the guard poured out and began taking our trophies out of the car. We
protested vigorously, but not one of them could talk anything but
Walloon--and French was of no use. Finally, a corporal was resurrected
from somewhere and came forth with a few words of French concealed about
his person. We used our best arguments with him, and he finally agreed
to let a soldier accompany us to the town hall and see what would be
done with us there. The little chunky Walloon who had held us up at the
barrier climbed in with great joy, and away we sped. The little chap was
about the size and shape of an egg with whopping boots, and armed to the
teeth. He had never been in a car before, and was as delighted as a
child. By carefully piecing words together through their resemblance to
German, we managed to have quite a conversation; and by the time we got
to the Grande Place we were comrades in arms. I fed him on cigars and
chocolate, and he was ready to plead our cause. As we came through the
streets of the town, people began to spot what was in the car and cheers
were raised all along the line. When we got to the Hôtel de Ville, the
troops had to come out to keep back the curious crowd, while we went in
to inquire of the officer in command as to whether we could keep our
souvenirs. He was a Major, a very courteous and patient man, who
explained that he had the strictest orders not to let anything of the
sort be carried away to Brussels. We bowed gracefully to the inevitable,
and placed our relics on a huge pile in front of the Hôtel de Ville.
Evidently many others had met the same fate, for the pile contained
enough trophies to equip a regiment. The Major and an old fighting
priest came out and commiserated with us on our hard luck, but their
commiseration was not strong enough to cause them to depart from their
instructions.
The Major told us that they had in the Hôtel de Ville the regimental
standard of the Death's Head Hussars. They are keeping it there, although
it would probably be a great deal safer in Brussels. Unfortunately the
room was locked, and the officer who had the key had gone, so we could
not look upon it with our own eyes.
Heading out of town, a young infantryman held us up and asked for a
lift. He turned out to be the son of the President of the Court of
Appeals at Charleroi. He was a delicate looking chap with lots of nerve,
but little strength. His heavy infantry boots looked doubly heavy on
him, and he was evidently in a bad way from fatigue. He had to rejoin
his regiment which was twelve miles along the road from Diest, so we
were able to give him quite a boost. He asked me to get word to his
father that he wanted to be given a place as chauffeur or aviator, and
in any other place that would not require so much foot work. There must
be a lot of this sort. We finally landed him in the bosom of his company
and waved him a good-bye.
By this time it was twilight, and the precautions of the guards were
redoubled. A short way out from Louvain, a little Walloon stepped out
from behind a tree about a hundred yards in front of us and barred the
way excitedly. We were going pretty fast and had to put on emergency
brakes, and skid up to him with a great smell of sizzling rubber. He
informed us that papers were no good any more; that we must know the
password, or go back to Louvain for the night. This he communicated to
us in his best Walloon, which we finally understood. Blount started to
tell him that we did not know, as the word had been changed since we
left; but in one of my rare bursts of resourcefulness I thought to try a
ruse, so leaned forward very confidently and gave him the password for
the morning--"_Belgique_." With a triumphant look, he shook his head and
countered: "No, _Haelen_!" He had shown the travellers from the outside
world that he knew more than they did, and he was without any misgivings
as to what he had done, and let us proceed without further loss of time.
We got all the way back to Tervueren with this password, which was all
that saved us from spending the night in Louvain and getting back nobody
knows when. Nearly opposite the Golf Club we were stopped with the
tidings that the word was no longer good, but that if we had
satisfactory papers we could get into town. For some reason the password
had evidently been changed since we left Louvain, so we got through with
rare luck all along the line.
We rolled up to the Legation a few minutes before eight o'clock, and
found that there was a great deal of anxiety about us. Cheerful people
had been spreading the news all day that if we fell into the hands of
the Germans they would hold us as hostages, as they did the Bishop and
Mayor of Liège. They probably would if they had caught us, but they did
not catch us.
Palmer was pleased at the amount we saw. It was by rare good luck that
we got through the lines and we were probably the last who will get so
far. To-day all _laisser-passers_ have been canceled, and nobody can set
foot out of town to the east. It gave us a pretty good idea before we
got through as to how the troops must be disposed. I came within an ace
of putting off our trip for a day or two. If I had, it would have cut me
out of seeing anything.
As usual, when I go out, the lid had blown off the Legation and the
place was in a turmoil. During the afternoon the Government had decided
to move to Antwerp and take refuge in the _enceinte_. The Queen, the
royal children and some of the members of the Government left at eight
o'clock, and this morning more of them left. Most of the Diplomatic
Corps have gone, and will have so much time to think of their troubles
that they will be more uncomfortable than we are. The Spanish Minister
will stay on and give us moral support.
