The winter of 1916-17 proved more trying even than that preceding it.
After the tyres were taken, came a demand for copper, and everyone
was ordered to convey to central depôts all the specified articles he
possessed in this metal.
This meant, for Belgians, not only the deprivation of kitchen utensils
and other things necessary to a household, but, even more bitter, it
meant providing the enemy with material to slaughter brothers and
friends. Consequently every means was resorted to to avoid obedience,
without incurring the drastic punishment promised all who resisted.
Copper was hidden under floors, in carefully-replastered and repapered
walls, under the earth in gardens and under coal in cellars—all such
things as were then demanded, but, alas! not those demanded a short
time later.
Treacherous servants rendered this defiance more perilous, as no one
was sure not to be sold by a trusted butler or valet. The butler of
one woman we knew had been with her for twenty years; and to him,
as her husband and sons were at the front, she confided not only
the hiding of copper but the fact that a younger son with her aid
had crossed the frontier. He rewarded her confidence by insolently
ignoring his position as servant and assuming an attitude of equality
with her. Every order she gave was referred to another servant, while
the butler sat comfortably in the drawing-room, smoking cigarettes
in her presence! We ourselves were obliged to unearth our carefully
buried copper at midnight and rebury it in another place owing to the
dismissal of a gardener who had assisted at the first interment! Not
that he threatened to betray us, and more than likely he would not
have done so, but the consequences were too serious to risk.
Examples were made of those found to have hidden their copper, who
not only had every particle of the metal taken, but in some cases
were pillaged of all valuables, fined, and imprisoned. Neutrals were
not exempt, and a story was told me of a Swiss family who offered
resistance when their home was invaded by armed soldiers. After
ordering the men out, they threatened to send for Belgian police,
and were at once subjected to the most abominable treatment. Every
ornament, lock, and door-handle of brass or copper was wrenched
off; chandeliers were ruthlessly dragged from the ceilings; and the
soldiers, after causing general havoc, announced, on departing, that
a van would come the following day to take away piano, pictures, and
other things of value. I cannot say if this threat was carried out,
nor can I vouch for the story, as it came to me third-hand. But I
myself witnessed one of these plundering raids, when a Belgian’s house
was entirely gutted, and can relate the experience of a Greek family
told me by the daughter, whom I knew well. They too, as neutrals,
ignored the order to deliver their household goods, and, since they
had not attempted to conceal them, were astounded when the soldiers
arrived.
“Why do you come to us who are in no way implicated in the war?”
demanded the Hellenic matron; and the plunderer replied: “That is of
no consequence; all must obey, neutral or not neutral! We need the
copper, that is enough.”
“But I need it too!” argued the lady. “What am I to do without my pots
and kettles? It’s an outrage to treat Greeks as you do your enemies!”
“Greeks!” roared the soldier; “what have the Greeks done for us? If
they are not fighting us to-day, they will be to-morrow!”
“But we are really your allies!” ventured the lady, changing her
tactics; “although Greek by birth, my husband is a Turk by adoption.”
“Good!” was the reply. “If you are our allies you should yield
_everything_ without a murmur, and should have done so long ago. Since
you have not done this, which it was your duty to do, we shall take
everything you possess in copper or brass—even your ornaments!”
And they did! There were few Belgian houses more thoroughly robbed
of the desired metal than was the house of these _pretended_ German
allies!
The ever-dreaded visits from soldiers were like swords of Damocles
hanging over our heads. No one dared leave his house for any length
of time, for fear of returning to find it ransacked and looted, and
himself perhaps under arrest because a forgotten _Times_ or other
forbidden literature had been discovered. An innocent conscience did
little to allay this fear, as many persons were imprisoned on the
slightest excuse. Even when liberated later, they had every detail
pried into of their private life, correspondence, and financial
circumstances, besides being held in close confinement and intense
suspense for two or three weeks, often much longer.
One entire family we know, a family of high standing in Brussels,
was arrested upon suspicion, not excepting the delicate mother. She
was confined in a cell for seven weeks, pending investigation—which
failed to find any proof of guilt on her part or that of the others.
Neither they nor anyone knew why they were seized, save that the son
was suspected of having received or passed on the _Libre Belgique_.
After a trial that led to no definite verdict of guilt the family was
liberated, but obliged to pay a fine of twenty thousand marks!
Not only were suspected persons arrested, but their close friends and
everyone who innocently happened to call at their homes after, or at
the time of their arrest.
In the offices of a business friend of ours, an employé failed to
appear one morning, and a young girl typewriter was sent to his house
to learn the reason of his absence. As she did not reappear, another
employé was sent in quest of her, who also did not return. In the
afternoon the typewriter’s mother came to inquire why her daughter had
not gone home for dinner at midday; and, on being told whither the
latter had gone, she hastened to the absent clerk’s house, fearing
some calamity had befallen the girl. When she too failed to return,
our friend’s mystification became apprehension. He appealed to the
police, who informed him all had been arrested as possible accomplices
of the suspected clerk, who was afterwards proven quite innocent, and
liberated.
