushed them aside wearily as I came in, and rose to greet me. He talked at some length on the war and the ordeal of Belgium, but was chiefly interested in how the people were being treated. His interest was not only for his own friends, but he showed particular interest in learning how the poorer people were being treated--whether the poorer quarters of the town were keeping calm and avoiding trouble with the Germans. He was most anxious that they should avoid doing anything that would arouse the Germans against them. He spoke simply and touchingly of his confidence in the loyalty and patriotism of all his people, and his certainty that they would come through the war with an even greater love of country.

The rest of the Palace was in confusion, with servants packing and orderlies coming and going. But the King's room was in perfect calm. The King sat quite still in his armchair and talked quietly, without haste.

He was very serious, and it was clearly to be seen that he felt his responsibility and the suffering of his army. But his determination was just as evident. He realised that the evacuation was inevitable, and having made up his mind to that, he devoted his whole energies and thoughts to seeing that it was carried out effectively and quickly. He has a very patent faculty of concentration and of eliminating his own personality and feelings. I have seldom felt so sorry for anyone, partly perhaps because all of his sympathy was for others.

When the King finally rose to dismiss me, he said:

"The Queen wants to see you. Will you come back at half-past two?"

I had planned to leave for Brussels immediately after luncheon, but, of course, this was a command to which I gladly yielded.

The St. Antoine was all hurry and confusion, and the dining room was buzzing with conjecture as to whether the bombardment of the city would begin before the exodus was accomplished. The Military Governor had posted a proclamation to warn the population that it might begin at any time. There was a certain amount of unconscious humour in his proclamation. He advised people to retire into their cellars with bedding, food, water and other necessaries; to disconnect the water, gas and electricity; to stuff the staircases with mattresses, as a matter of protection; to take with them picks and shovels, so that they could dig themselves out in case their houses fell in; and after a few more hints of this sort, the Governor genially remarks:

"Having taken these precautions, the population can await the bombardment in calm."

The German authorities have offered to spare the historic monuments of Antwerp in their bombardment, if the Belgian General Staff will send them maps of the city with such monuments and hospitals clearly; marked.

I found that it had been arranged in Brussels that I should collect the plans on my way through Antwerp and deliver them to the German authorities in Brussels, and, of course, agreed to do so.

After luncheon I went back to the Palace, where I was immediately received by the Queen in her sitting room. Her Majesty seemed quite oblivious of the confusion in the Palace, and, like the King, she was chiefly concerned as to the welfare of the people left under German domination. I was able to give her comforting news as to the treatment of the people of Brussels. While we were talking, the roar of the German guns seemed to increase and made the windows rattle. There was an outcry in the street, and we went to the window to see a German aeroplane pursued by a British machine. We watched them out of sight, and then went back to our talk. The members of the Court had tried to prevail upon the Queen to leave Antwerp, but when it became evident that the place must be surrendered, she refused to move and told me she would stay until the King left. And she did.

When I got back to the hotel, I found Eugene with news that the differential of my car had broken, so that we could not start. It was important that we lose no time in getting the plans of the town to the German authorities, so I got Baron van der Elst to go with me to the General Staff and explain the situation. General de Guise promptly wrote out an order that I should be given the best car to be found in the city. Armed with this, Eugene set forth and gathered in a very pretty little limousine to bring us back to Brussels. It was evidently a lady's car and almost too pretty, but we were not exacting and took it thankfully. However, it was too late to start out through the lines, so we gave up the idea of leaving before morning. We had thought of taking the route of the army and getting to Brussels by way of Ghent, but the people at the General Staff said the road was so crowded with transport that we would make little progress, and that the better course would be to take exactly the opposite direction and go by way of Tournhout.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Graves of civilians shot by the Germans]

[Ill.u.s.tration: A typical proclamation

PROCLAMATION

A l'avenir les localites situees pres de l'endroit ou a eu lieu la destruction des chemins de fer et lignes telegraphiques seront punies sans pitie (il n'importe qu'elles soient coupables ou non de ces actes.) Dans ce but des otages ont ete pris dans toutes les localites situees pres des chemins de fer qui sont menaces de pareilles attaques; et au premier attentat a la destruction des lignes de chemins de fer, de lignes telegraphiques ou lignes telephoniques, ils seront immediatement fusilles.

Bruxelles, le 5 Octobre 1914 _Le Gouverneur,_ VON DER GOLTZ

Translation:

In future, villages in the vicinity of places where railway and telegraph lines are destroyed will be punished without pity (whether they are guilty or not of the acts in question). With this in view hostages have been taken in all villages near the railway lines which are threatened by such attacks. Upon the first attempt to destroy lines of railway, telegraph, or telephone, they will be immediately shot.

