and locked him up. Then the war was called off while the jury sat on
his case. One of the officers thought it would be a superfluous effort
to go through the form of trying him, but that they should shoot him
without further to do. They began considering his case at eleven in the
morning, and kept it up until midnight. He was given pretty clearly to
understand that his chances were slim, and that the usual fate of spies
awaited him. He argued at length, and apparently his arguments had some
effect, for at three o'clock in the morning he was routed out and told
to hit the road toward Brussels. He was ordered to keep religiously to
the main road all the way back, on pain of being shot on sight, and to
report at headquarters here immediately on his arrival. By this time he
was perfectly willing to do exactly what was demanded by those in
authority, and made a bee-line back here on foot. He turned up at the
Legation yesterday morning, footsore and weary, and looking like a
tramp, and told his story to an admiring audience. I was still away on
my little jaunt, and did not get it at first hand. The Minister took him
down to call on the General, and got them to understand that Richard
Harding Davis was not an English spy, but, on the contrary, probably the
greatest writer that ever lived, not excepting Shakespeare or Milton.
The General said he had read some of his short stories, and that he
would not have him shot. Just the same, he was not keen about having him
follow the operations. He is now ordered to remain in this immediate
neighbourhood until further orders. To-day he had several interviews
with the General in an attempt to get permission to leave the country,
but had no luck. The last we saw of Davis, he came in late this
afternoon to tell us that he did not know what to do next. He said that
he had been through six wars, but that he had never been so scared as he
was at that time. If he is allowed to get out of Belgium, I think that
he will not darken the door of General von Lüttwitz for some time to
come.

I was surprised to learn that Hans von Herwarth, who used to be military
attaché in Washington, and whom I knew very well, is here as Adjutant to
our new Governor. I have not yet had time to get over to see him, but
shall try to do so to-morrow. I am glad to have somebody like that here
to do business with. He is a real white man, and I anticipate a much
better time with him than with any other officer they could send here in
that capacity.

Baron Capelle came in late this afternoon to tell me that the Germans
were bringing in a lot of priests on carts filled with cows and pigs,
and were planning to hold them as hostages. One of them had called out
and asked him to notify us that Monseigneur de Becker, Rector of the
American College at Louvain, was among these prisoners. He is the priest
I went to see when I was in Louvain ten days ago. I had told him he was
perfectly safe, and scoffed at his fears.

The Minister was out when this news came, but I sallied forth and tried
to locate the Monseigneur. He was not to be found anywhere. When I got
back to the Legation, both the Minister and Villalobar were here and I
told them all about what had happened. The people of the town were
getting excited over the treatment that was being meted out to their
priests, and it was in a fair way to result in serious trouble. Both
Ministers made for the Ministry for Foreign Affairs, where the German
Government is established, and before they left, had secured orders for
the release of all the hostages. A lot of these terrible things are done
by subordinate officers, and the people at the top seem only too anxious
to learn of such affairs and do what they can to remedy them. The day
has been dreadful with stories of suffering and murder and pillage.

Not only are we cut off from communication with the outside world, but a
lot of the ordinary conveniences of life have already disappeared. We
have no newspapers, no trams, no taxis, no telephones. Milk is no longer
to be had, and within a day or two we shall have no butter or eggs. Then
it will begin to look like a real siege. In a day or so I am to have a
list of Jarotzky's demands for supplies, so that I can cheer myself with
thoughts of what our life is to be like.

There is bad news from Louvain. The reports we have received agree that
there was some sort of trouble in the square before the Hôtel de Ville a
day or two ago. Beyond that, no two reports are alike. The Germans say
that the son of the Burgomaster shot down some staff officers who were
talking together at dusk before the Hôtel de Ville. The only flaw in
that story is that the Burgomaster has no son. Some Belgians say that
two bodies of Germans who were drunk met in the dusk; that one body
mistook the other for French, and opened fire. Other reliable people
tell with convincing detail that the trouble was planned and started by
the Germans in cold blood. However that may be, the affair ended in the
town being set on fire, and civilians shot down in the streets as they
tried to escape. According to the Germans themselves, the town is being
wiped out of existence. The Cathedral, the Library, the University, and
other public buildings have either been destroyed or have suffered
severely. People have been shot by hundreds, and those not killed are
being driven from the town. They are coming to Brussels by thousands,
and the end is not yet. This evening the wife of the Minister of Fine
Arts came in with the news that her mother, a woman of eighty-four, had
been driven from her home at the point of the bayonet and forced to walk
with a stream of refugees all the way to Tervueren, a distance of about
twelve miles, before she could be put on a tram to her daughter's house.
Two old priests have staggered into the ---- Legation more dead than
alive after having been compelled to walk ahead of the German troops for
miles as a sort of protecting screen. One of them is ill, and it is said
that he may die as a result of what he has gone through.

           *           *           *           *           *

_August 28th._--After lunch Blount and I decided to go out to Louvain to
learn for ourselves just how much truth there is in the stories we have
heard, and see whether the American College is safe. We were going
alone, but Pousette and Bulle, the Swedish and Mexican Chargés
d'Affaires, were anxious to join us, so the four of us got away together
and made good time as far as the first outpost this side of Louvain.

Here there was a small camp by a hospital, and the soldiers came out to
examine our papers and warn us to go no farther, as there was fighting
in the town. The road was black with frightened civilians carrying away
small bundles from the ruins of their homes. Ahead was a great column of
dull gray smoke which completely hid the city. We could hear the muffled
sound of firing ahead. Down the little street which led to the town, we
could see dozens of white flags which had been hung out of the windows
in a childish hope of averting trouble.

We talked with the soldiers for some time in an effort to get some idea
of what had really happened in the town. They seemed convinced that
civilians had precipitated the whole business by firing upon the staff
of a general who was parleying with the Burgomaster in the square before
the Hôtel de Ville. They saw nothing themselves, and believe what they
are told. Different members of the detachment had different stories to
tell, including one that civilians had a machine gun installed on top of
the Cathedral, and fired into the German troops, inflicting much damage.
One of the men told us that his company had lost twenty-five men in the
initial flurry. They were a depressed and nervous-looking crew, bitter
against the civil population and cursing their ways with great
earnestness. They were at some pains to impress upon us that all
Belgians were _Schwein_, and that the people of Louvain were the lowest
known form of the animal.

After talking the situation over with the officer in command, we decided
to try getting around the town to the station by way of the ring of
outer boulevards. We got through in good shape, being stopped a few
times by soldiers and by little groups of frightened civilians who were
cowering in the shelter of doorways, listening to the noise of fighting
in the town, the steady crackle of machine guns, and the occasional
explosions.

[Illustration: Entrance to the Rue de Diest, Louvain]

[Illustration: The dead and the living. A Belgian civilian and a German
soldier]

They were pathetic in their confidence that the United States was coming
to save them. In some way word has traveled all over Belgium that we
have entered the war on the side of Belgium, and they all seem to
believe it. Nearly every group we talked to asked hopefully when our
troops were coming, and when we answered that we were not involved, they
asked wistfully if we didn't think we should be forced to come in later.
A little boy of about eight, in a group that stopped us, asked me
whether we were English, and when I told him what we were, he began
jumping up and down, clapping his hands, and shouting:

_Les Américains sont arrivés! Les Américains sont arrivés!_

His father told him to be quiet, but he was perfectly happy and clung to
the side of the car as long as we stayed, his eyes shining with joy,
convinced that things were going to be all right somehow.

About half way around the ring of boulevards we came to burning houses.
The outer side of the boulevard was a hundred feet or so from the
houses, so the motor was safe, but it was pretty hot and the cinders
were so thick that we had to put on our goggles. A lot of the houses
were still burning, but most of them were nothing but blackened walls
with smouldering timbers inside. Many of the front doors had been
battered open in order to start the fires or to rout out the people who
were in hiding.

We came to a German ammunition wagon, half upset against a tree, where
it had been hurled when the horses had turned to run away. The tongue
was broken and wrenched out. Near by were the two horses, dead and
swollen until their legs stood out straight. Then we began to see more
ghastly sights--poor civilians lying where they had been shot down as
they ran--men and women--one old patriarch lying on his back in the sun,
his great white beard nearly hiding his swollen face. All sorts of
wreckage scattered over the street, hats and wooden shoes, German
helmets, swords and saddles, bottles and all sorts of bundles which had
been dropped and abandoned when the trouble began. For three-quarters of
a mile the boulevard looked as though it had been swept by a cyclone.
The Porte de Tirlemont had evidently been the scene of particularly
bloody business. The telegraph and trolley wires were down; dead men and
horses all over the square; the houses still burning. The broad road we
had traveled when we went to Tirlemont was covered with wreckage and
dead bodies.

Some bedraggled German soldiers came out from under the gate and
examined our passes. They were nervous and unhappy and shook their heads
gloomily over the horrors through which they were passing. They said
they had had hardly a minute's sleep for the past three nights. Their
eyes were bloodshot and they were almost too tired to talk. Some of them
were drunk--in the sodden stage, when the effect begins to wear off.
They told us we could proceed in safety as far as the station, where we
would find the headquarters of the commanding officer. Here we could
leave the motor and learn how far we could safely go. This crowd varied
the wording a little by saying that the Belgians were all dogs and that
these particular dogs were being driven out, as they should be, that all
that part of town was being cleared of people, ordered to leave their
homes and go to Brussels or some other town, so that the destruction of
Louvain could proceed systematically. We thought at the time that they
were exaggerating what was being done, but were enlightened before we
had gone much farther.

We continued down the boulevard for a quarter of a mile or so till we
came to the station. Sentries came out and looked through our passes
again. We parked the motor with a number of German military cars in the
square and set off on foot down the Rue de la Station, which we had
admired so much when we had driven down its length, just ten days
before.

