DURING THE SIEGE OF ANTWERP
MANY days before the Germans marched upon Antwerp I announced the siege
in my paper. In Louvain I had seen all the preparations and also the
arrival of the Austrian 30·5 c.m. which were intended to batter to
ruins the bulwark of the national defence.
As soon as the siege had begun, I tried to join the Germans, viâ
Louvain, and left Maastricht again by motor-car. Only a few miles from
the Netherland frontier I met the first soldiers, Belgians. When they
saw the Orange flag with the word "Nederland," they let us pass without
any trouble. A little farther on the road walked a civilian, who, by
putting up his hands, requested or commanded us to stop. We took the
most prudent part, and did stop. The man asked in bad Dutch to be
allowed to drive on with us to Brussels, but the motor was not going
beyond Tirlemont; outside that place motor-traffic was forbidden. The
stranger got in all the same, in order to have a convenient journey at
least so far.
My new companion tried desperately to speak as good Dutch as possible,
but failed in the most deplorable manner; every time pure German
words came in between. He told a story that he stayed at Maastricht
as a refugee, and now wanted to fetch his children from a girls'
boarding-school at Brussels. I pretended to believe every word, and
after he had forgotten the first story he made up another, saying that
he came from Liège, where some officers who were billeted on him were
kind enough to give him a chance of going to Brussels, to purchase
stock for his business.
When we were stopped by German outposts he put out of the window a
paper at which they just glanced, stood to attention, and said that
all was well. They did not even want to see my papers. In a casual way
I asked what a miraculous sort of paper he had, and then he pretended
that, by the help of those officers who were quartered on him, he had
got a certificate from the Governor of Liège with the order to treat
him with great respect and also to allow him to travel by military
trains if the opportunity happened to offer itself.
In Tongres it was necessary to get a passport signed, and pay three
marks each, and ten marks for the motor. But the office of the
commander was not open before three o'clock in the afternoon, according
to the soldiers who were doing sentry-go in front of the town-hall.
Wait till three o'clock? No fear! My companion showed his miraculous
paper again, and was allowed to go in, but only by himself. I gave
him my papers and those of the chauffeur, and also wanted to give him
sixteen marks, three each for the chauffeur and myself and ten for the
motor, but he said that that was unnecessary. Within twenty minutes
the fellow came back with our verified passports on which the words
"Paid: Free" were written.
A lot of artillery and a great number of soldiers were in the
market-place ready to start. The commander sent one of his officers
to us, who addressed me, examined my papers, and then said that I
had surely met Belgian soldiers on the way. Of course I denied this
emphatically.
"Don't you know then whether there are Belgian military in Vroenhoven?"
"No."
"And in Lanaeken?"
"I know nothing about that."
"Didn't hear either about it?"
"No."
Evidently he seemed to confide in me, and told me that they had been
ordered to clear the north-east corner of Belgium of enemies, and that
by and by they were going to march upon Lanaeken first of all.
When he was gone I gazed for some moments in silence at all these
men and guns, destined to go and destroy by and by the heroes, who
have done so much harm to the Germans, under command of the brave
lieutenant Count de Caritat, burgomaster of Lanaeken. I thought of that
brave Belgian from Dinant whom I met on his solitary outpost outside
Lanaeken, and if I had acted according to my heart's desire, I should
have sneaked away to the threatened point in order to warn those
courageous men of the approaching disaster.
My mysterious companion touched my shoulder and asked whether we
should not go on. "All right," I said, and we got in again.
At Tirlemont they were very busy rebuilding the burnt houses, although
all day long the air shook from the heavy roar of the cannon near
Antwerp.
I sent the motor back to The Netherlands, and went with my companion
to the commander's office, where we got a permit to go on by military
train.
From the side of Brussels many soldiers arrived at the station, who had
all been wounded near Antwerp.
After a long time we were able to enter a train taking numerous new
troops to Antwerp. We occupied a first-class compartment, which looked
like a cattle-truck: pieces of bread, paper, cigar-ends, and tobacco
were lying on the floor and the seats; the ledges of the windows were
full of candle-grease.
We jogged on to Louvain at a rate of not quite three miles an hour.
Here and there we had to wait a half or a whole hour to let trains from
Brussels pass. The reason why the train went so slowly was because a
week before a Belgian patrol had daringly broken through the outposts
and destroyed the railway near Lovenjool. That village was then burned
down completely and the vicar made a prisoner.