Such circumstances naturally kept everyone in a state of nervous
tension.
A rather interesting and significant fact in regard to these raids
was the change of demeanour shown by those obliged to do this work
during the second copper requisition in the autumn of 1917. These men
were late recruits, usually young fellows, dragged from honourable
occupations to serve their bitter time in the trenches, and forced
to perform this distasteful service during intervals of rest. At
the house of an acquaintance of ours two soldiers of this type very
politely asked permission to search for copper, entered, looked about
in a half-hearted manner; then, after grunting, “_S’gut; hier gibts
nichts_,” said they were very tired, and asked permission, which was
granted, to lie on two sofas in a back sitting-room and sleep for half
an hour!
Our place was raided at this period by two such tired lads, fresh from
the trenches and expecting to return to action in a few days.
When they first entered one assumed an autocratic manner, made rather
ludicrous by his frail physique and boyish countenance; but, after
we exchanged with him a few words in his native tongue, this bearing
disappeared. The two looked through the house indifferently, and,
as all metal such as they sought had been hidden, found nothing.
They kindly hinted, however, that some brass beds and gas-heating
installations would be taken at a later raid should they be found
there!—a hint we acted upon at once. Some few articles of silver
remained in the dining-room for daily use;—the rest was secreted,
as many families, on one excuse or another, had already been robbed
of their silverware. One, a finely-worked fruit-dish, purchased as
solid silver and, as we thought, not likely to be seized, because of
the workmanship, was subjected to a damaging filing process which
revealed it as heavily plated on copper. Although the amount of copper
contained was certainly too insignificant to be worth having, the
fruit-stand was claimed, and noted on a card to be called for later.
However, it was hidden, and one of less artistic value set in its
place before that predicted call!
It is only fair to conjecture that many instances of inexcusable
brutality to which the Belgians were subjected were caused by a stupid
fear, on the soldiers’ part, of not strictly obeying orders, rather
than by any individual wish to cause pain; although in some cases it
was quite the opposite.
During the first year of war a rather amusing incident occurred as
proof of this. At that time certain neutral business men were allowed
to go to and return from Holland by motor. They were provided with
special passes. Two friends of mine, who were associated in business,
usually made the trip together. But despite their possession of passes
signed and stamped by the German Government, they were held up at
the frontier, and subjected to galling examination and insolence by
a new batch of officials lately installed. As these unnecessary and
lengthy delays greatly impeded my friend’s affairs, he complained at
headquarters. But the Prussian chiefs could not be persuaded that he
was not exaggerating the difficulties, and, after assuring him his
passes would serve him better in future, put the matter out of mind.
Nevertheless, on his next trip my friend and his companion experienced
the same detention and bullying at the hands of these frontier
officials.
The former again complained; and, as his word was still doubted, asked
that an officer in civil dress might accompany him on his next trip
and witness for himself what took place.
This being granted, he, with his associate, and a young Prussian
officer, disguised in plain clothes, drove together to the frontier.
On arriving there they were—as usual—held up, ordered to leave the
car, and enter a bare waiting-room. Here their papers were taken from
them, and, while the officials in charge disappeared on pretence of
examining these, they were left sitting in the cold compartment,
guarded by two armed soldiers.
One quarter of an hour passed in silence; their accompanying officer
made no comment. But when more than twenty minutes went by without the
least sign of deliverance, he became restive, glanced at his watch
several times, and looked black. Moments had stretched to close upon
an hour when the disguised military chief, having until now shown the
self-control of discipline, brought his clenched hand heavily down on
the wooden table by which he sat, and exclaimed loud, “_Aber, das ist
unverschämt!_ What the devil are those men——”
Before he could finish the sentence, one of the soldiers on guard
seized him, bellowing, “What’s that? You speak insolently of German
officials? Good! We’ll soon teach you manners!”
At a sign, the other soldier approached; the two burly creatures
grasped their helpless superior before he could utter a word, and
dragged him to an outstanding lock-up house, where, thrusting him
into a corner, they proceeded with their punishment, two against one,
striking him even in the face with their brutal fists, and permitting
him no chance to speak.
The officials, attracted by the loud voices and scuffle, reappeared
just after the enlightened German had been dragged out.
“_Was ist los?_” demanded one, looking about.
“Your men are about to kill that chap out there,” said my friend,
who, with his companion, galled as they were by the unfairness of
the attack, had refrained from interfering. To have done so would
have expressed contempt of military discipline; moreover, they were
secretly pleased that the officer should have his eyes morally opened,
if physically closed, by blows intended for a civilian guilty only of
an impatient exclamation!
“_Ach!_” returned the official, shrugging his shoulders; “if they
are beating him he deserves it!—that’s our orders. We submit to no
resistance here!”
“Very good,” returned my friend; “but have you looked at that man’s
papers? Do you know who he is?”