* * * * *
_Brussels, August 19, 1914._--Yesterday morning began with a visit from
our old friend, Richard Harding Davis, who was still quite wroth because
I had not waited for him to arrange for his passes and go with me on my
trip. If we had, there would have been no trip, as he was not equipped
until afternoon. After lunch he started off boldly for Namur, but got
turned back before he reached Wavre, where there had been a skirmish
with Uhlans. He was sore and disgusted.
While he was in my office, another troop arrived composed of Irwin Cobb,
John McCutcheon, the cartoonist, Lewis and a few others. Later in the
day, Will Irwin came in with news that he was closely followed by
others. McCutcheon is a great friend of the Minister, and makes this his
headquarters.
The Minister took them out to get _laisser-passers_. While they were
away, Sir Francis Villiers came in and showed me a telegram from the
Foreign Office, stating that British newspapers and news associations
had been requested to recall their correspondents, as they had already
done great harm by the news they had given out. He was also to request
the Belgian Government to refuse permits of any sort to the press, and
get all foreign correspondents out of the country. The Belgian
Government realised the importance of this, and has consequently shut
down the lid tight.
There was supposed to have been a fair-sized cavalry engagement near
Charleroi, in which six regiments of German cavalry were chewed up. We
have no details, but it looked as though they were lured into a trap.
Practically no news of the operations is leaking out. It looks as though
Kitchener had remarked, "We will go into that house where William
Hohenzollern is breaking the furniture, and we will close the door and
pull down the blinds, and when we get through, we will come out and tell
people about it."
Yesterday was just a day of work with a great deal of beating people on
the back and assuring them that their lives are not in danger just
because the Court has gone to Antwerp. They all seem to be convinced
that their throats are going to be cut immediately.
This morning we had the usual deluge of newspaper men and correspondents.
The Minister went off with the Spanish Minister to call on the military
authorities, who are the only ones with whom we now have any relations,
and while he was gone, Sir Francis came in and announced that he had
been ordered to leave for Antwerp and place his Legation and British
interests under our charge. The news is that the German cavalry in
considerable force is marching toward Brussels. The military authorities
are getting ready to defend the city, which is quite a futile proceeding,
as the available forces are inadequate, so that the only result will be
that a lot of innocent people will be killed quite incidentally. The
Governor expects to resist about as far as the ring of inner boulevards,
which are about four blocks farther in than we are. Our street is
probably one of the principal ones by which the Germans would enter. A
hundred yards farther out there is a big railroad barricade, where a
stand would probably be made, so that our Legation would undoubtedly get
a fair share of the wild shots from both sides. The cellar is being made
ready for occupancy during the shindy, if it comes. The Burgomaster came
in to say that he had a house prepared for our occupancy in the safe
part of town; but we were not prepared to abandon the Legation and
declined with sincere thanks for his thoughtfulness.
I went over and saw Sir Francis and the Legation staff just as they were
leaving. They refused to have their plans upset by any little thing like
a German advance, so had their lunch peacefully at the usual hour and
then left in motors.
At seven o'clock Cobb, McCutcheon, and the rest of the crowd, were due
at my house, so I gathered up the Minister, the Consul-General, and
Blount, and repaired thither. Davis and Morgan turned up a little late,
but nothing has been heard of the rest of the crowd so far--10:30 P.M.
They were to have dined here, but have not appeared or sent word.
Crowds of people are pouring in from the east in all stages of panic,
and some small forces of cavalry have also retreated into the city,
looking weary and discouraged. There has evidently been a rout. Further
than that, we know nothing so far.
Several of the wives of high Belgian officials have come in this
evening, having received word from their husbands to put themselves
under our protection. There is nothing we can do for them, particularly
at this time.
* * * * *
_Brussels, August 20, 1914._--To-day has been one full of experience and
the end is not yet. Last night there was a great stir in the streets,
and crowds of people and weary-looking soldiers. At the Palace Hotel I
found the usual collection of diplomats and some other people whom I
knew, and from the crowd I elicited the fact that there had been some
sort of rout of Belgian forces near Louvain, and the soldiers were
falling back. That was about all they knew. I started back to the upper
town in the hope of finding some news at the Porte de Namur. On the way
up the hill I was stopped by half a dozen groups of Gardes Civiques and
soldiers, who asked me to take them to Ghent. They were so excited and
in such a hurry that they could hardly be made to realize that the car
was not liable to seizure. I took advantage of the opportunity to get a
little first-hand news, and learned that they had been driven back all
along the line and were ordered to retreat to Ghent by any means they
could find. There were no trains available; nobody seemed to know why.
The last group that I talked with said that the vanguard of the German
cavalry was only about fifteen miles out of town and would be in this
morning. They were all tremendously excited and did not dally by the
wayside to chat about the situation with me. I can't say that I blame
them, particularly in view of what I have seen since.