Near Louvain the train had to stop for another two hours, before it
was allowed to enter the station, which was quite close by. I thanked
my stars that at last I got rid of my companion, who travelled on to
Brussels, whereas I got out at Louvain. It was too late to be allowed
to walk in the streets, but the commander gave me an escort of two
soldiers, who were to take me to the mission house of the Fathers of
the Sacred Heart.
It was very cold that evening, and the outposts at Heverlee had all
wrapped themselves up in blankets. Once or twice we were stopped, but
the password of my escort removed all difficulties.
"Is it much farther?" one of my armed guides asked.
"No, only a couple of minutes."
"I am thirsty. I should like very much to have a glass of beer."
"Yes," I replied, "but everything is closed."
"Yes, yes, but we shall like it also to-morrow, hi, hi, hi!"
It is as if the curse of drink always pursued the garrison in Louvain,
for when and wherever I met German soldiers in that town, or came into
touch with them, they were always drunk. That evening, also, I was glad
when I arrived at the mission house, tipped the men, and got rid of
them until the next day.
The Fathers were already in bed, but I soon got them out again. Within
ten minutes I was enjoying what, in the circumstances, was a splendid
meal, and the Fathers were absorbed in the daily and illustrated papers
which I had brought for them.
The conditions at Louvain were the same as some weeks ago: hunger
and misery. Some male prisoners had come back, and also over 150
female prisoners, who for more than a month had been in captivity in
the Munster Camp. During the last days a real reign of terror ruled.
Hostages were continually claimed, and nearly always they took
clerics. The week before the people had feared a new destruction. It
was said that there had been shooting again, but happily the inquiry
showed that a German soldier did it, and he was punished. The shot had
been fired in front of the Josephite convent.
* * * * *
A remarkable strike had taken place in the Leo XIII Hospital. The head
of this institution, Dr. Tits, also had been taken as a hostage. It
was the most blackguardly act one can think of, to take away the man
who had spent night and day mostly nursing wounded Germans. Dr. Noyons
found it so harsh that he took counsel with the other doctors, and they
decided not to resume work before Dr. Tits came back. This of course
happened immediately.
The man who bears the full responsibility for the destruction of
Louvain, General von Manteuffel, had left already when I visited the
town this time, and nobody has ever been able to find out what became
of him. The latest proclamations were all signed: "By order of the
General Government of Brussels--the Etappe-Commander."
Louvain was of course on tenterhooks about the course of the siege of
Antwerp, but everybody was quite confident that this fortress would
withstand a long, long time, although they saw quite well that the
German attack was very fierce, for the tremendous roar of the cannon
never ceased for a moment.
A walking excursion of one day took me to Brussels. I might have
done it in a few hours less, but I lost my way in the wood-paths near
Brussels, for at a certain moment I read on a finger-post, "Brussels
four miles"; and after walking for a long time, and wondering whether I
should ever finish those four miles, I read suddenly: "Brussels--eight
miles!" That gave me such a shock that once more I had nearly taken the
wrong way.
I put all my hope on a car that loomed up in the distance. It was
assisting in the reprovisioning of Brussels, and only for that reason
had the carman got permission to use it. I signalled to him, and he
stopped--a big lout of a man who evidently had had a drop too much; he
would not allow me to ride on with him, because he preferred to remain
alone on his car than to help a spy. "I am a Belgian, a Belgian, and
not a traitor, not a traitor of my country," he assured me, with a lot
of beery tears. In any case the man meant well, and probably he had
tried to drown his troubles in drink.
In other circumstances I should not have taken so much trouble, but I
was so tired that I gave the man all my papers to make him see that I
was a Netherland journalist. But according to him that didn't matter at
all, because the Netherlanders were quite as dirty as the Germans, for
they had allowed the enemies of Belgium to pass through their country,
and so on. In a torrent of words I told him that there was not a word
of truth in it, and that the Belgian Government would surely lose no
time in declaring the same as soon as the country was free again. At
last I appealed to his heart by relating all the Netherlanders had done
for the Belgians. This had the desired effect, and I was allowed to
drive home with him.
At every inn he felt thirsty, and made me feel quite clearly that I
had every reason to treat him. And every time that we went back to our
seats he said again:
"Yes, but now you see if after all you are a spy, you see, then, you
see, I'll knock you down, you see?"