“Bah! What’s that to me?” returned the surly brute, who held the still
unexamined passes in his hand. “Our discipline is indifferent to rank;
he may be who he may!”
“If you glance at his papers you may think differently;—he is
Lieutenant von ——, aide-de-camp to General von ——.”
The official stared; his mouth fell open. “Eh?” he articulated in
his throat, too astounded to utter a word; then, nervously dropping
other papers to the floor, he sought the officer’s pass, read the
signature, and, followed by his colleague and the others, rushed
for the lock-up house. It was then that my friend saw the helpless
lieutenant, pressed into a corner, being brutally pommelled by the two
soldiers.
Poor man! he was a sight to behold when he joined them later—nose
distorted, one eye swollen and blackening, and several ugly cuts on
his face. He said very little when rejoining his companions; but,
judging by the meek demeanour of the bully officials, some truths had
been told them they were not likely to forget, which made it clear
they would pay dearly for carrying their habitual abuse of authority
into the wrong camp!
The lieutenant, as they pursued their journey, could not refrain from
smiling at the comic side of the affair. He appeared, however, morally
shocked, and the few remarks he made suggested this significance: “The
German man is a brute at heart!” When in authority, he certainly
appears so, especially when endowed with military power—the sacred
fetish of his race!
It was under the constant menace of similar treatment that the
inhabitants of occupied Belgium existed. Galled by pitiless
impositions; denied all freedom of action or word; robbed and
deprived even of home privacy; spied upon and never knowing on what
false charge one might be arrested, one could do nothing but endure.
Rebellion would have been unavailing against armed forces, and only
cause additional misery to others.
One of the pathetic sights of the “copper winter” was to see
well-dressed women carrying some treasured object in copper or brass,
concealed in a neat package, to be buried in some friend’s garden.
Even sadder was it to view the military depôts for the collection
of household necessities or ornaments. Bronze statues (one Belgian,
with pleasure, sent a bronze bust of the Kaiser—which was returned to
him), gas-fixtures, handles of doors and bureaus, clocks, stair-rods,
curtain-bars, etc., were hurled, pell-mell, in a great heap before the
grieving eyes of those despoiled, who were paid four francs a kilo
for the metal, in whatever beautiful and artistic form. And these
things—the sole fortune of many—were to be utilized to slay their
husbands, brothers, fathers, and sons! No wonder every effort was made
to defy the command, and that some even melted their things rather
than yield them!
This the enemy failed to understand. With native lack of sensitiveness
for other people’s feelings, the Germans argued that, as Germany had
made the sacrifice, Belgians should do so as readily! That was always
their reply to appeals for consideration. They appeared quite blind
to the fallacy of such reasoning, but took pains to announce in their
home papers the Belgians were selling their copper in order to buy
food!
That autumn became a season of secret interments, for not only copper
but certain preserved edibles were buried to escape the vampire’s
greed, and in anticipation of the famine obviously approaching. What
the Alimentation Commission provided was so little for each individual
that hunger reigned generally, not only among those who depended
wholly on charity. The latter, indeed, were better off than many
British women and others formerly well-to-do; and everyone who could
sought to lay by something for a still more trying hour.
These silent midnight burial-parties were not devoid of a comic side,
despite their pathetic object. Whole families gathered in the dark
of their gardens, busy about a yawning grave, wherein a red-glazed
lantern afforded dim light invisible from the surface. No word was
spoken by the shadowy forms consigning food and treasure to the
earth’s faithful keeping. All was done in silent haste, in order that
every suspicious trace might be obliterated before dawn. Bushes and
even small trees were planted above the graves, and stood innocently
smiling in autumn leaf when the sun arose!
Food grew daily scarcer and dearer. With the entrance of the United
States into the war it seemed as though Belgium was doomed to famine.
The laying up of provisions that could not be buried, even by those
who could afford it, was dangerous, since they were forbidden, and
could not be concealed from the prying eyes of soldiers likely at any
moment to enter our houses. Consequently the winter of ’17-’18, with a
great scarcity of coal and the probability of being deprived of gas,
was looked forward to with dread.
During the summer every patch of ground, even road-edgings, was
cultivated. Vacant fields were divided into small patches and given to
the poor to till and plant; potatoes especially were grown, for during
the preceding winter there had been a great dearth of this mainstay
of the poorer classes. Now, however, it was not only the indigent who
feared starvation. The well-to-do and even the rich anticipated being
deprived not only of the better edibles to which they were accustomed,
but even of necessities. Consequently flower-beds and lawns of
private estates were tilled to raise potatoes, beans, sprouts,
etc. Our own croquet-ground was converted into a potato-patch;
the rose-garden produced cabbages, onions, and beets, while the
tennis-court netting served to support climbing beans! But ill-fortune
made that summer, in regard to weather, the worst Belgium could
remember for many years, as the winter before had been one of the most
severe. Continual rain destroyed a large proportion of the potatoes
and greatly injured other crops.