The houses on both sides were either partially destroyed or smouldering.
Soldiers were systematically removing what was to be found in the way of
valuables, food, and wine, and then setting fire to the furniture and
hangings. It was all most businesslike. The houses are substantial stone
buildings, and fire will not spread from one to another. Therefore the
procedure was to batter down the door of each house, clean out what was
to be saved, then pile furniture and hangings in the middle of the room,
set them afire, and move on to the next house.

It was pretty hot, but we made our way down the street, showing our
passes every hundred feet or so to soldiers installed in comfortable
armchairs, which they had dragged into the gutter from looted houses,
till we came to a little crossing about half way to the Hôtel de Ville.
Here we were stopped by a small detachment of soldiers, who told us that
we could go no farther; that they were clearing civilians out of some
houses a little farther down the street, and that there was likely to be
firing at any time.

The officer in command spoke to us civilly and told us to stick close to
him so that we could know just what we ought to do at any time. He was
in charge of the destruction of this part of the town and had things
moving along smartly. His men were firing some houses near by and he
stood outside smoking a rank cigar and looking on gloomily.

We exchanged remarks with him in German for a few minutes, I limping
along behind the more fluent Pousette and Bulle. Then I said something
in an aside to Blount, and the officer broke into the conversation in
perfectly good English. He turned out to be a volunteer officer from
Hamburg, who had spent some thirty years in England and was completely
at home in the language.

We then accomplished the formal introductions which are so necessary to
Germans even at a time like this, and when we came to Bulle the officer
burst into a rapid fire of questions, which ended in his proclaiming in
rapture:

"Why, I knew your father in Hamburg and went to school with your Uncle
So-and-so!"

Reminiscence went on as though we were about a dining table at home;
minute inquiry was made into the welfare and activities of the Bulle
family from the cradle to the grave. On the strength of the
respectability of Bulle's relatives we were then taken under the
officer's wing and piloted by him through the rest of our visit.

From where we stood we could see down the street through the smoke, as
far as the Hôtel de Ville. It was still standing, but the Cathedral
across the street was badly damaged and smoke was rising in clouds from
its roof. The business houses beyond were not to be seen; the smoke was
too dense to tell how many of them were gone.

Machine guns were at work near by, and occasionally there was a loud
explosion when the destructive work was helped with dynamite.

A number of the men about us were drunk and evidently had been in that
state for some time. Our officer complained that they had had very
little to eat for several days, but added glumly that there was plenty
to drink.

A cart, heaped high with loot, driven by a fat Landsturmer and pulled by
a tiny donkey, came creaking past us. One of our party pulled his kodak
from his pocket and inquired of our guardian in English: "May I take a
picture?"

His intent evidently escaped the German, who answered cordially:

"Certainly; go ahead. You will find some beautiful things over there on
the corner in the house they are getting ready to burn."

We kept our faces under control, and he was too much occupied with his
other troubles to notice that we did not avail of his kind permission
to join in the pillage.

He was rabid against the Belgians and had an endless series of stories
of atrocities they had committed--though he admitted that he had none of
them at first hand. He took it as gospel, however, that they had fired
upon the German troops in Louvain and laid themselves open to reprisals.
To his thinking there is nothing bad enough for them, and his chief
satisfaction seemed to consist in repeating to us over and over that he
was going the limit. Orders had been issued to raze the town--"till not
one stone was left on another," as he said.

Just to see what would happen I inquired about the provision of The
Hague Conventions, prescribing that no collective penalty can be imposed
for lawless acts of individuals. He dismissed that to his own
satisfaction by remarking that:

"All Belgians are dogs, and all would do these things unless they are
taught what will happen to them."

Convincing logic!

With a hard glint in his eye he told us the purpose of his work; he came
back to it over and over, but the burden of what he had to say was
something like this:

"We shall make this place a desert. We shall wipe it out so that it will
be hard to find where Louvain used to stand. For generations people will
come here to see what we have done, and it will teach them to respect
Germany and to think twice before they resist her. Not one stone on
another, I tell you--_kein Stein auf einander!_"

I agreed with him when he remarked that people would come here for
generations to see what Germany had done--but he did not seem to follow
my line of thought.

While we were talking about these things and the business of burning and
looting was pursuing its orderly course, a rifle shot rang out near by.
Instantly every soldier seized his rifle and stood waiting for an
indication as to what would happen next. In a few seconds a group of
soldiers rushed into a house about a hundred feet away. There was a
sound of blows, as though a door was being beaten in; then a few shots,
and the soldiers came out wiping the perspiration from their faces.

"Snipers!" said our guide, shaking his fist at the house. "We have gone
through that sort of thing for three days and it is enough to drive us
mad; fighting is easy in comparison, for then you know what you are
doing." And then almost tearfully: "Here we are _so_ helpless!"

While he was talking another shot rang out, and then there was a regular
fusillade, which lasted for fifteen seconds or so; then an explosion.

Bulle stood not upon the order of his going, but ran for the station,
calling back:

"I've had enough of this. Let's get out and go home."

Our friend, the officer, said Bulle was right, and that it would be the
part of wisdom for us all to fall back to the station, where we would be
near the car in case anything happened. He started off at a good pace,
and as we were in no mood to argue we went meekly along in his wake. We
overtook Bulle engaged in an altercation with a very drunken soldier,
who wanted to see his papers and was insulting about it. Instead of
taking the easy course and showing his papers Bulle was opening a debate
on the subject, when we arrived and took a hand. Our officer waded into
the soldier in a way that would have caused a mutiny in any other army,
and the soldier, very drunk and sullen, retreated, muttering, to his
armchair on the curb. We then moved on to the station.

Outside the station was a crowd of several hundred people, mostly women
and children, being herded on to trains by soldiers, to be run out of
the town. They seemed to be decently treated but were naturally in a
pitiable state of terror. Just inside the gates of the freight yard were
a couple of women telling their troubles to a group of officers and
soldiers. They had both lost their husbands in the street-fighting, and
were in a terrible state. The officers and men were gathered about them,
evidently distressed by their trouble, and trying to comfort them. They
had put the older woman in an armchair and were giving her a little
brandy in a tea cup. And the same men may have been the ones who killed
the husbands....

We went on into the freight yards and were greeted by a number of
officers with hopeful talk about a train coming from Brussels with food.
We were given chairs and an orderly was despatched for a bottle of wine
so that a drink could be given to Bulle, who said that after what he had
been through he would appreciate a glass of something comforting.

We settled down and listened to the stories of the past few days. It was
a story of clearing out civilians from a large part of the town; a
systematic routing out of men from cellars and garrets, wholesale
shootings, the generous use of machine guns, and the free application of
the torch--the whole story enough to make one see red. And for our
guidance it was impressed on us that this would make people _respect_
Germany and think twice about resisting her.

Suddenly several shots rang out apparently from some ruins across the
street and the whole place was instantly in an uproar. The lines of
civilians were driven helter-skelter to cover--where, I don't know. The
stands of arms in the freight yard were snatched up, and in less time
than it takes to tell it, several hundred men were scattered behind any
sort of shelter that offered, ready for the fray.

I took one quick look about and decided that the substantial freight
station was the most attractive thing in sight. In no time I was inside,
closely followed by my own crowd and a handful of soldiers. First, we
lay down upon the platform, and then, when we got our bearings, rolled
over on to the track among a lot of artillery horses that were tethered
there.

Apparently a number of civilians, goaded to desperation by what they had
seen, had banded together, knowing that they were as good as dead, and
had determined to sell their lives as dearly as they could. They had
gathered in the ruins of the houses fronting on the station and had
opened up on us. There was a brisk interchange of shots, with an
occasional tinkle of broken glass and a good deal of indiscriminate
cursing by the soldiers, who had taken refuge with us.

The artillery horses did not welcome us very cordially and began to get
restive in a way that made us debate whether we preferred staying up on
the platform with a chance of being potted or staying under cover and
being ingloriously trampled to death. A joint debate on this important
question kept us occupied for several minutes. We finally compromised by
fishing down a few boxes from the platform and erecting a barricade of
sorts to protect us against any stray kicks.

As we sat in the undignified position imposed on us by circumstances, we
exchanged various frivolous remarks, not because we felt particularly
gay, but because we had to do something to keep ourselves interested and
to keep our courage up. Bulle resented this, and raised his head to look
at me reproachfully over the barricade, and say: "Don't talk like that;
it is nothing short of tempting Providence."

After a time Blount and I decided to make a reconnaissance in force and
see how the car was getting on. We crawled along the floor to a place
from which we could see out into the square. The soldiers were flat on
their stomachs behind a low wall that extended around the small circular
park in the centre of the square, and behind any odd shelter they could
find. The car lay in the line of fire but had not been struck. We were
sufficiently pessimistic to be convinced that it would go up in smoke
before the row was over, and took a good look at our shoes to see
whether they would last through a walk back to Brussels.

Our officer came out from behind his barricade and showed us where the
attacking force was concealed--at least he told us that they were there
and we were willing to take his word for it without going across the
street to make a first-hand investigation.

He tried to impress us with the black sinfulness of people who would
fire upon the German troops, and called our particular attention to the
proof now offered us that civilians had started the row by firing on
German troops. According to the German story, which was the only one we
had heard, civilians had been hunted down like rats in garrets and
cellars and shot down in cold blood in the streets when they sought
safety in flight. To my mind it was not surprising that men driven to
desperation by seeing their friends and neighbours murdered in cold
blood, should decide to do any harm possible to the enemy. Three days of
the reign of terror that had been described to us was enough to account
for anything, and the fact that civilians were firing now did not in any
sense prove that they were guilty of starting the trouble. For all we
could tell they may have started it or they may not, but firing by them
three days after the row began was no proof to any one with the
slightest sense of the value of evidence. On the other hand, the story
freely told us by the Germans as to their own behaviour, is enough to
create the darkest presumptions as to how the trouble started, and would
seem to place the burden of proof on them rather than on the Belgians.