"Yes, yes, but now listen; I have told you already that...."
"But don't you see if you should, don't you see, you see I am a
patriot."
"Oh, but listen: my papers...."
"Yes, but you see they may be forged, you see. They may shoot me, you
see, but a traitor, you see, no, then I would knock you down, you
see...."
That happened each time that he started again, and I was more tired by
trying to convince this man than if I had walked all the rest of the
way to Brussels. But after all I got there.
There was much more liveliness in the Belgian capital than during my
first visit; it was as if the bombardment of Antwerp had wakened the
people out of their slumber, an apparent slumber only, for no citizens
were ever more faithful to the Belgian cause than those of Brussels.
There was shouting enough in the streets and on the boulevards; here
hawkers tried to sell maps of the Fortress of Antwerp; there women
and girls offered scarf-pins with the portrait of Burgomaster Max.
Everybody had such a pin, and I soon sported one too, for only then did
these lady-sellers leave me alone.
The German proclamations in Brussels were nearly as numerous as the
Max pins. They showered them during the last days on the town, the
one more insolent than the other. After reading those things, a
proclamation by Burgomaster Max affected me beneficially, whenever I
could find one amongst the mass of other bills posted on the walls.
Such a document testified to a grand soul and a firm character, which
vindicated courageously the rights of the oppressed people.
In the streets and in the cafés I saw a great many marines who had
taken part in the fights near Antwerp and were sent to Brussels for a
few days' rest. It was remarkable that so many of them who had only
lately looked death in the face, thought that they could not amuse
themselves better than by mixing with girls of the worst description.
Although I cannot, of course, always believe what soldiers, fresh back
from a fight, assert in their over-excited condition, I assumed that I
might conclude that things went badly with the defence of Antwerp.
A trip from Brussels to the scene of the fight convinced me still
more. I passed some time with the artillery which had already silenced
Waelhem, and was now used against the other defences. The sight of such
an action was less interesting than one might think, as I could not get
to the places where the infantry were storming. Only the thunder of
all these guns overwhelmed and gave me an idea of the terror that was
created.
From Antwerp, which I could see clearly from the positions of the
artillery near Waelhem, high columns of smoke rose up from the Belgian
artillery, which was harassing the German positions.
Here I also saw in action one of the 30·5 cm. Austrian howitzers
mentioned before. The clumsy monster was constantly being shunted on
a rail forward and backward, and at long intervals sent a gigantic
projectile to the threatened quarters. The sound was terrific, and the
pressure of the air made people at a great distance tremble on the
ground. The Austrian artillerists were still equipped as if they had to
fight in a rough, mountainous country; the soles of their shoes were
all over covered with hobnails.
The Red Cross Service was well arranged, the wounded were transported
regularly, a large number of motor-cars being used.
All soldiers and officers took the siege of the great fortress calmly,
convinced that at the most it would be able to hold out for very few
days. Reliable information soon gave me the same impression, although
I had wished it might have been quite different. When I left the scene
of the fight all the forts from Waelhem to St. Cathérine-Waver had been
silenced and in the hands of the Germans, who would soon attack the
inner circle of forts.
In Brussels the people seemed to be of a different opinion. German
reports about successes obtained were simply not believed, and people
persisted in their opinion that Antwerp would be invincible. The more
reports of victories the Germans posted on the walls, the more excited
people became, and palmed off upon each other all sorts of victories
of the Allies.
At the Café Quatre Bras, near Tervueren, the innkeeper told me that the
Germans had asked the Netherland Government for permission to place a
42 cm. on Netherland territory in order to be able to shell Antwerp
also from that side, but that the Netherland Government had refused.
I tried as hard as possible to explain to the man that all stories of
such requests were mere gossip. When more and more people entered the
café I withdrew into a corner. They were all very excited, and some of
them had drunk more than was good for them. They related with violent
gesticulations that the Allies had surrounded Brussels and might be
expected to enter the town at any moment, that all was over with the
Germans, and so on. Shouts of "Vive la Belgique!" and "Vive notre roi!"
sounded until suddenly I drew their attention. They looked me up and
down critically, and one of them asked:
"Who are you?"
"A Netherland journalist, who is trying to get news for his paper."
"What, a Netherlander!--a Netherlander! All traitors! You are helping
the Germans, but we are not afraid of either German or Netherlander."
They crowded threateningly round me, getting more and more excited.