It was pitiable to see farmers who, deprived of their horses,—for
the Germans had taken all,—had tilled their fields, foot by foot,
with spades (the more fortunate with slow and stubborn oxen), and
had laboured from dawn till dark to make them flourish, gazing in
wide-eyed despair upon acres of rain-blackened rye or blight-ruined
potatoes. As the Germans claimed a large percentage of all produce,
this misfortune raised the price of ordinary vegetables, poor as they
were, so high that only the rich could afford them. The poor were
obliged to subsist on the two potatoes a day per head which—until
their stock was exhausted—the “National Alimentation Committee”[1]
provided.
[1] “Le Comité National,” Belgian organization for distributing
food-stuffs provided by the American Commission for relief.
Not far from us, on a narrow strip of grass-land bordering a wood, two
poor women “whose husbands were fighting” had planted vegetables for
their own use during the winter. They were mothers of several small
children, but despite this care and their household duties, they were
at work there at the first glimmer of day. They went home only at
midday to procure the charity soup and warm it for their children,
then returned to labour until dark. It seemed impossible that anything
could thrive in such a shadowed place, but a weak crop of potatoes,
cabbages, and beans presently appeared, only to be partly destroyed by
rain, while much of what survived was stolen later by those who had no
land to cultivate.
However, after the roots had begun to form and until the potatoes
were ripe, these women never left the spot unguarded. One or the other
remained there the entire day and night, rain or shine, as did all
who had unprotected ground. They erected a primitive sort of shelter,
composed of every conceivable thing they could find: bits of rusty
tin and old carpets, for the most part, as wood was too dear and too
much needed for fuel. Ah, they suffered, these people!—suffered as
no one can understand who did not see their daily struggle to live.
Young and old women went tramping for hours and _days_ through the
woods to gather dry twigs and bear them home in great bundles on their
backs;—not only the usual poor wretch, whose patient drudgery so well
serves the landscape-painter, but many women who were formerly in
comfortable circumstances, now blue with cold and pinched with hunger,
trudged through the rain-oozing dead leaves of the woods.
Later, they went entirely without shoes, for all leather was taken by
the Germans; and until wooden sabots could be produced in sufficient
numbers to meet the demand, women and children were to be seen with
their feet shod only by bits of carpet and often without stockings.
Their patience under these miserable conditions was extraordinary.
When told they could have no coal, they made no murmur, but set out
to gather twigs as though realizing the uselessness of rebellion, and
only impelled by an instinctive impulse of self-preservation.
Many hundreds of trees were felled each winter for exportation and
other German uses, and the poor swarmed where this was done, waiting
eagerly until each superb tree crashed to earth, when they swooped
down upon it, like hungry vultures, each securing what he could of the
lesser branches, to ensure him some warmth during the cold months.
These hapless creatures, terrified by the approach of another season
of bitter winds, ice, and snow, gradually became desperate, and were
ready to commit any crime to obtain food and fuel. Stealing became
more and more common, especially from landed peasants who, owing to
the high prices they demanded for their produce, were looked upon as
legitimate prey. To some extent this was deserved; but the peasant,
after working his very life into the soil, was obliged to resign so
much of his crops to the Germans that he would have gained nothing
had he sold at normal prices. Potatoes, even in September of this
year (1917), were selling at three francs fifty and four francs a
kilo, butter at thirty francs rising to forty-eight later, sugar at
twelve rising to twenty, coffee at ninety, tea at one hundred and
more, while eggs rapidly mounted from seventy-five centimes to two
francs sixty each; flour, outside the 250 grams allowed for bread, was
unobtainable. The Comitié National provided certain edibles at a low
price, but hardly sufficient for each individual to keep body and soul
together.
I was told by one of those who assisted in the difficult and arduous
task of dividing the shiploads sent over from the United States
and elsewhere, that supplies had to be calculated, most minutely,
to the last box of matches, in order that each individual in all
parts of ravaged Belgium should have a share. Their labours were of
incalculable worth, and are not likely ever to be adequately estimated.
As for coal, which the Germans were shipping from Belgium in great
quantities to their own country, or exchanging for other commodities,
with Switzerland and other countries, it was only to be had through
the _accapareurs_. These went on foot with push-carts to Charleroi,
or were conveyed there by any wretched beasts they could find, and
bribed the German sentinels to let them return with small amounts of
coal, for which they demanded two hundred and fifty francs and more
a ton. Even at this price it was under weight, and mingled with dust
and stones. The use of gas was consequently greatly restricted. In
September an _Avis_ announced an increase in its price and a still
more trying limitation, the exceeding of which would be punished by
entire deprivation, not to mention a heavy fine. Buildings occupied
by Germans, however, were stated to be exempt from these restrictions.
The occupying powers seized everything they wanted. The entire
contents of dry-goods and other ware-shops were requisitioned;
food-stores, when not deliberately stolen, were bought up in bulk by
the officers, and sent home to their families in Germany. Even the
shooting of the game with which the woodlands about Brussels were well
stocked was forbidden to all save the army. The Bois and adjacent
woods resounded, during the shooting season, with the report of German
hunting-pieces destroying partridge and pheasant preserves, and that
even on private property; but a young Belgian lad, caught poaching not
far from the place where we lived, was shot in the act and left where
he fell.
