A COLLOQUY
I had been in prison then for two years, seeing nothing outside but
the sky and a wall pierced by some fifty iron-barred windows. For two
short hours, one year before, as stated in the previous chapter, I had
been granted the privilege to walk on the streets, to breathe the free
atmosphere of the city. My general health was bad. I could neither read
nor sleep. Mentally I was seriously depressed. I had abandoned all hope
of regaining my liberty before the end of hostilities.
But one day the old jail physician, a very kind man, Dr. Becker,
visited me in my cell. We had previously talked together on medical
matters. He knew, of course, that I was habitually called to attend the
sick during the twenty-three hours he was absent every day from the
prison. He had placed at my disposal his little dispensary. Indeed,
from the medical point of view, one can truthfully say that between the
prison doctor and myself diplomatic relations were never severed.
The object of his visit to me now was to inquire about my health. He
had noticed that my general appearance left much to be desired.
“Well, how are you?” he asked on entering my cell.
“Bad,” I replied.
“I am truly sorry,” the doctor remarked. “I have observed lately that
you appeared to be far from well.”
“The fact is,” I told him, “I cannot sleep nor eat. I am very nervous,
and I feel weak and depressed.”
The old German practitioner eyed me critically through his spectacles,
and it seemed to me that through his glasses I could see reflected a
feeling of genuine sympathy.
“But,” he urged, “you are a physician. You know, perhaps, just what it
is that is particularly ailing you.”
“Nothing more than the effects of continuous, close confinement,” I
answered. “You know, I have been deprived of fresh air and exercise for
the past two years.”
“But, surely,” he exclaimed, “you go out when you feel so disposed!”
“What do you mean?” I asked him. “Do you profess to believe that I have
the privilege of going out of the prison for exercise, according to my
free will?”
“I do,” the doctor replied.
“Well,” I rejoined, “all I have to say is that I cannot understand
how you, the doctor of this prison, have never learned that during
the two years I have been here I–like every other prisoner–never am
permitted to go on the street. I may say that during this period the
only occasion on which I was allowed to go outside was just one year
ago. I was then granted special leave to visit the stores to buy a
few things necessary to my departure for Belgium. I had been promised
liberty, and the promise was not fulfilled. With the exception of this
outing of two hours, I have been confined within the walls of this
prison continuously for the past two years. You know how vitiated the
atmosphere of these corridors becomes, since hundreds of prisoners must
traverse them every morning as they are engaged in the work of cleaning
their cells after thirteen hours’ seclusion therein. You know the yard
in which we are permitted to spend a few hours each afternoon. You know
as well as I do that when one has walked seventy paces he has traversed
the whole limit of the three sides of the triangle. This yard is
bounded by walls seventy-five feet high; thirty-five toilet cabinets,
as well as the cell windows and the kitchens, open on to it, and I
believe its atmosphere is even worse than that I breathe in my cell.”
“Well,” said the doctor after listening to me with an air of pained
attention, “I am surprised. Why don’t you make application to the
authorities asking to be allowed to go into the city, for a daily walk?
I will support your demand.”
I thought the opportunity favorable to tell the doctor what I thought
of the arbitrary conduct the authorities had shown towards me.
“Well, you will excuse me,” I said, “if I say that I cannot act upon
your kind suggestion. It has become impossible for me to ask any favor
from the German Government.”
“Why?” he asked.
“Because each and every fair, reasonable and just request which I have
hitherto made has been either ignored or refused. God only knows how
many requests and petitions I have addressed to the German authorities
during the last two years.”
“What did you ask for in particular?” he inquired.
“First,” I said, “I protested against my internment, pointing out that
in my quality of physician it was contrary to international laws to
keep me in captivity. In reply, I was told there was no documentary
proof that I was a doctor. This was at the beginning of my captivity.
Through the American Embassy I obtained from the Canadian College of
Physicians and Surgeons, and from the university from which I was
graduated, the documents which established that I was a licensed and
practising physician. I was informed in the month of October, 1914,
that these documents had been remitted to the competent authorities
here, in Berlin. I then renewed my demand for liberty. I repeated over
and over again my requests, but without any other results than that of
seeing, after two or three months’ anxiety and trouble, an officer of
the Kommandantur who came and took my deposition to prove why I came to
Belgium in the first place and what I had done in that country since my
arrival. All these things the authorities had known for a long time.
I had to sign an insignificant transcript of the proceedings made by
the officer, who left me with an ill-concealed air of mockery at my
misfortunes.
“My wife,” I went on, “was taken ill. For many months her illness
advanced. The news received each week from my children and the doctor
indicated clearly that recovery was hopeless. I begged to be allowed
to visit my wife. I received no answer to my request. During the last
two weeks of her illness I was notified by telegram that the case was
urgent and I was urged to hasten to my wife’s bedside. I besieged the
Kommandantur with daily petitions for leave of absence, but no answer
was vouchsafed. I offered to pay the expenses of two soldiers to
accompany me from Berlin to Antwerp, and to return the next day. This
request was curtly refused. My correspondence was held up for about
twelve days and during that critical time I was without news of my
family, and after these twelve days of unspeakable anguish an officer
informed me that my wife was dead. I implored him to go immediately
to the Kommandantur and ask permission to accompany me to Antwerp and
Capellen that I might be present at the funeral. His reply was ‘Madam
was buried two days ago!’
“You will understand, doctor, that after being treated in such
an inhuman manner, it is quite impossible, while I maintain my
self-respect, to ask for any favor from the German Government. I was
refused justice when I entreated for what was just. I have nothing to
demand now.”
My statement perceptibly saddened and embarrassed the old doctor.
Apparently I had opened his eyes to a phase of German mentality which
he had not hitherto realized. He hesitated for a few seconds and then
promised that he would at once take steps to alleviate my suffering and
relieve some of the pressure of the hard prison regime.
He fulfilled his promise. Two days afterward instructions were received
which bore this out. At the same time it should be remembered that the
German authorities were mindful of the possibility of reprisals from
Great Britain after the fact had become known in London that my health
was seriously threatened by my internment. The new instructions now
issued to the jail authorities stipulated that I was to be permitted to
go out of the jail on two afternoons of each week, under the escort of
a non-commissioned officer. I was to be allowed to walk in a certain
park, but must not communicate with anybody during my promenades.
Moreover, the officer and his prisoner were to make the short journey
to the park and return by railway. I, of course, at once availed myself
of this privilege to go out and breathe the fresh air twice a week,
and this contributed to a very appreciable extent to re-establish my
health, physically and mentally.