While we were talking about this there came another rattle of fire, and
we scuttled back to our shelter, among the horses. Every now and then a
surly soldier with two huge revolvers came and looked over the ledge at
us, and growled out: _Was machen Sie denn hier?_ followed by some
doubting remarks as to our right to be on the premises. As he was
evidently very drunk and bad-tempered I was not at all sure that he
would not decide on his own responsibility to take no chances and put
us out of our misery. After several visits, however, he evidently found
something else more interesting, and came back to trouble us no more.

When the row began a motor had been despatched toward Brussels to recall
some troops that had left a few hours before. Now and then our officer
came in to tell us what he thought of their chances of getting back.

On one of these visits, Blount remarked by way of airy persiflage, that
that drink of wine that had been sent for was a long time coming.
Anything as subtle as that was lost on our friend, for he walked
solemnly away, only to reappear in a few minutes with a bottle and
several glasses which he set up on the edge of the platform and filled
with excellent Burgundy. We stood up among the horses and drained a
bumper of the stuff, while the officer wandered back to his work. He had
gone calmly out into the thick of things to rescue this bottle, and took
it as a matter of course that we should claim the drink that had been
promised us.

Presently, with a good deal of noise, a fairly large force of troops
came marching down the boulevard, and took up positions around the
station. Our officer returned, waving a smoking revolver, and told us to
lie down as flat as we could among the horses, and not to move unless
they got restive. He said it looked as though an attempt would be made
to take the station by storm, and that there might be a brisk fight.

However, there were only a few scattering shots, and then our friend
came back and told us that we had better get out and start for home
before things began again. He added, however, that we must have the
permission of the commanding officer who was on the other side of the
station, but offered to pilot us to the great man and help us get the
permission. The way lay straight out into the square, in full view of
the houses across the way, along the front of the station just behind
the troops and into the railroad yard on the other side.

That station seemed about four miles long, and the officer was possessed
of a desire to loiter by the way, recounting anecdotes of his school
days. He would walk along for a few steps and then pause to tell Bulle
some long and rambling yarn about his uncle. Bulle would take him by the
arm and get him in motion again. Then the old chap would transfer his
conversational fire to another member of the party, and we were obliged
almost to pull him the length of the square.

The commanding officer was a pleasant-faced little man who stood in the
shelter of a water tank and received us in a puzzled way, as though he
wondered what civilians were doing in that neighbourhood anyway.
Permission was readily granted for us to leave, with the ludicrous
proviso that we did so "at our own risk." Then Bulle put everybody in
good humour by inquiring innocently if there was any danger. Everybody
burst into peals of laughter, and we were escorted to our car by the
same slow-moving officer, who insisted on exchanging cards with us and
expressing the hope that we should meet again, which we could not
honestly reciprocate. Then, after an hour and a half in the station, we
got away amid a great waving of hands.

The boulevards were deserted save for the troops coming back into the
town. New houses were burning that had been intact in the afternoon.
After passing the Porte de Tirlemont, we began to see people
again--little groups that had come out into the streets through a
craving for company, and stood huddled together listening to the
fighting in the lower part of the town.

In harmony with the policy of terrorising the population, the Germans
have trained them to throw up their hands as soon as any one comes in
sight, in order to prove that they are unarmed and defenseless. And the
way they do it, the abject fear that is evident, shows that failure to
comply with the rule is not lightly punished.

Our worst experience of this was when in coming around a corner we came
upon a little girl of about seven, carrying a canary in a cage. As soon
as she saw us, she threw up her hands and cried out something we did not
understand. Thinking that she wanted to stop us with a warning of some
sort, we put on the brakes and drew up beside her. Then she burst out
crying with fear, and we saw that she was in terror of her life. We
called out to reassure her, but she turned and ran like a hunted animal.

It was hard to see the fear of others--townspeople, peasants, priests,
and feeble old nuns who dropped their bundles and threw up their hands,
their eyes starting with fear. The whole thing was a nightmare.

We were dreadfully depressed, and rode along in silence until Bulle
turned around from the front seat and inquired in a matter-of-fact
voice:

"What sort of wine was that we drank at the station?"

We told him, and then he shook his head and said as though to himself:

"I drank a big glass of it, but I was so frightened that I didn't taste
it at all."

That broke the edge of the strain we were under, and we had a good laugh
in which Bulle joined.

And so back to the Legation without further mishap, to find everybody
worrying about us, and the Minister putting his foot down and announcing
that there were to be no more expeditions of the sort, no matter what
the reason for them.

           *           *           *           *           *

NOTE--The foregoing is an impression of one afternoon at Louvain, taken
from a journal written at the time. It was intended to pass on the
question of responsibility for precipitating the orgy of murder and
bestiality indulged in by the German army from the 25th of August until
the 30th, when orders were received from Berlin to stop the destruction
and restore public order.

Many subsequent visits to Louvain, and conversations with people who
were there when the trouble began, have only served to strengthen the
impression that the whole affair was part of a cold-blooded and
calculated plan to terrorise the civilian population.

While we were there, it was frankly stated that the town was being wiped
out; that its destruction was being carried out under definite orders.
When the German Government realised the horror and loathing with which
the civilised world learned of the fate of Louvain, the orders were
cancelled and the story sent out that the German forces had tried to
prevent the destruction, had fought the fire, and by good fortune had
been able to save the Hôtel de Ville. Never has a government lied more
brazenly. When we arrived, the destruction of the town was being carried
on in an orderly and systematic way that showed careful preparation. The
only thing that saved the Hôtel de Ville was the fact that the German
troops had not progressed that far with their work when the orders were
countermanded from Berlin.

It was only when he learned how civilisation regarded his crimes, that
the Emperor's heart began to bleed.

The true facts as to the destruction of Louvain will startle the
world--hardened though it has become to surprise at German crimes.
Unfortunately, however, it is impossible to publish the details at this
time without endangering the lives of people still in Belgium under
German domination. But these people will speak for themselves when the
Germans have been driven from Belgian soil, and they are once more free
to speak the truth.

           *           *           *           *           *

During the afternoon Count Clary had come over and announced that
Austria-Hungary had declared war on Belgium, and that he had to leave at
once. He has turned his Legation over to us. I went around to see him
late in the evening, and made the final arrangements. This afternoon the
Danish Minister came in and turned his Legation over to us, as he
expects to go in a day or two. That will make four Legations besides our
own under our protection.

Austrian guns have been in action for some days, and now it has been
thought worth while to regularise the situation. The Austrian Minister
has, therefore, under instructions from his Government addressed the
following note to the Belgian Government:

                                                   _August 28, 1914._

     "Whereas Belgium, having refused to accept the proposals made to
     her on several occasions by Germany, is affording her military
     assistance to France and Great Britain, both of which Powers have
     declared war upon Austria-Hungary, and whereas, as has just been
     proved (_no indication as to how or when it has been proved_),
     Austrian and Hungarian subjects in Belgium have been obliged to
     submit, under the very eyes of the Belgian authorities, to
     treatment contrary to the most primitive demands of humanity and
     inadmissible even toward subjects of an enemy State, therefore
     Austria is obliged to break off diplomatic relations and considers
     herself from this moment in a state of war with Belgium. I am
     leaving the country with the staff of the Legation, and am
     entrusting the protection of Austrian interests to the United
     States Minister in Belgium. The Austro-Hungarian Government is
     forwarding his passports to Count Errembault de Dudzeele.

                                                    CLARY."

This is the first we have heard of any mistreatment of Austrians in this
country, but then they probably had to advance some sort of reason for
going to war.[4]

[Footnote 4: The Belgian Government sent the following reply to the
Austrian declaration of war.

                                           _Antwerp, August 29, 1914._

     Belgium has always entertained friendly relations with all her
     neighbours without distinction. She has scrupulously fulfilled the
     duties imposed upon her by her neutrality. If she has not been able
     to accept Germany's proposals, it is because those proposals
     contemplated the violation of her engagements toward Europe,
     engagements which form the conditions of the creation of the
     Belgian Kingdom. She has been unable to admit that a people,
     however weak they may be, should fail in their duty and sacrifice
     their honour by yielding to force. The Government have waited, not
     only until the ultimatum had expired, but also until Belgian
     territory had been violated by German troops, before appealing to
     France and Great Britain, guarantors of her neutrality, under the
     same terms as are Germany and Austria-Hungary, to coöperate in the
     name and in virtue of the treaties in defense of Belgian territory.

     By repelling the invaders by force of arms, she has not even
     committed a hostile act as laid down by the provisions of Article
     10 of The Hague Convention, respecting the Rights and Duties of
     Neutral Powers.

     Germany has herself recognised that her attack constitutes a
     violation of international law, and being unable to justify it,
     she has pleaded her strategical interests.

     Belgium formally denies the allegation that Austrian and Hungarian
     subjects have suffered treatment in Belgium contrary to the most
     primitive demands of humanity.

     The Belgian Government, from the very beginning of hostilities,
     have issued the strictest orders for the protection of
     Austro-Hungarian persons and property.

                                            DAVIGNON.]

The ---- Chargé came around this afternoon to ask about getting to
Antwerp, where he wants to flee for protection. He was very indignant
because the Military Governor had refused to allow him to go. When I
asked him on what ground the permission had been refused, he said that
it had not exactly been refused, but that he could go only on his own
responsibility. He wanted us to protest against this. I meanly suggested
to him that he would be in much more serious danger if he had an escort
of German troops to take him to the Belgian lines, and he left in a
terrible state of mind.

Mr. Whitlock and the Spanish Minister went to call on the Military
Governor this afternoon to get off some telegrams which he had promised
to send, and to talk over the general situation. After that they went to
call on the Burgomaster, and came back with a pretty good idea of what
was happening in our fair city.