These men with guns cared little for the sufferings of the unarmed and
famished people under their control, and found it easier to punish
petty opposition to their laws of greed by a bullet than by trial
or imprisonment. Their victims were numerous. One boy, whose family
I knew, was shot and badly wounded for trying to smuggle from the
country two kilos of potatoes, not for sale, but for the needs of his
family.
Naturally, such conditions led in time to dishonesty. The people
became desperate, and, finding they could secure food by risking
their lives, presently developed the idea of gaining fortune by the
same means. Reckless of an existence so rife with misery, they became
more daring; and then it was that the _accapareurs_ appeared, by
whose courage and clever trickery the rich, at least, were provided
with edibles that would otherwise have gone to Germany. These petty
smugglers (not the great ones, who cornered large quantities of
food-stuffs and concealed them against the hour of dearth) were, in
a way, a God-send to those who could afford to pay their prices;
but their morals suffered further degeneration when greater numbers
adopted this scheme for rapid money-making. Their gains, however,
were not easily won, as they were obliged to walk many miles during
the night in all sorts of weather, to escape the German sentinels who
guarded the city limits and took all butter, eggs, potatoes, etc.,
discovered on the smugglers. The latter concealed their wares most
ingeniously, often in a manner not appetizing to reflect upon. Butter
was packed about their bodies under their clothing, eggs were securely
secreted in their hats, and potatoes were carried in sacks under the
women’s skirts and also in their blouses. For the smuggling of grain a
complete suit was worn, so arranged with pockets, that the grain was
distributed over the entire body. But the cleverest device was that of
a man who bribed a German soldier to sit with him on his donkey-cart
and, pretending he was under arrest, brought in a thousand francs’
worth of butter and eggs on one journey!
During that winter, when the enemy, menaced by defeat in the west,
was planning a new and desperate offensive, unhappy Belgium saw her
oppressed and hungry people degenerating into criminals. The better
sort remained loyal to their proud standard of honour before all,
but the destitute lower classes, physically enervated and morally
sickened, came gradually to look with contempt upon principles so
cynically ignored by those who governed them.
They saw rich and poor alike robbed with no adequate excuse, saw the
country’s wealth carried to Germany merely to enrich their enemies.
Even stud-farms were despoiled of those horses that had been the
nation’s pride, such as the _cheval de trait_, bred with care, through
many, many generations, to attain a point of perfection unequalled in
any other part of the world. Those superb Belgian horses were taken,
not for army use, but to be sold in Germany—as was announced later
on in a German paper. And not only the young animals, but champion
stallions and mares, especially those which were pregnant, were seized
in opposition to the appeals of their owners. To these appeals and to
the argument that it was understood that the occupying army should
take nothing not essential, von Bissing replied that, circumstances
being changed, the German Government was no longer bound to respect
its agreements: (“Les circonstances s’étant modifiées le gouvernement
allemand n’était plus en mesure de respecter ses engagements”).
The “circumstances” amounted to this—that Germany had the country
helplessly in her grip, and, foreseeing final victory, could
fearlessly throw more “scraps of paper” into the face of her hapless
victim!
A German bank commissary, an officer, entered the business house of
a prominent Brussels firm and desired information concerning certain
transactions. After an hour or two of investigation, he withdrew,
saying he would return presently to complete his work. Inadvertently
he left his portfolio behind, and the temptation to look into it
was not resisted by those who thus had a chance to learn something
of Germany’s secret devices regarding Belgium. On examining its
contents, they found a list of all the foremost business associations
in Brussels, with exact details as to their management, financial
standing, and relations with the outside world; also the director of
each was mentioned by name and estimated in regard to his influence
and worth.
The important foreign interests of the firm in question were set
forth, accompanied by a statement that it would be greatly to
Germany’s advantage to obtain control of the organization.
This was told me by one of the firm’s head managers, who added: “It
goes without saying we made good use of this chance enlightenment in
order to foil German designs.”
These intrusions into business houses were of daily occurrence, but,
in some cases, clever foresight rendered them of little avail to the
subtle intriguers.
In one instance, that of the Public Utilities Company, “La
Financière,” sixty-five million francs’ worth of Allied securities
(the major part of which were owned by British subjects) were saved by
the general manager’s sagacity. At the beginning of 1915, two German
officers, accompanied by twelve armed men, entered “La Financière”
building in quest of these securities, which they had been informed,
through some unknown source, were preserved there. The soldiers were
posted in all corridors to prevent any attempt to escape the seizure
by employés passing from one office room to another—a trick resorted
to by others on more than one occasion of perquisition! The general
manager, Mr. D. Heineman, an American, was then called, and bidden by
the officers to submit his books and vaults for examination. This he
did without the least hesitancy, having already—in anticipation of
such a visit—altered his books and removed the securities to a vault,
in the same building, sufficiently camouflaged to defy detection.
