LIÈGE AFTER THE OCCUPATION
NEXT day I was already back in Liège, where much was changed after my
last visit. The Germans went on terrorising the inhabitants, and these,
being extremely frightened, looked with suspicion at every stranger.
In the streets was the smoke of burning houses, especially from
Outre-Meuse.
In every quarter I met Belgian refugees from the south, and
Netherlanders who wanted to escape to their safe native country. The
Liège people themselves were not allowed to leave.
Nearly every hour another proclamation was posted; and this made the
people still more nervous. One of them brought the information that
the province of Liège had to pay a war-tax of fifty million francs.
Another forbade the people to be out in the streets after six o'clock
p.m.; the doors must remain open, the windows show the lights. Burning
and shooting were threatened if any more arms should be found, and all
houses were to be searched.
Many shops were closed on account of lack of stock, as everything had
been requisitioned, and as yet no traffic was allowed to bring in fresh
provisions. All this bother made the inhabitants discontented, but
frightened them at the same time; they grumbled and whispered, and
looked about with malicious, flaming eyes, but in mortal fear.
Labourers were called up to assist in reinforcing the conquered forts
on the left bank of the Meuse, the forts which by and by might be used
to shell their fellow-countrymen, in case the Germans should be forced
to retire. Nobody will have offered himself for this work voluntarily,
the less so as the proclamation wound up as follows:--
"Des ouvriers volontaires seront embauchés à partir du 21 Août sur
la rive gauche de la Meuse, où on fera connaître les conditions
détaillées":
("Voluntary workmen will be enrolled from August 21st on the left
bank of the Meuse, where details of the conditions will be made
known.")
The streets and squares where the high military officers had
established themselves were closed by cordons of soldiers, and nobody
was allowed to pass them.
The town was entirely shut off from war- and other news.
I informed a few priests of the Pope's death, which had been known in
The Netherlands for several days. They knew nothing about it, and asked
whether I had any proof by me. I gave them _De Tijd_ printed with a
black border, and armed with this document they went to communicate the
sad news to the Right Reverend Rutten, bishop of Liège.
I also brought consternation to the nunnery at which my cousin
lives by this same report of the Holy Father's demise; and the good
dear Sisters roamed through the passages, wringing their hands and
repeating: "Le Pape est mort!--le Pape est mort!" ("The Pope is dead!")
I met a doctor at this nunnery, who told me highly important news,
but in whispers, because in these days "even walls have ears": the
Allies had gained great victories over the Germans. As he saw by the
expression of my face that I did not believe off-hand all he told, he
became still more impressive in manner, and produced a paper, from
which he recited:--
"Great German defeat at Libramont--nine thousand prisoners taken."
"In Alsace the French are near the Rhine."
"The Russians advanced fifty miles into East Prussia."
In the same way the list went on for a goodly length, and he became
actually angry when even then I refused to believe everything. He was
especially pleased with the account of the victory near Libramont. He
had a friend, also a physician, who had been compelled by the Germans
to go with them in the medical service, and this friend had told him
this himself. It was remarkable that educated, superior persons could
become so narrow-minded in times like these, and believed anything
simply because they hoped that it might be true.
The town was full of soldiers, and I had great trouble to find
lodgings. "Tout est pris par les Allemands" ("Everything is taken by
the Germans") was the answer I got everywhere, with the result that I
was still hunting for a bedroom after six o'clock, although nobody was
then allowed in the streets. I was stopped at every turn, and after
explaining my case got a hint to hurry up.
At last I found an hotel, where I could have a small garret,
against which arrangement I had not the slightest objection in the
circumstances. The café downstairs looked rather peculiar, with a great
number of looking-glasses, and ladies with powdered faces. These seemed
not averse to closer relations with me, but when I pretended not to
understand a single word of French, they soon gave it up, and showed no
further desire for my friendship. But I could see quite well that they
discussed the question whether I was a German officer or a spy?
I went to bed early, for that day I had again walked from Maastricht to
Liège. My little bedroom was quite in the roof of the house, and had
evidently been used by a servant.
About midnight I was roused by an infernal noise in the street. People
yelled and screamed most fearfully, and I heard rifle-shots also.
I felt not the slightest inclination to go and see what was the matter,
but I stretched myself and yawned, feeling much more tired after a
couple of hours' rest than when I went to bed. The uproar went on, and
suddenly I thought that I also heard a hubbub in the café downstairs.
And, really, it came ever nearer. People rushed up and down the stairs,
screamed and yelled, doors were banged, in short it was as if they were
pulling down the house.
Very sleepy, I went on listening ... listening ... probably until I
fell asleep again, for I cannot remember what happened after.
I woke up in the morning, and when going downstairs saw that the
doors of all the rooms stood open, and everything inside was in great
disorder. In the café tables and chairs were overturned, and broken
looking-glasses lay on the floor. The front door was also open, and I
walked away.
And now the explanation? During the night the Germans had started
house-to-house searches, and wherever the doors were not opened quickly
enough, the soldiers began to shoot. The inhabitants were then driven
into the street amid loud screams and cries. It was also said that some
persons had been shot.
By what accident had I not been disturbed? The height, perhaps, at
which my miserable little garret-room was situated.
The hotel where I stayed that night was called _Hôtel de la Paix_; an
hotel of peace, indeed!