The Governor loaded them up with a large budget of official news,
showing that Germany was victorious all along every line; that she was
not only chasing the French and English armies around in circles, but
that Uhlans were within forty kilometers of Paris, and that five Russian
army corps had been beaten in Eastern Prussia. It really looks as though
things were going pretty badly for the Allies, but we have absolutely
nothing but German news and cannot form an accurate opinion.

The Germans are particularly bitter against the Belgian clergy and
insist that the priests have incited the people to attack the German
troops and mistreat the wounded. So far as I can learn, this is utter
rubbish. The authorities of the church have publicly exhorted the people
to remain calm and to refrain from hostile acts, pointing out that any
provocation would bring sure punishment from the German military
authorities. The priests I have seen have been at great pains to set an
example that the Germans should be the first to commend.

The clergy has a tremendous influence in Belgium, and is sincerely
respected. They will be a vital force in holding the people together in
their patriotic devotion, and in maintaining public tranquillity.

A new Governor-General is to be sent us here. The Minister could not
remember his name. I am curious. Von Lüttwitz will remain for the
present at least.

The Burgomaster reports that the inhabitants of Brussels are calm and
that there need be no fear of trouble unless they are allowed to go
hungry. A committee has been formed to revictual the town, and is
working night and day. Monsieur Solvay has given a million francs, and
other Belgians given large sums. Soup kitchens are being started for the
poor and the question of bringing food supplies from neutral countries
is being taken up and pushed with activity. These Belgians are admirable
in the way they handle things of this sort. They all realise the
importance of keeping quiet so as to avoid any possibility of a
repetition of the Louvain business. It would take very little to start
something of the sort here and the result would be the same--the
destruction of the city. Naturally everybody is turning to and trying to
head off any excuse for violence.

           *           *           *           *           *

_Brussels, Sunday, August 30, 1914._--Our place has got to be the local
diplomatic corner grocery, where all the village loafers come to do
their heavy loafing. They bring in all the fantastic rumours that are
abroad in the land, and discuss them with all solemnity. In the last day
or so we have had it "on the best authority" that the Queen of Holland
has had her consort shot because of his pro-German sympathies; that the
Kaiser has given up all hope and taken refuge in Switzerland; that the
United States had declared war on Germany and Austria; that the King and
Queen of the Belgians had fled to Holland, and that all was over. These
are just a few.

Troops have been pouring through the town steadily all day on the way to
Vilvorde, where the Belgians are still fighting, and to the south, where
there is heavy cannonading going on. The Belgians are making a big fight
on the Antwerp road, evidently to hold the attention of one German army
corps and lighten France's load by just that much. It is a hopeless
fight so far as they themselves are concerned, but it throws their
courage and fighting qualities into higher relief.

We are now the pampered pets of both sides. The German troops cheer our
flag when the motor noses its way through them. The people of the town
are equally enthusiastic, and many of them are wearing small American
flags in their buttonholes. How long it will last there is no telling,
but while it does, our work is made just that much easier.

Lunched at the Palace Hôtel with Bulle and Blount. Riseis, the Italian
Secretary, came in and joined us. Bulle told him the story of our trip
to Louvain with embellishments that made my eyes start from my head. I
had not realised what a desperate adventure we had been on until I heard
it as it should be told. It made the real thing seem mild.

Before lunch we drove to Blount's to learn whether the cannonading to
the south was still going on. It was--heavy booming of German guns; no
French guns to be heard. Late in the afternoon Blount and I drove off
into the country to see whether we could locate the fighting to the
south. We got as far as Nivelles, but all was as peaceful as it should
be on a perfect Sunday afternoon. The people there were surprised that
anyone should have thought there was fighting there. It was still much
farther to the south. We drove around in search of evidence of fighting,
but could find none. And this after circumstantial accounts of
hand-to-hand struggle through all this part of the country!

           *           *           *           *           *

_August 31st._--This morning began with a troop of people in to tell us
that the rough work was about to begin, and that Brussels was to go up
in smoke. There is a good deal of unrest in the lower end of town and
trouble may break out at any time. Bad feeling has grown a good deal in
the past few days and one good row would throw the fat in the fire. I
went through the rough part of town late this afternoon and found
patrols everywhere, heavily armed and swaggering about in groups of
four. For their own sake I hope the people will not do anything foolish.

People are making another effort to get away and are not finding it
easy. At six this morning a crowd left here for Ninove, twenty
kilometers to the west. Twenty-five hundred of them clung all over the
trams that make the trip. At Ninove they walked a mile or so, carrying
their belongings, and caught a train to Alost, where they changed for
another train for Ghent. Goodness knows how many changes they had ahead
of them after that. The trip was supposed to end safely in Ostend some
time this evening. It usually takes two hours.

Hearing that the train service was open and that boats were running from
Ostend to Folkstone, we decided to verify the tidings and then get off
some of our people, who should have gone long ago.

To make sure Blount and I motored down to Ninove after lunch to telephone
the Consul at Ostend and learn the true state of affairs. When we reached
Ninove we found the station so packed with refugees that there was no
getting near the telephone bureau. The Chef de Gare, who had never in his
long and honourable career had such a mob to lord it over, was so puffed
up that he could not get down near enough to earth to hear our questions,
so we decided to proceed to Alost and try our luck there.

We motored over in short order and got quick communication with the
Consul at Ostend. He had very little news save that a lot of British
Marines had been landed there and had to-day been taken away again. He
gave us what we wanted in the way of steamer information.

I got the Consul-General at Antwerp on the telephone and learned that
all was well there.

As I came out of the booth from this second call, I was held up by a
Garde Civique, who inquired if I was the _Monsieur de l'automobile_. He
would like to see my papers. Certainly. Then I remembered that I had
left all my Belgian papers at the Legation and had nothing but papers in
German from the military authorities. I showed them anyway. Before he
could examine us any further, three eager amateur Sherlocks came
bursting into the room and took charge of the proceedings. The leader
pointed an accusing finger at Blount, and exclaimed, "You have come from
Ninove!" Blount admitted it. "You had a third person in the car when you
left there!" "_Pas du tout._" "On the contrary, I have three witnesses
to prove it." Aside from the fact that nobody could have got to Alost in
the time we had, it made no real difference how many people we had in
the car, and Blount said as much. Then our accuser changed his plan of
attack. "I observed you when you arrived, and you were speaking a
language which was perhaps not German, but sounded like English." "It
was," said Blount. "Aha," triumphantly, "but you said you were
Americans!"

By this time the Chef de Gare had come to answer our questions and we
waved our persecutors aside while we talked to him. They kept quiet and
meekly stood aside, as we bade them. While we talked with our
functionary, I looked out on the square and saw that we were a real
sensation. The Garde Civique had been called out and was keeping the
place clear. The crowd was banked up solid around the other three sides
of the square. They looked hopeful of seeing the German spies brought
out and shot. By signing our names on a scrap of paper, which the
amateurs compared with the signatures on different papers we had about
us, we convinced them that we were harmless citizens, and were allowed
to go. The crowd seemed greatly disappointed to see us walk out free.
The Garde Civique let them loose as we got in the car, and they came
thronging around for a good close look at us.

We honk-honked our way through them, thanking our lucky stars we had not
had a worse time of it.

At the edge of the town we looked up and saw two German aeroplanes
snooping around. A minute later a crowd of people surged across the
street to bar our way, shouting that we must go no farther, as the
Germans were approaching the town and that it was dangerous to proceed.
Two young officers came across the street to tell us in great glee that
they had made a dash in a motor at the first German outpost and had
brought in four prisoners. They were bursting with joy in their exploit,
but by this time they may themselves be prisoners.

In a few minutes we came to the first German outpost, and had our papers
carefully examined. From then on we were held up every few yards and
nearly had our papers worn out from much handling. At one place a young
Lieutenant looked over our papers and burst out into roars of laughter
at the name of von Jarotzky. He called to other officers. They came up,
looked at the signature, and also burst out into loud laughter. I asked
them what the joke was, but they were not telling.

We got in about seven o'clock, without incident.

Went to see von Herwarth after dinner on behalf of a poor Belgian woman
whose husband, a Major in the Grenadiers, is dangerously wounded and in
the military hospital at Antwerp. The Germans are going to send her up
to-morrow on a motor with some Belgian officers, who are being
exchanged. I saw the aide-de-camp who is going through with the car and
asked him to be nice to her. Then to her house, to shut up a lot of old
women of both sexes who were trying to dissuade her from going, on the
ground that the Germans would hold her as a hostage. I suppose she will
be off.

Mrs. Bridges,[5] wife of the former British Military Attaché, was in
this evening for help. A British prisoner told of seeing Colonel Bridges
fall from his horse at Mons, mount again, ride a little way and fall.
She cannot get to Mons, so we are getting her off to France via England,
in the hope that she may find him on that side.

[Footnote 5: Colonel Bridges was badly wounded at Mons, but escaped,
recovered, was wounded again at Nieuport, but survived both, and having
received the rank of Lieutenant-General, was the military member of the
Balfour Mission to the United States in 1917.]

It is a pitiful business, and the worst of it is that they all think we
have some miraculous power to do anything we like for them. I only wish
we could.

           *           *           *           *           *

_Brussels, September 1, 1914._--- The first thing this morning I had a
pow-wow with Hulse about how to handle the funds that are being gathered
to relieve the enormous amount of distress that we shall have to meet
here. There is a good deal of it even now. All the big factories are
closed. Most of the shops have their shutters up, and the streets are
filled with idle people. Importations of foodstuffs, even from the
outlying districts, have stopped dead. Conditions are bad enough in all
conscience, but they are nothing compared to what we have ahead, when
cold weather comes on.

A lot of bankers and big business men have got together to wrestle with
the financial problem. The Burgomaster has his people at work, trying to
get their hands on foodstuffs and coördinate their work.