When the officers failed to find any trace of the desired deposits
they expressed surprise, and affirmed they had learned, on good
authority, such securities were held by the house. Mr. Heineman
replied the information was quite correct, but, as could be seen by
his books, the securities had been removed from Belgium at a certain
prior date.
Meanwhile dishonesty increased in the lower ranks. Even those employed
in the food organization filched sugar, rice, flour, etc., which they
sold secretly at enormous prices. Certain personal experiences may
illustrate the crafty ingenuity which prolonged sorrow and deprivation
gradually developed among the common people—occasionally, too, among
those of the better class, obliged for the first time in their lives
to suffer the degrading pangs of want.
Fruit, although there was plenty in the country, was shipped away in
such quantities that the inhabitants could only indulge in it as an
expensive luxury. One day, when I discovered a pushcart piled high
with nice-looking apples, at a price far lower than that demanded at
the market, I ordered five kilos to be taken home and paid for on
delivery. The youth who, with his mother, tended the cart agreed to
deliver them if his tram fare were paid in advance. As he had some
distance to go, this was willingly done, and a written line given him
for our butler, bidding him pay for the fruit at the stated price.
I then went on to visit a friend, who, on learning of the apples,
immediately wanted some and we set forth to revisit the cart.
We had, however, gone only a few yards, when I was astonished to see
the pushcart, attended by both the youth and his mother, standing
before a house a few doors below that of my friend, where they were
selling fruit.
“What does this mean?” I asked the youth. “You have not taken the
apples to my house!”
The young rascal, who had counted on never seeing me again, hung his
head, and murmured with seeming penitence, “Ah, I beg your pardon, but
it was so far to go, and I could not leave my poor mother to push the
cart alone.”
Although the best of the apples were now sold—for all save those on
top were miserable things—we each ordered five kilos of the fruit to
be delivered at my friend’s house. To obviate any more trickery we
remained by the cart while this was done, and only paid after seeing
the apples taken in by a servant; then went on to enjoy an unusually
lovely afternoon in the Bois, sure of having made a good enough
bargain, even though the fruit secured was only fit for cooking.
But my friend, on returning home an hour or so later, discovered we
had been worsted after all!
After waiting until we were out of sight, the fruit-sellers went back
to the house, and, presenting the pencilled line I had given and
failed to reclaim, stated that we had decided to purchase all the
remaining apples, at the price mentioned in the note. Consequently,
twenty odd kilos of remnant fruit, such as no one else would buy, were
landed at my friend’s house at a price more than double their worth!
On another occasion, when butter was unprocurable even at thirty
francs a kilo, two peasant-women came to our house with butter
smuggled in from the country, which they offered at twenty francs a
kilo. Eager as we were for it, but made cautious by experience, we
insisted upon tasting before buying. The women readily opened one
package, and, on finding it excellent, we agreed to take all they
had—five kilos; but, to prevent possible deception, we sampled each
package, all of which were equally good. We therefore joyously paid
the price, and, after contracting for more butter, and a quantity of
eggs to be delivered the following week, dismissed the women with our
blessings and sincere gratitude.
But, alackaday! when those glorious loaves of yellow butter were being
prepared an hour later for preservation, they were discovered to be
merely masses of filthy fat surrounding a large _betterave_, which
made up the weight, the whole cleverly covered with a thin layer of
good butter. Needless to say, the women never returned, and as it was
strictly forbidden to buy peddled butter, we could do nothing but grin
and bear it.
These fraudulent geniuses were products of the war, and no one who
witnessed the pain they bravely endured, for three years and more,
can justly condemn them.
And it was not only the poor who were driven to desperation by
the enemy’s robbery. Everyone, save the very rich, or the _Barons
Zeep_—the so-called soap-barons who made fortunes in secret relation
with the Germans—was reduced to hard straits. Clothing became
impossible to procure. Fashionable women were obliged to dye their
linen sheets for summer wear, their blankets and curtains for winter;
while club-men, in shiny trousers and frayed cuffs, were wont to
exchange laughing comparisons as to the condition of their other
wearing apparel, one likening his oft-patched pyjamas to Jacob’s coat
of many colours!
A pathetic instance of this dire need came to my notice one day as I
was trying to coax a farmer in the open fields to sell me potatoes—for
there was no other means of obtaining this article of food save by
buying surreptitiously, smuggling it home under cover of night, and
burying it underground.
While I was talking to the farmer, an elderly man slowly passed us—a
man evidently of good birth, whose clothes, though worn and shabby,
showed the cut of a good tailor. Soon after he had passed, the farmer
abruptly checked what he was saying to me and, with sullen eyes
directed toward another part of his acres, muttered, “Look at that!
They are all thieves, even the aristocrats!”
I looked, and saw the man referred to tugging frantically to uproot a
_carrot_!