At the Porte de Namur I found that the Garde Civique in Brussels had
been ordered to disband and that the plan for the defense of the city
had been completely abandoned. It was the wise thing to do, for there
was no hope of defending the town with the small force of Gardes at the
disposal of the military governor. It would have been quite futile and
would have entailed a big loss of innocent civilian life. The governor
wanted to do it purely as a matter of honour, but he would have paid for
it heavily and could not have accomplished anything beyond delaying the
Germans for an hour or two. The Garde Civique was furious, however, at
the idea of not being able to make a stand. There was a demonstration,
but the cooler heads prevailed, and the men withdrew to their homes.
[Illustration: German supply train entering Brussels]
[Illustration: German infantry entering Brussels]
I was out by seven this morning and looked about for news before coming
to the Legation. I found that the Germans were steadily advancing and
that the vanguard was about seven kilometers out of the city. They
expected to begin the triumphal march about eleven. The Garde Civique
had disappeared from the streets and there were very few police to be
found. The shops were closed, shutters down on all houses, and posters
everywhere with the proclamation of the Burgomaster urging the people to
refrain from hostile acts. It was an abandoned and discouraged-looking
city. On the boulevards there were long lines of high carts bringing in
the peasants from the surrounding country. They are great high-wheeled
affairs, each drawn by a big Belgian draught horse. Each cart was piled
high with such belongings as could be brought away in the rush. On top
of the belongings were piled children and the old women, all of whom had
contrived to save their umbrellas and their gleaming, jet-black bonnets,
piled with finery. Those who could not find places in the carts walked
alongside, some of them carrying other belongings that could not be put
on the carts. It was the most depressing sight so far. Lots of them were
crying; all looked sad and crushed. Every one of them was probably
without enough money for a week's living. Even those who have money in
the banks cannot get it out at this time. They have no place to go to
here and have a bad prospect even if this part of the campaign is
finished quickly and they are soon able to return to their homes. Their
crops are rotting in the ground and many of their homes are already in
ruins. That is the hard side of the war--lots harder than the men who
go out and have at least a fighting chance for their lives.
When I got down to the Legation I found that the telegraph and telephone
communication had been cut off. The train service is abandoned and we
are completely isolated from the outside world. I did not think it would
come so soon and only hope that before we were cut off the news was
allowed to get out that there would be no fighting in the city.
I had a lot of errands to do during the morning and kept both motors
busy. I found time to get up signs on my door and that of M. de Leval,
warning all comers that both places were inviolate. That was in
anticipation of quartering of troops on private citizens, which has not
been done.
We got word that the Spanish Minister had some news, so I went over to
see him. He had heard from the Burgomaster as to the plans for the entry
of the troops, and wanted to pass it along to us. The commanding general,
von Jarotzky, was already at the edge of the city, on the Boulevard
Militaire, and was expecting to start into town at one o'clock. He was
to march down the Chaussée de Louvain, the boulevards, and out the other
side of the city, where his men were to be encamped for the present. Other
forces, comparatively small, were to occupy the railway stations and the
Grande Place. At the Hôtel de Ville he was to establish the headquarters
of the staff and administer the city government through the regularly
constituted authorities. It was all worked out to a nicety, even to the
exact measures for policing the line of march.
As the Garde Civique was withdrawn, the prisoners in the German Legation
knew that there was something in the air and ventured forth into the light
of day. They were not long in learning just what had taken place, and
called upon us to express their thanks for what we had done for them.
I suppose they will be trotting away for their own country before there
is a chance to lock them up again. It must be pretty dismal for them to
be locked up without any news of the outside world when they don't know
whether their armies are victorious or badly beaten.
As I was about to start to see the triumphal entry, the Spanish Minister
came along with his flag flying from his motor, and bade us to go with
him. We made off down the Boulevard and drew up at the Italian
Legation--two motors full of us; the whole staff of the Spanish Legation
and ourselves. The Italian Minister bade us in to watch the show, which
we had intended he should do. This did not work out well, so M. de Leval
and I started off down the street together. The first of the Germans
appeared as we stepped out the front door, and we saw that they were not
coming over the route that had been originally planned. Instead, they
were heading down the hill into the lower town. They proved to be the
troops that were to occupy the Grande Place and guard the headquarters
of the staff at the Hôtel de Ville. We cut across through side streets
and came upon them as they were passing Ste. Gudule. There was a sullen
and depressed crowd lining the streets, and not a sound was to be heard.
It would have been better had the crowd been kept off the streets, but
they behaved wonderfully well.
A large part of the reason for bringing the German troops through here
was evidently to impress the populace with their force and discipline.