I saw that I must act, and jumped on a chair.
"What," I exclaimed, "you dare to say that the Netherlanders act with
the Germans? No, shall I tell you something? The Germans have asked
the Netherland Government for permission to place a 42 cm. gun on
their territory to shell Antwerp from that side, but the Netherland
Government have refused."
"Lies, gossip."
"Lies, gossip? Ask the proprietor."
"Yes, men, what the gentleman says is true."
The rest was lost to me, for the men crowded round the innkeeper,
who now aired his knowledge about the occurrence and evidently spoke
with true conviction. At the end of the conversation they took their
tankards from the bar, and shouted and cried: "Ah, well, if that is so,
vive la Hollande! vive la Belgique! vive notre roi!" Suddenly we were
the best of friends.
In Louvain people would not believe that Antwerp was on the point of
surrendering, and persisted in the opinion that the fortress would hold
out much longer, and was in a better position than ever before.
The German officers at the commander's office were elated in
consequence of the reports received, and also told me that Antwerp
would not be able to hold out for more than two days. They also tried
to explain this to the people in the hall who were waiting for their
passports. I followed the conversation, but not very closely, and one
of the officers explained on a map what he asserted. Willy-nilly,
because they had to get their passports, the waiting people listened to
him. Suddenly I heard him say: "And after all we might have surrounded
Antwerp also on the north by crossing Netherland territory, as we did
when we invaded Belgium."
Those words gave me a shock, for I had heard that German officers
always tried to encourage the Belgians in their wrong opinion about the
alleged violation of Netherland neutrality, but I had not been able to
believe it. With an innocent face I asked the officer:
"Where did the Germans cross Netherland territory?"
"Near Maastricht. You know where Maastricht is?"
And he summoned me to look at the map, where he pointed out to me where
Maastricht was.
"Hullo!" I said, "but in those days I was in and about Maastricht, but
I never noticed anything of it."
"And yet it is so. Are you perhaps a Netherlander?"
"Oh yes, I am a Netherland journalist."
"Is that so? I beg your pardon, but won't you come with me? I suppose
that you want a passport. I will take you to the commander."
He was quite upset, and evidently thought that the best plan was to
muzzle me by taking me away from the others as quickly as possible.
I asked and got the commander's permission to travel to Liège by
military train, and from there to The Netherlands, not only for
myself, but also for a Netherland girl of nine years, whose parents in
Amsterdam had repeatedly and persistently asked me to see whether there
would be any possibility of letting their little girl come back from a
Louvain boarding-school. The Sisters with whom she was let her go with
me when I showed them a letter from her father. That child had already
seen a good deal! The Sisters had fled with all the children at the
time of the conflagration, and hidden themselves for days in a farm in
the neighbourhood.
During the last days hundreds of lads had left Louvain for The
Netherlands, and the migration went on throughout the whole occupied
part of Belgium. It was the exodus of the levies of 1914 and 1915,
who had been called up, and many of whom had been sent to Germany as
prisoners. The Germans themselves had not a little furthered the flight
of these crowds; by proclamations they had warned the lads not to try
to escape, for otherwise all of the levies of '14 and '15 would be
taken prisoners, and the parents of the fugitives would be punished. At
Heverlee and Louvain the lads of both levies had to present themselves
every Friday at this station. The consequence was that the following
Friday not one single boy of those levies was to be found in either
place.
No more wounded were taken to the hospitals of Louvain, as it had
been decided to send them straight on to Germany for the present; yet
there were many wounded men who were being nursed there already, and
the doctors had their hands full attending to the wounded who passed
the town. Dr. Noyons told me that the previous Sunday a train with 600
wounded had arrived from Northern France, and he and his assistants had
been requested "just" to dress the wounds again of some of them. The
condition of these unfortunate men must have been awful; not one had
a dressing less than eight days old. Most of them had had it on much
longer, and then these were merely emergency dressings. They were laid
on straw in cattle trucks, many of them even in filth, and infection
had worsened their condition to a great extent. Dr. Noyons and his
colleagues tried to give the poor fellows as much relief as possible,
but as a matter of course they could not do very much during a short
stay at a station.
The general condition of the town was not calmer during these last
days. New hostages were taken continually, and generally, as before,
they were clerics, in consequence of which the religious services were
in a continual muddle, and sometimes on Sundays no Holy Mass could
be said. Burgomaster Nerinx had now posted proclamations in which he
called for volunteers to serve as temporary hostages, instead of the
priests, during the hours of religious service. As if it were office
work they mentioned: "The service begins in the afternoon at ...
o'clock and will end after ... days at ... o'clock."