The farmer uttered a loud and angry cry, which interrupted his
efforts. He rose without haste, and moved slowly away, his stick held
dejectedly behind him.
X
As may be seen, existence did not improve with time. Each month the
situation became darker and more alarming; and, after the United
States declared war, the few Americans, we among them, obliged to
remain in Brussels were hated by the occupying powers quite as
cordially as the English. But we who represented a nation not only
mighty in wealth and man-power, but of vast commercial importance
to Germany, were treated with far greater consideration than the
Belgians. Nevertheless, after the United States Minister, Consul, and
entire diplomatic corps departed, we felt more or less at the mercy of
that bullying tendency which power always brings out in the Prussian
military character.
The United States Consul, Mr. Ethelbert Watts—a man known for his
tactful handling of difficult situations and trained in diplomacy by
many years of service in the greater capitals—told me an instance of
this characteristic.
It was at the beginning of the third year of war. Among the forlorn
creatures he took under his protection was a young lad below
military age, a Belgian on the paternal side, whose mother, a widow
American-born, was then in the States. The lad and his sister had been
left in Brussels to await her return, but as she was unable to do so,
the two were soon reduced to deplorable straits. The sister found a
home through marriage, but no other improvement of circumstances. The
boy was taken into the consulate to assure him some means of support,
besides what the Consul personally allowed him. But when the Germans
began to seize young civilians, and send them to work in the trenches
or in Germany, the boy’s mother sent heart-broken appeals to have her
son, delicate and wholly unfit for such labour, shipped on to join
her. Although this appeared hopeless, the Consul, as representative
of a country still neutral, did his best to accomplish it. After much
labour and long argument he succeeded; the youth received a pass, and
was ready to leave on a certain date.
The evening before his departure for Holland, the Consul received a
hastily-scrawled note from the lad, stating that he had been arrested,
and was then locked up, he knew not why. It was too late to do
anything that evening, but the following morning the Consul went to
German headquarters to obtain an explanation.
He was received by a stout, red-faced superior officer, who at first
refused to answer questions, but finally announced that the boy was
suspected of espionage.
“May I ask upon what ground?” the Consul demanded politely.
“Upon several suspicious indications,” was the evasive reply; “he must
be held for further examination.”
“But his passage to America is booked for the day after to-morrow,”
urged the Consul. “He must leave Brussels to-day if he is to catch the
ship.”
The other shrugged, saying indifferently, “I regret that is
impossible.”
“But his pass has been given him, sir, and as I have personally
vouched for his integrity, I consider it only fair you should tell me
on what ’suspicious indications’ you hold him.”
After a lengthy and needless discussion, it was asserted that the
boy’s notebook betrayed he had carried letters, and delivered them to
several persons in the city.
At this Mr. Watts looked amazed. “Certainly,” he retorted; “he was in
my employ for that purpose, and I can prove to you that every letter
he conveyed related to legitimate consular business.”
After some more wrangling the notebook was produced, and this proven
to be true, but the stubborn tyrant showed no sign of yielding. The
proof could not be held as satisfactory until investigated. And so
forth and so forth, until, after another half-hour of futile talk,
the officer suddenly announced that the boy could on no condition be
liberated without the payment of a fine.
“It will be a matter of two thousand francs or so,” he complacently
added, confident of adding this amount to sums extorted daily from the
inhabitants on one pretence or another. “Of course, as the boy has no
means, payment may be made by anyone who....”
There he was abruptly stopped, for the American’s rage, already at
boiling-point, could no longer be controlled. Although a less robust
and considerably older man, the Consul sprang aggressively to his feet.
“Not one centime shall be paid!” he cried, shaking a defiant finger
under the officer’s very nose; “and if that boy is not liberated
to-day, my Government shall hear of the matter in every detail by
cable!”
His face was white, and the flame in his eyes drove some red from the
Prussian’s face. The latter’s tactics immediately changed. “Come,
come, sir; no need to lose your temper,” he remonstrated, in a voice
now devoid of its former dictatorial tone. “Let us talk it over
quietly; perhaps we may....”
“No,” interrupted the Consul. “I have talked for over an hour, and
have said all I have to say. This is my last word on the subject—good
morning!”
As it was then luncheon-time, he returned to his residence, scarcely
hoping for a satisfactory settlement of the matter, but determined,
should it be denied, to carry out his threat.
This proved unnecessary, for, on going to his office an hour or so
later, he found the boy there to greet him, and sent him off to
Holland that evening.
This incident serves to show the mental attitude of the powers then
dominating Belgium, and also explains the consideration, comparatively
speaking, shown to Americans. Belgium was at their mercy, and, owing
to sufferings inflicted, more or less outwardly submissive, since
those who betrayed the least resistance were cast into prison with
no hope of being avenged, at any definite period, by their exiled
Government. It also demonstrates that worst of all the evil qualities
developed by militarism in the German who wore a uniform—the readiness
to crush the weak and to respect firm and fearless defiance in the
strong. This quality, manifested even in peace-time—among the police,
for instance, and other officials in Berlin—is peculiarly galling to
foreigners.