I went to the Foreign Office and talked things over with von Herwarth.
He straightened out some of the tangles, and we were able to get things
moving.

I have no trouble with the higher officers at headquarters, but I never
go there that I do not want to murder the large brutes of
non-commissioned officers who guard the door. They wear large brass
plates on their chest and look like bock-beer signs. They have a free
and careless way of booting everybody out the door and refusing to
listen to anybody. I get fighting mad every time I go there and this
morning got sufficiently roused to develop considerable fluency in
German. I pictured to the large rough-neck some of the things that were
going to happen to him if I was not let in; he was sufficiently
impressed to permit me to stand on the sidewalk while my card was sent
in. When I got in I made a few well-chosen remarks on the manners, if
any, of the watch dogs of the Ministry.

From the Ministry I went to the Société Générale, where I was asked to
attend a conference between the bankers of the city. There were ten of
them in the big directors' room, and they worked to some purpose. M.
Francqui, the director and leading spirit of the Société Générale,
presided over the meeting. He explained the general situation simply and
clearly, and stated what they had done and wanted to do. They had three
points on which they wanted advice, and they were brought up and
disposed of one at a time. By twelve o'clock I got away, and felt that
the hour I had put in there had been well spent.

When I got back to the Legation, I found a nice Belgian who had no
request to make of us, but wanted to tell his story to somebody, and a
terrible story it was, too. He had fitted up his château near Mons as a
Red Cross hospital. During the battle there a week ago, 102 British
wounded had been brought in. The Germans found the château a hindrance
in their operations, so got it out of the way by battering down the
walls with artillery, and then throwing grenades into the building to
set it on fire. There was great difficulty in getting the wounded out
and hiding them in such shelter as was to be found. One man, at least,
was burned alive in his bed. It seems incredible that Red Cross
hospitals should be attacked, but stories come in from every side,
tending to show that they are.

Beside this man's property there is a railway crossing. When a troop
train passed over it day before yesterday, there was an explosion like
the report of a rifle. The train was immediately stopped. The officer in
command announced that civilians had fired upon his train, and ordered
all the men in the vicinity taken prisoners. Then, refusing to listen to
explanation or discussion, he had them all stood up against a wall and
shot. When it was all over, he listened to explanations and learned that
the report was that of a cap placed in the switch by the German railway
men as a signal to stop the train before reaching the next station. By
way of reparation, he then graciously admitted that the civilians were
innocent. But, as my caller said: "The civilians were also dead."

Another pleasant thing the Germans seem to be doing is arresting
peaceful citizens by hundreds and sending them back to Germany to
harvest the crops. They will also reap a fine harvest of hatred for
generations to come.

Poor Bulle is in considerable doubt as to his status. For many months he
has not heard from his Government, if any, and has not been able to get
a word as to whether he is Chargé d'Affaires or not. I told him to-day
that he had a rather unique situation as the representative of a country
without a Government to a Government without a country. He extracted a
chuckle from that.

Blount made up his mind to leave for America this afternoon, by way of
Ostend and England. His family was all ready to start, but when he went
down to headquarters to get a _laisser-passer_ it was refused.
Operations are apparently about to be started in _tout le bazar_, and
they don't want stray civilians seeing too much. Blount will now settle
down here for the present. His loss is our gain.

The Danish Minister was in again this afternoon. He is going away, and
has finally turned his Legation over to us. We now have four Legations
besides our own--German, British, Austro-Hungarian, and Danish.

One little thing the Germans have done here that is _echt Deutsch_ is to
change the clocks on the railway stations and public buildings to German
time. Every other clock in town continues about its business in the
same old way, and the change only serves to arouse resentment.

Another thing is, that on entering a town, they hold the Burgomaster,
the Procureur du Roi and other authorities as hostages, to ensure good
behaviour by the population. Of course the hoodlum class would like
nothing better than to see their natural enemies, the defenders of law
and order, ignominiously shot, and they do not restrain themselves a bit
on account of the hostages. Just lack of imagination.

           *           *           *           *           *

_September 2nd._--A paper, smuggled through the lines from Antwerp this
morning, gives the news that the Queen has left for England, with the
royal children; adding, "she is expected back in a few days." This move
is evidently in anticipation of the bombarding of Antwerp.

Now and then a Belgian has the satisfaction of getting in a gentle dig
at the Germans; although, if the dig is too gentle, the chances are the
digee does not know it. Last week Countess Z----, aged eighty-four, who
is living alone in her château, was obliged to put up a German General
and his staff. She withdrew to her own rooms, and did not put in an
appearance during the two or three days that they were there. When the
time came for them to leave, the General sent word that he would like to
see her. She sent back a message, asking to be excused. The General was
insistent, however, and finally the little old lady came reluctantly
down the stairs into the great hall, stopping three or four steps from
the bottom and gazing down upon her lodgers with a quizzical smile.
They all clicked their heels and bowed, and then the General stepped
forward a few paces and, in his best manner, said that they could not go
away without thanking her for all that had been done to make them
comfortable during the time they had had the honour of being her guests.
When he had quite finished, the little old lady replied in her gentle
soft voice:

"_Messieurs, vous n'avez pas à me remercier. Je ne vous avais pas
invités._"

           *           *           *           *           *

_Brussels, September 2, 1914._--A beautiful aide-de-camp of
Field-Marshal von der Goltz turned up this afternoon, and announced
that, if agreeable, His Excellency the Governor-General, would call
to-morrow afternoon between four and five. We are looking forward with a
good deal of interest to seeing the big man. He arrived yesterday, but
has kept so quiet that nobody knew he was here. The aide-de-camp nearly
wept on my shoulder; said there was nobody in the General's party who
knew Brussels, and that they were having a terrible time to find their
way around the town. He'll probably have greater worries before he gets
through.

We have at last heard from McCutcheon, Cobb, Lewis, Bennett, etc. A
telegram came to-day from the Consul at Aix-la-Chapelle, asking that we
look after their baggage at the Palace Hotel. From this we judge that
they were arrested and sent back to Germany on a troop train. They left
here for Mons, and goodness only knows what adventures they have been
through since we last saw them.

           *           *           *           *           *

_Brussels, September 3, 1914._--This afternoon, at four o'clock, von der
Goltz (Field-Marshal Baron von der Goltz Pacha, to be exact) arrived
with a staff of seven officers to make a formal call. A crowd quickly
gathered in the street, as their big gray military cars snorted up to
the door. All the neighbourhood was in a great state of excitement. The
great man is pretty old and doddery, wears spectacles about an inch
thick, and a large collection of decorations. His staff was also
brilliant in decorations and silver helmets, etc. I met them at the foot
of the stairs, and escorted them up. The Marshal is apparently blind as
a bat, for he never turned on the landings and would have walked
straight into the walls if I had not steered him around the corners.

After one good look we decided that he was to be a figure head and leave
the real work to the troop of officers and functionaries he had brought
with him.

It was supposed to be a purely formal call, but the old gentleman seemed
to have no thought of leaving, and did not budge for half an hour. The
conversation was not thrilling.

They finally left after much clicking of heels, and the bemonocled Count
Ortenburg nearly broke his neck by tripping over his sword. However, we
got them safely out of the house, while all the servants leaned out of
the windows and took in the show.

The new Governor-General has addressed a Proclamation to the Belgian
people, and has had it posted on the walls:

                             PROCLAMATION.

     His Majesty, the Emperor of Germany, after the occupation of the
     greater part of Belgian territory, has been pleased to appoint me
     Governor-General in Belgium. I have established the seat of the
     General Government in Brussels.

     By His Majesty's orders, a civil administration has been
     established with the General Government. His Excellency Herr von
     Sandt has been made Chief of this Administration.

     The German armies advance victoriously in France. My task will be
     to preserve quiet and public order in Belgium.

     Every act of the population against the German military forces,
     every attempt to interfere with their communications with Germany,
     to trouble or cut railway, telegraph or telephone communications,
     will be punished severely. Any resistance or revolt against the
     German administration will be suppressed without pity.

     It is inevitable in war that the punishment of hostile acts falls
     not only upon the guilty but also on the innocent. It is the duty
     of all reasonable citizens to exercise their influence with the
     turbulent elements of the population to restrain them from any
     infraction of public order. Belgian citizens desiring to return
     peaceably to their occupations have nothing to fear from the German
     authorities or troops. So far as is possible, commerce should be
     resumed, factories should begin to work, and the crops harvested.

                            BELGIAN CITIZENS

     I do not ask any one to forego his patriotic sentiments, but I do
     expect from all of you a sensible submission and absolute obedience
     to the orders of the General Government. I call upon you to show
     confidence in that Government, and accord it your co-operation. I
     address this summons particularly to the functionaries of the State
     and of the communes who have remained at their posts. The greater
     your response to this appeal, the greater the service you will
     render to your country.

                                      The Governor-General,
                                          BARON VON DER GOLTZ,
                                              _Field-Marshal._

     _Brussels, September 2, 1914._

At about five o'clock, Bulle came along, and we went for a long walk
together--the first time I have tried anything of the sort since the war
began. We tramped out to the Bois and made a swing around the circle,
not getting back until half-past seven, when we repaired to the Palace
Hotel and had dinner with several of the colleagues. When von der Goltz
left us, he had started for the Spanish Legation; but we learned from
the Spanish Secretary that he had never arrived. Instead, at the last
minute, an aide-de-camp had come clanking in to express His Excellency's
regrets that he was unable to come, and say that he would have to defer
his visit until a later date. Something happened to him after he left
our Legation.