It was self-evident that very few were keen to offer themselves as
temporary substitutes for the clerics.
I have, happily, not seen much of the distressing flight of the Antwerp
population, as I happened to be at Liège when the fortress fell into
German hands. I went to Zundert viâ Maastricht and Breda, in order
to go to the conquered fortress from that Netherland frontier-town,
north-east of Antwerp.
A good many refugees were on their way to The Netherlands, but the
bulk of the crowd had passed before my visit along the long road which
I walked now in the opposite direction. I did not arrive in Antwerp
before nightfall and was then very tired. The town was dark, dismal,
and deserted, and only German soldiers went about in the streets,
apparently looking in vain for a shop or café where they might find
some diversion. I myself, exhausted by a walk of twenty-five miles,
sauntered along, constantly looking for some place or other to pass the
night. Not a shop or hotel was open, and yet my stomach was craving for
food, my body for rest. At last I met a policeman and told him of my
difficulty.
"Yes, sir," he answered, "that will be difficult enough. Everybody has
fled, even my own wife and children. I remained because I thought it
was my duty, and now I have been tramping through the streets already
for over twenty-four hours, without being relieved. It seems that by
far the greater number of my colleagues fled also."
"Don't you think you could find me some hotel, or private people who
might put me up?"
"I am very much afraid I shan't be able, but come along, and we'll try
together."
So we went from street to street, without any result. He rang the bell
at many houses where he knew that acquaintances lived, but always in
vain, and at last the kind man had to give it up.
I went on by myself, and arrived at last in a street where I noticed a
light in a house. When I came near, I stood opposite a small café, with
"Lodgings" over the door. I was hardly able to go on, and did not care
whether it was "lodgings" or "hotel," if I could only get in somewhere.
But I did not stop long, for after a good look round it seemed
the best to try and get away as quickly as possible, and in that
I succeeded. One understands, however, that it was a terrific
disappointment for a man so tired to leave again after thinking that he
had at last found a place for rest. At length I found an hotel near the
Central Station.
Antwerp had suffered from the horror of war. The bombardment had
destroyed many beautiful quarters almost entirely, and even damaged
badly a number of hospitals. Of course the loss of many lives had to be
deplored.
The next day I had the pleasure of an interview with Cardinal Mercier,
whose residence in Antwerp I had been able to find out at last. A
wealthy lady had offered his Eminence her grand house. In one of the
rooms I waited for the arrival of the cardinal, the Metropolitan of the
Belgian Church Provinces, who, both as a prelate and a patriot, had
been tried so sorely in this war, which ravaged both his university
town and his episcopal town. Although he was exceedingly busy, his
Eminence had the kindness to grant me an audience.
As I was still musing about the tragedy of this venerable personality
in these hard days of war, the door was opened suddenly and his spare
figure stood before me. It was a moment full of emotion, and perhaps I
might not have recovered myself so quickly if the kind prelate had not
met me with so much kindness.
After his Eminence had allowed me to kiss his ring, he asked me to
sit down. I had now a good opportunity to notice how grief dwelt on
his entirely spiritualised face, in its frame of white hair. But his
extraordinary kindness in intercourse did not leave him for one moment.
In connection with the summons, which had been sent in the name of the
archdiocese to _De Tijd_, and had been proclaimed in all the churches
of Antwerp in the morning, his Eminence insisted that it should be
printed in its entirety, as very many priests had taken refuge in The
Netherlands, whose help was pressingly wanted in the arch-diocese in
many of the parishes.
And he went on to say that he desired especially, most fervently the
return of the fled population.
"Really, in all sincerity," he said, "no danger need be feared. I
should be very grateful if the newspapers in The Netherlands would draw
attention to the following promises which the German authorities gave
me, and authorised me to make in their name:--
"1. The young men need not fear that they will be taken to Germany in
order to serve in the German army, or be compelled to do any work.
"2. Should the police regulations be infringed anywhere by some
individuals, the authorities will find the guilty parties and punish
them, without attributing the guilt to the entire population.
"3. The German and Belgian authorities will do everything in their
power to prevent scarcity of food."