The Governor, VON DER GOLTZ]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Two ill.u.s.trations t.i.tled "Views of the Fort of Waehlem after its bombardment by the big German guns"]

I took several of the ladies of the corps down to the boat, which was to take them to Ostend, which was to be the next stand of the Government.

They all took it coolly and went to bed, as though there were no bombardment going on. The King and Queen, the Prime Minister, and the representatives of the allies remained in town overnight.

On one of my trips out of the hotel I met the Queen coming in to say good-bye to Princess Koudatcheff (wife of the Russian Minister), who was ill. She stopped to greet us and make inquiries as to each one.

After dark the crowd began to melt. Winston Churchill came down with his party, got into motors, and made off for Bruges. The Belgian officers staying at the hotel got off with their units, and by ten o'clock the staff of the British Legation, Fowler and I, were left in almost undisputed possession of the hotel. The water-supply was cut. The lights were out and the place was far from gay, particularly as nearly all the servants had fled, and we could not get anything to eat or drink.

Most of the town repaired to the cellars for the night, but we decided that if it really came, we saw no choice between going down with the house into the cellar and having the house come down on top of us, so we turned in and got a night's rest, which, I am free to confess, was rather fitful.

All night long motors were snorting away, and all night long the guns kept pounding, although they did not seem to get any nearer. With the intelligence that one has when half awake, I carefully arranged a pillow between me and the window, as a protection against sh.e.l.ls!

We got up early and went out into the streets to watch the movement. The few remaining troops were being poured out on the road to Ghent. On foot, in motors, on trains, on bicycles, and on horseback, they streamed. The civil population was also getting away, and all the trams in the direction of the Dutch frontier were loaded with people carrying their little bundles--all they could hope to take away with them. The hospitals were being emptied of the wounded and they were getting away as best they could, those whose legs were all right helping those who had trouble in walking. It was a depressing sight, and above all, the sound of the big guns which we had heard steadily since the morning before.

We got under way about half-past eight, after a wretched and sketchy breakfast, and after saying good-bye to one of our friends of the British Legation.

First, we went to the north gate, only to find that it had been closed to vehicles a few minutes before, and that barbed-wire entanglements had been stretched across the road. Argument was vain, so we worked our way back through the traffic and reached the Porte de Tournhout, only to be turned back again. For nearly an hour we wandered about in the stream of refugees, in vehicles and on foot, before we finally succeeded in making our way through a side door of the Porte de Tournhout, and starting that way. We were not at all sure that we should be able to reach the Dutch frontier through Tournhout, as the Germans were supposed to be that far north, but we did make it after a long series of stops, to be examined by all sorts of Belgian outposts who kept cropping up out of fields to stop us and look through our papers. From some little distance out of town, we could see the sh.e.l.ls bursting over the southern part of the town, or possibly over the villages to the south of the town proper.

We plowed along through Holland, being stopped all afternoon by Civil Guards, and reached Maestricht at sunset. We went straight to the German Consulate to have our papers put in order and learn whether it could be arranged for us to pa.s.s the lines at night. Our papers were not in order because they bore no photographs, and the Consul could not see that the German interest in our mission made any difference, so that there was nothing to do but wait over until morning, and get some pictures.

It took us until ten in the morning to get our photographs and have our papers arranged, and by good driving we reached Liege in time to lunch with the Consul. Then on to Brussels by way of Namur. On the road we picked up a German officer on his way to Namur, which kindly deed saved us much delay in being stopped by posts.

We reached Brussels at five and hastened to send the precious plans of Antwerp to Lancken. We had just settled down at the Legation to a good talk when word came that Lancken was anxious to see me at once. I went over to the Political Department to find that the gentleman merely wanted a formal statement from me as to when I had received and delivered the plans, so that he could make it a matter of record. I satisfied him on these points and went my way.

Then we gathered at the Legation and talked steadily until after midnight.

While I was away the Minister had got off a train-load of Americans, and with them he had sent the English nurses. That relieved Harold Fowler of the mission that brought him, but we bore up bravely.

The Germans have announced the fall of Antwerp and have apparently occupied the city. At first everybody was much downcast, but on second thought they have been convinced that the evacuation of the army and the surrender of an empty sh.e.l.l was a pretty clever piece of work. With the big siege guns that were in action, it was only a question of days until the Germans would have reduced all the forts. And then if the resistance had been maintained, the greater part of the army would probably have been captured. As it is, the Belgians inundated the country to keep the Germans from cutting off their retreat, and made off for Ostend, leaving only a handful of men with the British Marines, to hold the Germans in check. So far as we can learn, most of the army has succeeded in getting away and forming a junction with the allies.