X---- had an experience yesterday which made him boiling mad. He left
town in the afternoon with his Consul, to go to Alost for telegrams and
letters. He was in a car flying his flag, and had his _laisser-passer_
from the German military authorities. Near Assche, he was stopped by an
outpost, and told he could not go any further. He accepted this in good
part, and said he would go back. At this point, an old turkey gobbler of
a General arrived and lit into him for being there. He replied that he
had done nothing to which exception could be taken; that his papers were
in order, and that he was ready to return at the first indication from
the military authorities. This seemed to enrage the old soldier who
announced that they would do nothing of the sort; that they were
prisoners of war and would be sent back under armed guard. X----
protested that this was an outrage against the representative of a
friendly country, but in spite of this two armed soldiers were placed
in the car with them and another beside the driver, and they were
brought back to town as prisoners. By dint of arguments and threats they
were taken to headquarters instead of jail, and succeeded in seeing
General von Lüttwitz who piled on the excuses. It does you no good to
have legitimate business and papers in order if it suits some apoplectic
officer to clap you into jail.

One of the officers I saw to-day told me that the Germans were
deliberately terrorizing the country through which they passed. It is a
perfectly convincing explanation of German doings in this country, but I
did not think they were prepared to admit it so frankly. This frank
fellow made no claim that civilians had attacked the German troops; his
only observation was that they might do so unless they were so
completely cowed that they dared not raise their hands. He emphasised
the fact that it was not done as a result of bad temper, but as part of
the scheme of things in general. For my information, he remarked that in
the long run this was the most humane manner of conducting war, as it
discouraged people from doing things that would bring terrible
punishment upon them. And yet some of these Belgians are ungrateful
enough to complain at being murdered and robbed.

           *           *           *           *           *

_September 4th._--Autumn is coming with little gusts of wind and falling
leaves. Clouds are thick, and there is a sort of hidden chill in the
air. It is depressing in itself, and makes us think with some dismay of
what is ahead of the millions of men who are in the field, if the war is
to continue into the winter as seems probable.

I am sure there is something big in the air to-day. For several days
there has been a growing nervousness at headquarters. For four days
there has been no official proclamation of German victories. Persistent
rumours come in of large numbers of British troops between here and the
coast, advancing in the general direction of Brussels. X----'s arrest,
while on a trip to Alost, looks as though the Germans had some reason
for keeping people from getting out that way with knowledge of military
conditions here. Another thing. We were to have returned the call of von
der Goltz to-day at noon. Between here and the Spanish Legation yesterday,
_something_ happened. He never got to the Spanish Legation. This morning
we got a message from the État-Major that von der Goltz had "telegraphed"
to ask that we should postpone our call. Where he is, nobody would say.
The officer who brought the message merely stated that he had been
called away in great haste, and that it was not known when he would
return. Troops are marching through the town in every direction, and in
large numbers. Supply trains and artillery are creaking through the
place night and day, and we are awakened nearly every morning either by
the crunching of the heavy siege pieces or the singing of large bodies
of troops as they march through the streets. Every day we realise more
and more the enormous scale on which the operations are being conducted.
It seems tremendous here, and we are seeing only a small part of one
section of the field of operations.

Privately, the Germans continue to assure us that they are winning all
along the line. They say that they have taken the whole of the first
line of defences in France with the single exception of Maubeuge, where
there has been long and heavy fighting and where the result still
trembles in the balance. In addition to this they claim to have taken a
part of the second line of defences. They say that the French Government
has removed to Bordeaux, which seems quite possible, and even sensible.
They tell us all these things every time that we go over to the General
Staff, but they do not publish anything about it.

A British Red Cross doctor was in to-day and told us some items of
interest. He said that he had been assigned to care for the wounded
prisoners who were being brought back from France on their way to
Germany, and that he had seen all the British prisoners who had been
brought back by way of Brussels--about three thousand in all. He said
that they were in good spirits and were sure that things would come out
right in the end. There were the remnants of the Argyle and Sutherland
Highlanders, who went into action something over a thousand strong and
came out only a handful.

I made two attempts to see Herwarth to-day but was kept on the sidewalk
and in the courtyard by the big green dragons who guard the entrance to
headquarters. After the second attempt I returned to the Legation and
telephoned him that I should like to see him when he could get it
through the heads of these people that we were not tramps. He was very
nice and apologetic and had all the officers in the German army out in
the street waiting for me when I went back for the third time. All the
sentries were blown up and given the strictest sort of instructions
that I was to be passed along without question whenever I appeared. I
was also given another _Passierschein_ to add to my collection,
directing everybody to let me pass wherever I wanted to go. In view of
the fact that a lot of our work here is in behalf of German subjects,
this is about the least they could do.

Some news has been brought down from Antwerp that makes it seem
necessary for me to go there and get back again before the siege begins.
I had hoped to get away this morning but have not yet been able to get a
decision as to exactly what is to be done. I now hope to get away after
lunch.

I spent all yesterday afternoon enciphering a telegram which I must get
off either through Holland or Antwerp. We are able to send nothing but
open messages over the military wire through Berlin and I have a strong
suspicion that these are being censored.

           *           *           *           *           *

_Brussels, September 7, 1914._--Did not get off to Antwerp to-day but
hope to make it by to-morrow noon. There was too much going on, but
arrangements are being made for a _laisser-passer_, etc., and I
anticipate no trouble beyond being shot or made prisoner.

Gherardi[6] came in this morning for a call and then left for Maubeuge,
which the Germans had arranged to capture during the day. They seemed
very sure of it, but I would not be surprised to see him come sailing
back without having seen the surrender.

[Footnote 6: American Naval Attaché at Berlin.]

Baron von der Lancken, of the Foreign Office in Berlin, called this
morning. He is here to handle relations with the Foreign Ministers
remaining in Brussels. As we have had the care of German interests they
all come here first and our position is better than that of any other
Legation in the country. We have things on a working basis.

           *           *           *           *           *

_September 8th._--Last night, after dinner, I trotted around and called
on the wives of some of the Belgian officials to see whether there was
any news of them that I could give to their husbands in Antwerp. I found
Madame Davignon, the wife of the Minister for Foreign Affairs, in her
son's home, peacefully working away on clothes for the wounded. She told
me all the news of the house so that I could repeat it to her husband.
She is as calm as you please and far from despairing.

Madame de Broqueville, the wife of the Prime Minister, turned her house
into a Red Cross hospital at the outbreak of hostilities; it is a
beautiful big place. Of course there are practically nothing but German
wounded in the house now, but the good lady conquers her natural
feelings and has them as well looked after as though they were of her
own race. I went in in an apologetic mood for intruding on her at so
late an hour, but she had lots to say and I stayed on for a long time.
It did her good to talk, and I was so overawed by her courage and poise
that I sat and listened in silent admiration. The wives of the Cabinet
Ministers and other officials have shown wonderful nerve and are
standing right up to their duty.

Count and Countess de X had an interesting story to tell of their
experiences when the first armies went through. When the war broke out
they were at their château and were caught by the first onrush of
troops. Their fine cellars were emptied for the benefit of the invader,
but nothing more serious happened to them until the second wave came
along. Then there was a demand for more wine. As all the wine had been
carried away they could not comply. The Germans were convinced that they
were being fooled, and searched the place very carefully. Finally they
imprisoned the X's for three days in the cellar and then brought them
forth and stood them up before a firing squad and threatened to shoot
them unless they told where the wine was hidden. At the critical moment
a big gray military car rolled up, and to their considerable relief they
saw that one of the occupants was a German princeling, who had formerly
been their guest on several occasions. They called out to him, and by
his orders were immediately released. After expressing their thanks to
him they went into the château to find that soldiers were engaged in
packing up their fine collections of enamels and porcelains to ship them
to Germany. Another appeal to the Prince, who was most sympathetic. He
was a practical and resourceful man, and said:

"Of course I'll stop this, but you will understand that our men would
like to keep some little souvenir of the war in Belgium. That would be
hard to prevent. But I would suggest that you pick out all the pieces
that you value most and pack them away in that large wardrobe. Then I'll
do the rest."

Madame de X was, of course, delighted with this, and scurried about
gathering together the finest pieces and packing them carefully into the
big wardrobe. She kept it up as long as there was a nook or cranny
where odd pieces could be put, and then reported progress to the Prince.

"Are you sure that all the best pieces are there?" says he.

"All that could be packed there," answers Madame de X.

"Good," says the Prince, and then turning to his orderly: "Have that
wardrobe sent to Berlin for me."

The way the German army cleaned out the wine of the country was a
revelation to everybody. They would not take what they needed for the
day's drinking but would clear out whole cellars at a time and load what
was not drunk onto carts to be carried away. The result was that people
who had a little warning had recourse to all sorts of ingenious tricks
to save some of their store. There was one bright man in the province of
Namur who removed his stock of wine--all except a few thousand bottles
of new wine--and deposited them in the ornamental pond near his château.
The Germans arrived a few hours afterward and raised a great fog because
they were not satisfied with the amount of wine they found. The owner of
the château had discreetly slipped away to Brussels and they could not
do anything to him. However, they tapped all the walls for secret hiding
places and went over the park to see if anything had been buried--all in
vain. The next morning, however, the pond was covered with labels which
had soaked off and floated to the surface, and after draining the pond
the whole stock was carted away.

Madame B----, who was there, has an interesting souvenir which she
proposes to keep if possible. During the first days of the war her
château was occupied by a lot of officers, who got gloriously drunk and
smashed up pretty well everything in the drawing-room and dining-room.
One of them, with a fine sense of humour, took a piece of hard chalk and
wrote on the top of her piano in large letters: _Deutschland über
alles!_ The crowd left the place in the morning without trying to cover
their traces, and Madame B---- came in to put things to rights. The first
thing she did was to get a large piece of plate glass to cover the top
of the piano so that the legend would not be effaced, and over that she
placed an ordinary piano cover so that no future visitor would be
inclined to erase the inscription. When the war is over this will be an
interesting reminder of her visitors.