It was a wonderful sight, and one which I never expect to see equaled as
long as I live. They poured down the hill in a steady stream without a
pause or a break; not an order was shouted nor a word exchanged among
the officers or men. All the orders and signals were given by whistles
and signs. The silence was a large element of the impressiveness.
These troops had evidently been kept fresh for this march, and I should
not be at all surprised if it should prove that they had not seen any
fighting. If they have suffered any losses, they have closed up their
ranks with wonderful precision and show none of the signs of
demoralisation. They had clearly been at great pains to brush up and
give the appearance of freshness and strength. Nearly all the men were
freshly shaven, and their uniforms had been brushed and made as natty
and presentable as possible. They swaggered along with a palpable effort
to show that they were entirely at home, and that they owned the place.
The officers looked over the heads of the crowd in their best
supercilious manner, and the men did their best to imitate their
superiors.
First came some lancers--a couple of battalions, I should think; then
there was a lot of artillery, rapid-fire guns and field pieces. Then
more cavalry and a full regiment of infantry. When the last contingent
of cavalry came along, they burst into song and kept it up steadily.
There was a decidedly triumphant note, and the men looked meaningly at
the crowd, as much as to say: "Now do you realise what your little army
went up against when it tried to block us?" It seemed to me pretty rough
to rub it in on them by singing songs of triumph as they rode into an
undefended city. If they had been attacked and had succeeded in driving
the invader back into his own capital, it would be understandable; but
it seemed to me rather unnecessary to humiliate these people after
trampling on their poor country and slaughtering half their army. It was
more than de Leval could stand, so I walked home with him to the
Legation.
When we got back to the Legation I decided that I ought to see all I
could, so Blount and I went back in his car. First we worked our way
through to the lower town and got a look at the Grande Place. There were
a little more than two full battalions resting there, with their field
pieces parked at the lower end of the square. Small squads were being
walked around doing the goose step for the delectation of the _bons
Bruxellois_, who were kept a block away up the side streets leading to
the square. The men had their arms stacked in the centre of the square,
and were resting hard--all but those who were supplying the spectacle.
From there we went down to Luna Park, an amusement place on the edge of
the city. The stream was pouring by there just as steadily as it had
earlier in the afternoon. We watched the passing of great quantities of
artillery, cavalry and infantry, hussars, lancers, cyclists, ambulance
attendants, forage men, and goodness only knows what else.
I have never seen so much system and such equipment. The machine is
certainly wonderful; and, no matter what is the final issue of the war,
nobody can deny that so far as that part of the preparation went, the
Germans were hard to beat. The most insignificant details were worked
out, and all eventualities met with promptness. The horses were shod for
a campaign in the country, and naturally there was a lot of slipping on
the smooth cobble pavements. The instant a horse went down there was a
man ready with a coarse cloth to put under his head, and another to go
under his forefeet, so that he would have some grip when he tried to get
up and would not hurt himself slipping and pawing at the cobbles. The
moment he fell, all hands rushed to the rescue so effectively that he
was on his feet again in no time, and the procession was barely
arrested. The men's kits were wonderfully complete and contained all
sorts of things that I had never seen or heard of, so I turned for
explanation to Davis, who had come along and was lost in admiration of
the equipment and discipline. He said he had been through pretty much
every campaign for the last twenty years, and thought he knew the last
word in all sorts of equipment, but that this had him staggered. I began
asking him what a lot of things were for, and he frankly admitted that
he was as much in the dark as I was.
A great many of the officers wore, upon their chests, great electric
searchlights attached to batteries in their saddle-bags. These are
useful when on the march at night, and serve to read sign-posts and
study maps, etc.
The supply trains were right with the main body of the troops, and were
also carefully equipped for purposes of display. The kitchens were on
wheels, and each was drawn by four horses. The stoves were lighted and
smoke was pouring from the chimneys. The horses were in fine shape and
in huge numbers.
The troops marched down the right side of the boulevard, leaving the
left side free. Up and down this side dashed officers on horseback,
messengers on motor-cycles and staff officers in military cars. There
were no halts and practically no slacking of the pace, as the great army
rolled in.
Here and there came large motor trucks fitted out as cobblers' shops,
each with a dozen cobblers pounding industriously away at boots that
were passed up to them by the marching soldiers. While waiting for
repairs to be made, these soldiers rode on the running board of the
motor, which was broad enough to carry them and their kits.
After watching them for a while, we moved back to the Boulevard, where
we found the Minister with the ladies of the family who had been brought
out to watch the passing show. We had hesitated to bring them out at the
beginning for fear that there might be riots, or even worse,
precipitated by the foolhardy action of some individual. Fortunately,
there was nothing of the sort, and while the reception given the troops
was deadly sullen, they were offered no affronts that we could see. The
entry was effected quietly, and perfect order has prevailed ever since.