_Brussels, October 14, 1914._--We are quite up in the air about what we are to do next. Monday afternoon I went around to headquarters to get a _laisser-pa.s.ser_ to take Harold Fowler back to England. While the matter was being attended to, an officer came in and told me that Baron von der Lancken wanted very much to see me. When I went into his room, he said that there was nothing in particular that he wanted to see me about, but that he thought I would be interested in hearing the news and in telling him something of my trip. We talked along for some time about things in general, and then he told me that the movement of troops toward the coast was progressing rapidly and that the Belgian Government would soon be driven from the country. Then putting the tips of his fingers together and looking me coyly in the eye, he inquired: "And then my dear colleague, what will be your position?" He elaborated by pointing out that the Government, to which we are accredited, having left the country, we would be merely in the position of foreigners of distinction residing here, and that we would have no official rank or standing. The idea evidently is that they do not care to have us around any longer than they can help.

I later learned that Villalobar had been more ready than I with his retort. In the course of a call later in the afternoon, Lancken had talked the same matter over with him, and had wound up with the same genial question: "And then my dear colleague, what will be your position?" Without any hesitation, Villalobar replied: "My situation will be just the same as yours. We are both representatives of our country in a country not our own. We shall continue to owe each other respect, and to make the best of conditions."

The latest news we have this afternoon is to the effect that the Government has been driven from Ostend, presumably to the Isle of Guernsey. It would be pleasant, in a way, to retire to a retreat of that sort for a few months' rest, but I fear there is nothing of that sort in store.

To-day I ran across an order from the Governor-General forbidding civilians to ride bicycles. The order concludes as follows:

Civilians who, in spite of this, continue to ride bicycles, expose themselves to being shot by German troops.

If a cyclist is suspected of planning to damage railroad, telegraph or telephone lines, or of the intention of attacking German troops, he will be shot according to martial law.

Apparently it is no longer necessary to go through the forms of proving that the cyclist had any evil intention. The mere suspicion is enough to have him shot.

In the course of a visit to General von Luttwitz to-day, one of the colleagues remarked that the Germans _must_ keep the Belgians alive, and could not allow them to starve. Luttwitz was not at all of that mind, for he said with some show of feeling:

"The allies are at liberty to feed the Belgians. If they don't, they are responsible for anything that may happen. If there are bread riots, the natural thing would be for us to drive the whole civil population into some restricted area, like the Province of Luxembourg, build a barbed wire fence around them, and leave them to starve in accordance with the policy of their allies."

And as the German policy is more or less frankly stated as a determination to wipe out as many of the enemy as possible without regard to what is or has been considered as permissible, it is quite within the realm of possibility that they would be prepared to let the Belgian people starve. In any event, you can't gamble with the lives of seven millions of people when all you have to go on is the belief that Germany will be guided by the dictates of humanity.

Fowler was to have left yesterday morning, and had engaged a seat in a new motor that is being run out by way of Maestricht. It was to have called at my house at seven o'clock yesterday morning, and we were up and about bright and early. We waited until a little after nine, when Eugene turned up to say that the chauffeur had been arrested and put in jail for having carried correspondence and having been caught nosing around one of the forts at Liege. The service is now suspended, and we don't see any prospect of his getting off before Friday, when we are sending a courier to the Legation at The Hague.

Yesterday afternoon we went up to Antwerp to see how our old motor-car was getting along. It was out of whack, and we were obliged to get another to come back to Brussels. I took the big car and organised an expedition of Monsieur de Leval, Fowler and a German official named Conrad, who went along to help us over the rough places. It is the first time for weeks that the direct route has been feasible.

I have had enough of ruined towns, and was not able to get the awful sights out of my head all night, but spent my time in bad dreams. From Vilvorde right into Antwerp there is not a town intact. Eppeghem, Sempst, Malines, Waehlem, Berchem--all razed to the ground. In Malines a good part of the town is standing and I suppose that the Cathedral can be restored, but the other towns are done for. There were practically no civilians in any of them--a few poor peasants poking dismally about in the ruins, trying to find some odds and ends that they could save from the general wreck. There were some children sitting on the steps of deserted houses and a few hungry dogs prowling around, but no other signs of life. All the way from the outskirts of Brussels straight through to Antwerp, the road was lined with empty bottles. They gave a pretty good idea of what had gone on along the line of march.