This morning I was ready to start for Antwerp. My _laisser-passer_ had
been promised for ten o'clock. When it did not come by that hour, I went
up to see Baron von der Lancken who had agreed to attend to the matter.
He received me most graciously, told me how delighted he was to see me,
how it pleased him to see that we came to him with our little troubles,
etc. He kept off the subject of the _laisser-passer_ as long as he
could, but when he could stave it off no longer he said that he must ask
me to see von Herwarth, who had been placed in charge of all matters
regarding passports, etc. I made a blue streak over to Herwarth's
office, and saw him after a little delay. He kept me as long as he
could, and told me all that he knew about the war and perhaps a great
deal more. When we got down to the subject of my visit he said that von
der Lancken was mistaken, that passports could be granted only by
Colonel von Claer who had his office about a block away. I began to
smell a rat about this time, but kept plugging away. I spent an hour and
a quarter in the antechamber of the Colonel, being unable to get to him
or to any of his officers. It was all part of a game. Both von der
Lancken and Herwarth harped upon the danger of the trip to Antwerp,
advised against it and told how terribly they would feel if anything
were to happen to me. I asked each of them point blank if they
contemplated an attack while I was there. They both avoided the subject,
but said that with the situation as it was now it was impossible to tell
from one moment to another what might happen. I saw that they were
undecided about what was going to happen next, and that until they did
know they did not intend to let me go. They naturally do not wish to
have anything happen to me or anyone else connected with the Legation,
so I feel entirely safe about going.

After lunch I went back to the siege and stayed until my friend, the
Colonel, left by the fire-escape or some equally desperate way so as to
avoid seeing me.

Von der Goltz had sent word to the Minister that he was coming here for
tea this afternoon, and wanted to meet the Spanish Minister. That was
our opportunity, and the Minister was all primed with what he was to say
to the old chap. They beat us to it, however. The problem had evidently
been decided since I saw von der Lancken in the morning, for he greeted
me with the news that the _laisser-passer_ would be around in the course
of the evening. He added that the General was anxious to send one of the
Belgian Ministers of State to Antwerp, and would appreciate it if I
would take him with me. He is Count de Woeste, the man who has always
fought against having an army, on the ground that Belgium was so fully
guaranteed by her treaties that it was unnecessary. Baron von der
Lancken says that they will make out a _laisser-passer_ on which he will
be included, and that the military authorities will mark out the route
by which we had best go, so as to avoid running into trouble. I imagine
it will take us by way of Termonde and St. Nicolas.

The crowd that came to tea included von der Goltz, Pacha, Baron von der
Lancken, Herr von Sandt, and Count Ortenburg--a scion of a mediatised
Bavarian family. They told us of all the glorious triumphs of the German
army, and of the terrible drubbing that was in store for their enemies.
They stayed on for about an hour.

When they left, I escorted the old man to his car. Before he climbed in,
he looked me over curiously and remarked: "_Tiens, c'est fous qui faîtes
ce foyage à Anfers! Four afez peaucoup de gourage. Che tacherai
d'arranger un petit entr'acte pour fous être agreaple. Mais il vaut
refenir aussitot gue bossible!_" They evidently intend to hold off for a
day to await certain developments, and I am to get the benefit of the
delay.

The Marshal also told us that Maubeuge had fallen, and that they had
made forty-five thousand prisoners. It seems almost incredible that the
French and English would have left that many men at Maubeuge when they
knew that it was bound to fall. Perhaps we shall find that this is not
altogether accurate. They say nothing about what is happening in
Austria. The news from England and Antwerp is to the effect that the
Russians are giving the Austrians a hard time of it.

This afternoon the German headquarters issued an order prohibiting the
bringing of newspapers to Brussels from the outside world, and
announcing that any one who brings newspapers here or is found with
papers in his possession will be severely punished. Two German papers
will be distributed by the authorities, and everything else is taboo.
They evidently intend that their own version of passing events shall be
the only one to get out here.

           *           *           *           *           *

_Brussels, September 13, 1914._--Ever since the 9th I have been off on
my little jaunt to Antwerp, and have not been able to get a line on
paper.

I was not at all sure that I was going to get away at all, until I got
down to the Legation on Wednesday morning and found my _laisser-passer_,
signed by von der Goltz, waiting for me--another to add to my already
large and interesting collection. With it was a letter from my friend
and well-wisher, Baron von der Lancken, who said that an officer would
be assigned to accompany us as far as the German outposts. He suggested
that I take along a large white flag to be hoisted over the motor for
the run between the lines. The note and _laisser-passer_ had arrived at
the Legation about one o'clock in the morning, and had looked so
important that the slaves waked the Minister from a deep sleep to
receive them.

[Illustration: Pass issued by Field-Marshal von der Goltz to enable Mr.
Gibson to pass through the German lines to Antwerp.

                          Passierschein
                          =============

    für den ersten Sekretär der Gesandtschaft der Vereinigten Staaten
    von Amerika zu Brüssel

              herrn Hugh Gibson

    und den Königlich Belgischen Staatsminister

              herrn Woeste,

    die sich nach Antwerpen begeben, von wo sie am 10. September d. J.
    nach Brüssel zurückzukehren beabsichtigen.

    Bei der Rückreise von Antwerpen nach Brüssel werden die
    vorbezeichneten herren begleitet sein von dem ersten Sekretär der
    hiesigen Spanischen Gesandtschaft,

              Marquis de Faura

    und einem oder zwei weiteren belgischen Herren, deren Namen noch
    nicht angegeben werden künnen.

    Die herren sind frei und ungehindert passieren und repassieren zu
    lassen. Jeder Beistand ist ihnen zu gewahren.

                              Brüssel, den 9. September 1914

                              Der Generalgouverneur in Belgien.]

When I got to the office I found that Villalobar had not sent over his
contribution of letters, so I ran up to the Legation and saw him. He
bade me farewell as though I were off to certain death, and loaded me
with a large bundle of letters and telegrams.

When I got back to the shop, I found my fellow-passenger, the Count de
Woeste, waiting for me. He is a leader of the Catholic party which has
been in power in Belgium for the past thirty years, and, although he is
seventy-five years old, he is still a big figure in the little country.
He behaved very well on the trip, and if I were a Belgian citizen I
should vote for him on account of his good nerve.

We bowled off to headquarters, where I was mightily pleased to find that
von Herwarth had assigned himself to the duty of taking us up to the
outposts--just for a visit. It was the only satisfactory one I have had
with him since he came. At headquarters there were always too many
interruptions. My old travelling companion had a hard time to keep
himself in hand and not enter upon a joint debate upon the war, its
causes and justification. He did well, however, and my two passengers
parted on good terms, even going to the extraordinary length of shaking
hands at the outpost.

A big military motor, filled with armed men, was sent ahead to act as
guide, and we followed along closely behind in a cloud of dust.

From the outskirts of Brussels right up to the German outposts at
Hofstade, the fields were filled with German troops of every
sort--infantry, lancers, heavy artillery, and even three or four large
detachments of sailors in blue blouses and caps. All the men, except
the sailors and a few of the Landsturm who wear conspicuous blue
uniforms, were in the new greenish grey, which is about the finest color
that has yet seen active service. Frequently we drove several hundred
yards beside a field before noticing that it was filled with soldiers.
Several of the villages between Dieghem and Hofstade were partially
burned, and there were evidences of shell fire--which to these peasants
must be a perfectly convincing substitute for hell-fire--and of fighting
at really close quarters. Between Perck and Hofstade, the fields were
covered with deep entrenchments, and over some of these were stuck dummy
heads to draw hostile fire. Some, on the other hand, were fitted with
Belgian caps picked up on the battle-field, evidently for the purpose of
inducing Belgian troops to approach for a closer look before firing.
Most of the big trees along the road had been cut down, and many houses
razed to the ground so as to have a cleaner sweep for the artillery. At
Dieghem, the German pilot-car picked up a naval officer who was to
accompany us as far as the outposts and to inspect his men on the way
back.

On the outskirts of Hofstade, under a brick railway bridge, we found the
last German troops. They had some hard fighting here at the time of the
last Belgian sortie, and the bridge and the surrounding houses showed
evidences of shell fire.

[Illustration: A street in Louvain]

[Illustration: Fixing on the white flag for the dash between the lines]

[Illustration: Refugees from the villages near the Antwerp forts]

[Illustration: Arrival in Antwerp of refugees from Malines]

I was rather against putting up the white flag, but both Herwarth and
the naval officer were most insistent that I should do so, saying that
the country between the lines was filled with patrols, both Belgian and
German; that they felt that hostilities were to be commenced at any
moment, and that any one who ventured into the district between the
lines would stand a fine chance of being shot unless he carried a
conciliatory emblem. They rigged up a long pole on the side of the car
with a white flag about six feet square, and bidding a glad farewell to
the representatives of Hohenzollern and Company, we started out to feel
our way into Malines. About 500 yards beyond the bridge we sighted two
Belgian bicycle patrols who, on seeing us, jumped off their machines and
ran into an abandoned farmhouse. Knowing that they were at high tension,
we crept up very slowly so that they might have a good look at us before
trying their marksmanship. They were peeking over the window-ledge, with
their rifles trained at us; but after a good look at the black clothes
and white whiskers of M. de Woeste they pulled in their weapons and
waved us to go ahead. About a kilometer farther on, we came around a
turn in the road and nearly ran into the first Belgian outpost--six men
and an officer. As we came around upon them they scurried behind stone
walls and trees, and gave us the usual pleasant greeting of levelled
rifles. As the most prudent things to do under such circumstances, the
car was stopped, and I went ahead to parley. The officer proved to be
young Z----. He turned quite white when he got a good look at me, and
remarked that it was fortunate they had not had a sight of us farther
down the road, as we would certainly have been filled with lead.