In October 1917 another copper raid took place, and our homes were
again subjected to armed invasion. We were now ordered to deliver
the beds we slept on, if brass, our chandeliers, bathroom fittings,
and all ornamentation in brass or copper with which our houses were
embellished—to dismount and convey them to the enemy without a
murmur. This, after all kitchen-utensils and many other necessaries
had already been claimed! And, strangest of all, while this robbery
of private houses was going on, many shops in the city remained well
stocked with all manner of things, in brass and copper, which, being
new and marketable, were left for a later seizure, to be shipped to
Germany for sale!
Machinery of all sorts was also taken; the before-mentioned steel
manufacturer of Bruges told me how he was robbed of a vast and very
valuable plant, of which some important portions had been purchased
in Germany just before the war. Military engineers came to look over
the place, noted down the more valuable fittings, and informed him
that men would come to dismount them the following day. They arrived
as predicted, and their chief was the very man originally sent to set
them up by the German firm who had sold our friend the machines! A
week or two later another representative of this same firm had the
audacity to present himself before the ruined manufacturer and try to
negotiate with him for the purchase of new machinery after the war!
It may be the recognized right of an occupying army to demand what it
urgently needs and cannot otherwise procure, but in Belgium there was
no question of right or need; everything was taken, not only copper
and machinery, but silverware, clothing, and articles of artistic
worth, which could be of no possible use to the army; and, from Bruges
and other places, many priceless paintings, and other treasures of
artistic and historical value.
An explanation of this latter feature of the general and systematic
looting was given rather dramatically by one of the German soldiers
engaged in rifling a house. It was witnessed by a friend of mine. The
house adjoined that of my friend, and he, expecting his turn would
come next, watched to learn what he must hide while all sorts of metal
objects were brought forth and hurled into a van waiting to receive
them.
Presently one of the soldiers, acting according to orders, came out
bearing a silver tray, on which was an exquisite tea-set of the same
metal. He carried it with care toward the van, paused, and examined
it pensively. Then, after brief deliberation, he set it down on the
pavement, took two of the shining objects, a teapot and cream-jug,
and savagely beat them together until no vestige of their fair form
remained. After throwing these into the van, he did the same by the
others, and finally trod on the tray, destroying it with his heavy,
iron-nailed boots. A second soldier, coming laden from the house,
paused to watch him in amazement.
“What are you doing that for?” he asked.
The other, taking up the mutilated tray, glanced at him with flaming
eyes.
“There’s no need for the officers to have these pretty things!” he
growled, and tossed it into the van.
Another man, Monsieur de R., told me the following interesting
experience:
His country house, stocked with things of beauty and value,
accumulated during many years of travel, was occupied and pillaged
when the German army, drunk with the temporary success of their
first onslaught, were pursuing bandit methods through the country.
Everything was taken: pictures and other almost priceless works of
art, silver, glass-ware, even linen and clothing. What could not be
removed was cut through with swords or otherwise destroyed, and the
château, after sheltering troops for some time, left in a deplorable
state of wreckage and filth. The park was damaged by horses, and many
of the fine old trees cut down for firewood. Monsieur de R. bore
the loss with that amazing stoic endurance manifested throughout by
the Belgians. His only remark at the time was: “It is sad; but—_que
voulez-vous_? We are at their mercy, and they have neither mercy nor
conscience!”
But that all Germans are not devoid of these qualities, he had, a few
weeks later rather astounding proof.
One day the card of a lady whom he did not know was presented to him
at his Brussels residence, accompanied by a request to speak with him
privately upon an urgent matter. As the name was German, he hesitated;
but curiosity impelled him to receive the mysterious visitor. She
proved to be a young and refined woman, very shy, and evidently
greatly agitated.
After returning his cold bow she came to the point at once: “I have
come to tell you, Monsieur, that many of the things taken from your
château were sent on to me in Germany.”
“_Vraiment?_” he replied, with a scarcely perceptible smile of ironic
wonderment.
“Yes; they were sent to me by my fiancé, the officer who—obtained
them from your house.” Her lips trembled as she sought for a less
objectionable word than “stole” to express the deed. “I am having them
all returned to you—every item. They have not even been unpacked.”
“Ah!” The Belgian stared, unable to imagine the object of this
astounding statement from one of a race he believed devoid of honour.
But, without a word of encouragement, the noble girl related her story
in a brave but unsteady voice, broken, toward the end, by tears that
did much to soften his bitter feelings. The objects referred to,
carefully packed in cases, had reached her after a letter from her
fiancé relating how he had procured them. How he put it, she did not
reveal; but her reply was a determined and high-spirited refusal to
accept them. She had come to Brussels in order personally to see the
victim of this robbery, and obtain his word of honour that he would
never divulge her fiancé’s name in connection with the affair.
My friend was so greatly impressed and touched by the admirable
courage and fineness of her confession, that he readily gave the
promise, and I believe no power could force him to break it!