"Your Eminence may permit me to remark that the second clause
especially is very important and much more comforting than a previous
declaration of the Imperial Governor, that owing to occasional
mistakes he cannot prevent the innocent population from having to
suffer with those who are guilty. May I ask, has this favourable result
been obtained by your personal intervention?"
"That is to say ... yes. I have suggested these measures and they have
been consented to. I hope that they may induce all the refugees in
The Netherlands to return at once. A press bureau in your country has
circulated the report that I too had planned to fly. There was no truth
in it at all. It was my duty not to leave my people, is not that so?
The shepherd must stay with his sheep, the vicars must do the same, and
those who went away must therefore come back."
"Your Eminence visited Malines last Tuesday, I have been told. I may
perhaps ask how you found the condition of the cathedral and the town?"
The cardinal's face was overclouded suddenly, and quietly he answered:
"Pardon me, it is perhaps better not to say a word about that for the
moment. We are living through difficult times."
I understood and respected the restraint of the Belgian primate, who
went on then:
"Tuesday of next week I hope to be at Malines again, and on the 20th
of this month the administrative service of the archdiocese will be
reinstalled."
"Then you will stay again at the episcopal palace, your Eminence?"
"Yes, certainly. It will take time of course, but the damage done to
the St. Rombout church and the palace is not irreparable; the church
has suffered very much, the spire is less damaged."
"Much will be needed to repair what has been damaged in this
unfortunate country."
"Yes, yes. An immense amount will be necessary. We are about to form
committees; but so much is needed. In England they are also forming
committees, and I have received money already from England, Scotland,
and Ireland, and The Netherlands...."
For a moment he gave way to emotion. He hesitated for a few seconds,
and I saw tears in his eyes. He then went on with a trembling voice:
"The Netherlands is a generous country. How grateful, how immensely
grateful am I to the Netherland people for what they have done for poor
refugees. I cannot sufficiently express my gratitude. I have received
reports from priests who came back, and I am deeply moved by them. They
told me how at Roosendaal the Netherland soldiers gave all their bread
to the refugees, knowing well that for some time they themselves would
not get any other. No! I can never be sufficiently grateful for such
sacrifices. And Catholics and non-Catholics all joined in it. That is
beautiful, very, very beautiful."
"Your Eminence, what The Netherlands did for the poor Belgians came
from the heart of the people, and I know for certain that the Catholics
will be eager to contribute to the rebuilding of the destroyed churches
and houses."
"The Netherlands has done already so much, but if it would come to the
assistance of our unfortunate people also in this way it would greatly
gladden the archiepiscopal government, who will be only too happy to
accept gifts in these difficult times; and perhaps the Right Reverend
Netherland bishops may be willing to send the gifts for this purpose
to us. We might then distribute those gifts among the parishes in the
country which have suffered most."
"Well, in any case, your Eminence, I promise to bring it to the
knowledge of the Catholics in The Netherlands, and you may rely upon
their readiness. But now I will not take more of your valuable time,
which you give so zealously to the poor and the unfortunate. I thank
you very much for having granted me this audience."
"It was in the interests of our suffering country, and we are those who
ought to be grateful. May I insist once more that you ask our refugees
to come back to Antwerp and don't omit to state the three favourable
regulations...."
His Eminence then got up, kindly offered me his hand, the ring on which
I kissed, and escorted me to the door in the amiable, simple way of
which I shall retain the memory for ever.
I can see now once more how little Germans care about the given word.
They asked and obtained from Cardinal Mercier his co-operation to
incite the population to return, but the cardinal, always anxious to
safeguard his compatriots, made conditions to which they consented.
The first of them was that no young man should be taken to Germany, or
compelled to work. Now how many lads are not already in Germany, how
many have not been compelled, especially in both the Flanders, to do
work for the Germans? And were not loyal people who refused to do it
imprisoned? Yes! Did not these violators of law and right proclaim that
all appeal to international agreements would be useless? "We shall no
longer punish a whole population for the deeds of individuals," they
also promised Cardinal Mercier. But many communities have had fines and
taxes imposed upon them in consequence of the offence of one individual.
And although they also promised to do everything in their power
to prevent lack of food in Belgium, they have bled to death the
unfortunate country by continuous impositions and taxes, and thrown
many into poverty and misery.
Yes, in the most scandalous manner they have violated the promises
which the Germans gave Cardinal Mercier. But what signifies a word if
treaties are only "scraps of paper?"