He said that the Germans had tried three times that morning to get
through the lines in cars flying the white flag, in one instance at
least, with a machine-gun in the car. As a result of this, the outposts
had orders not to take any chance for the rest of the time intervening
before the attack which was expected to begin at any minute.

Far be it from me to suggest that our friends had me put up the white
flag, so as to offer proof of the Belgian savagery in firing on the
white flag.

After this little experience, we took in our white flag and made the
rest of our trip without trouble. We found outposts about every hundred
yards, and were stopped at the point of the rifle each time; but as we
got farther away from the outer lines the behaviour of the posts was
noticeably less nervous, and when we got into Malines the mere sight of
our papers was sufficient to let us freely through.

Since my last trip, the Belgians have been working steadily at their
preparations for defence, and have accomplished wonders. Their large
tracts of land, some of them forming natural routes, for entry between
the forts, have been inundated with water from the canals so as to be
quite impassable. Tremendous barbed wire entanglements form a broad
barrier all around the outer and inner fortifications; they are so thick
and so strongly braced that artillery fire would be practically useless
against them, and cutting with wire nippers would be so slow that it
could not be accomplished without a horrible loss of men.

There are any number of huge searchlights placed on the fortifications
to sweep the skies for Zeppelins. Since my last visit, one Zeppelin had
succeeded in getting over the town, but was surprised and dropped its
whole cargo of 15 bombs in a distance of a few hundred yards, taking no
lives and doing little material damage. Since then, several big craft
have appeared at night, but have always been frightened away by the
searchlights and the fire of the small vertical guns which have been
ready for them.

All the villages which cluster around the fortifications have been razed
to the ground, and the avenues of big trees have been cut down; it is a
pretty dreadful sight.

I left M. de Woeste at the Grand Hôtel, where the Cabinet is staying,
and then made for the Saint Antoine. Had lunch with Sir Francis Villiers
and Colonel Fairholme, and got my first real news since the Prussian
headquarters stopped issuing bulletins of German victories. Sir Francis
showed me the telegrams he had received about the German check and
retreat in France; and Prince Koudacheff, the Russian Minister, who
joined us for coffee, vied with him by showing me his telegrams about
the Russian advance in Eastern Prussia and in Austria.

After luncheon, I had some pow-wows on the subject that had brought me,
and went to see various people for whom I had messages. They are a lot
more cheerful than the last time I was in Antwerp, and are ready for
anything.

From the Foreign Office, I went to the Consulate General, where I found
a mountain of letters and telegrams. Got off my cables, and answered as
much of the other correspondence as was absolutely necessary--no more.

On my way back to the hotel, I ran into General Jungbluth coming out of
the Palace, and was promptly hauled inside for gossip.

The Queen, who has very properly come back from England, walked in on us
and stopped to hear the news from Brussels.

I got back to the hotel, and found all the colleagues waiting for me to
hear the latest news from Brussels. I played my part, and was nearly
torn to pieces in their eagerness for news from the town where there is
none. They were all there except the Papal Nuncio, who is most unhappy
in the midst of war's alarms and hardly budges from the episcopal
palace.

After dinner I was again asked to go to the Grand Hôtel to see the Prime
Minister. He had nothing startling to say, but was anxious to know what
was going on in Brussels. He showed me his telegrams from France,
England and Russia, and his maps with the recent movements worked out
with little flags.

Monsieur de Brocqueville told me an interesting incident that had taken
place at Ghent. It seems that when the Germans arrived there, they sent
in an officer and several soldiers to arrange for requisitions, etc., a
promise having been given that they would not be molested. Of course,
the whole town was on the _qui vive_ and everybody had been warned to
refrain from incurring their displeasure. Just as the German motor
passed in front of our Consulate, a Belgian armoured car came charging
in from Antwerp, knowing nothing of the presence of the Germans, and
upon seeing the enemy uniform, opened fire, wounding the officer and one
of the men.

That was enough to start things, and the town would probably be in ruins
to-day but for the quick thinking and action of Van Hee, the American
Vice-Consul. He plunged down the staircase, seized the Burgomaster, who
happened to be present, pushed him into a motor with the wounded men and
went straight to the German headquarters to explain that the attack had
been made by two men from Antwerp who knew nothing of the agreement
reached between the city and the German forces, and to plead that no
reprisals should be made upon the city. The general said that he was
prepared to accept the statement of the Vice-Consul on this matter, and
that he would not therefore visit retribution on the town if the
requisitions which he had demanded were promptly furnished. The
requisitions were heavy, and he was apparently afraid that they might
not be sent. He said that he would send in troops to occupy the town
until the supplies requisitioned were actually in his possession, but
finally agreed to refrain from doing so on condition that the
Vice-Consul should give his word of honour that the supplies should be
forthcoming.

Van Hee took this responsibility, and the General agreed to keep his
troops outside the town. When they got back to Ghent, the Military
Governor disavowed the arrangement on the ground that the Burgomaster
had no right to enter into an agreement with the Germans and that he, as
Military Governor, was the only one with any authority to deal with
them. He therefore declared that no supplies should be sent. The
Burgomaster telegraphed the Prime Minister in Antwerp, and placed the
entire situation before him, and Monsieur de Brocqueville promptly
telegraphed back that since the American Vice-Consul had given his word
of honour to the German General it was impossible to disavow the
agreement, and that the supplies should be sent out immediately. This
was a pretty high stand for the Belgians to take, but they feel that Van
Hee saved Ghent from destruction, and are correspondingly grateful to
him.

Getting around Antwerp in the evening is quite an undertaking at this
time; no street lamps are lighted, all the window shades lined with
black, and heavy black shades are placed over the small electric lights
in the courtyards of hotels, etc.--all of this to keep from giving any
indication to the Zeppelins as to where to drop their visiting cards. A
heavy detachment of soldiers guards the approach to the Saint Antoine,
and there are patrols in all the streets. The few motors allowed on the
street have no lights, and are stopped by all the patrols, who do not
call out but rise up silently in front of you and demand the password.
It is a ticklish business finding one's way. The big searchlights on the
forts sweep the skies from nightfall until dawn, making a wonderful sort
of fireworks.

When I got back to the hotel I found Prince Caraman Chimay waiting for
me with a message from the Queen. Also poor Prince Ernest de Ligne,
whose son, Badouin, was killed in one of the armoured motors several
days ago.

Young de Ligne, who was a volunteer, was in one of three armoured cars
that went out on a reconnaissance toward the German lines. Just before
entering a sunken road between two fields they stopped a Flemish peasant
and asked him whether there were any Germans anywhere about. The peasant
told them that three Uhlans had been seen a short time before but they
had gone away. The three motors, de Ligne in the first, started down and
were attacked by about forty Germans under command of a major. De Ligne
was shot in the head and died shortly afterwards. The man who took his
place at the wheel was killed, and several others of the party were also
badly wounded and have since died. The third motor came up from some
little distance behind and opened on the Germans, killing or wounding
nearly all of them, including the officer, who was killed.

A young chap named Strauss, whose mother was an American, had the
mitrailleuse in his car, and stood upright, firing upon the Germans
without being touched by the heavy rifle fire that they directed against
him. When the Germans had been put to flight he and the other survivors
got the three cars into running order, and brought them all back to
Antwerp, where de Ligne and two of the others died.

Prince Ernest had a hard time getting through from Brussels, and was
fired on several times by the German troops, who were even more nervous
than in the morning, when I came through. One of his nephews has also
been killed, and another nephew, Prince Henri de Ligne, is in the
aviation corps, and has been in the thick of it ever since the beginning
of the war. He and his wife are also staying at the Saint Antoine.

On Thursday morning I got caught in another avalanche of telegrams and
had to spend a couple of hours at the Consulate-General polishing off
and finishing business. Stopped in at the palace on the way back and saw
General Jungbluth, who showed me the latest telegrams. I gathered up
what newspapers I could beg or buy and stuffed them into a military
pouch to take back. Had an early lunch, gathered up M. de Woeste and
Faura, whom I was to bring back, and started about one. We got through
Malines, across the only one of the three bridges which is left, and
started down the bank of the canal toward Hofstade, where Herwarth was
to meet us at two o'clock. There was heavy firing by small guns ahead
and a certain amount of protective firing from the forts behind us, with
the shells singing high above our heads, but we thought that it was
probably aimed further to the south and that we could get through.

Just at the edge of Malines we were startled by a tremendous report
near-by, and on getting out to reconnoitre I discovered a Belgian
battery, which had been established near the Convent of the Dames de
Coloma. The commanding officer of the battery, Major Nyssens, whom I had
known in Brussels, advised us to wait a little to see if there was a
lull in the fighting, so that we would get through. We went into the
convent to wait and were warmly received by a little Irish nun, who
showed us the park and pictures by way of entertainment, although we
felt a much greater interest in the banging of the battery. After a bit
Major Nyssens sent out a messenger to the farthest battery to see
whether they were prepared to stop firing for a little while to let us
scuttle through to Hofstade. Presently an answer came back that at 2:10
the firing would be stopped for twelve minutes to let us through. We
were in the motor ready to start when another messenger came from the
outer battery saying that the Germans were prepared to move up their
battery from the bridge at Hofstade--the very spot we were making for,
if there were any lull in the firing and that the Belgian battery could
not stop without endangering its position.

We then decided to go back to Malines and to try a direct road by way of
Sempst and Villevorde. On parting I gave Nyssens all my cigars, knowing
I should find plenty when I got back to Brussels, and he, in a burst of
gratitude, gave me a tiny revolver taken off a dead German officer a few
hours before. Immediately after getting the revolver Nyssens' orderly
had handled it rather carelessly, and shot himself in the stomach. To
make sure of doing nothing equally foolish, I took out the remaining
cartridges and chucked them in the canal as we rode back to Malines.

About a kilometer out of Malines we ran into a considerable detachment
of Belgian infantry and lancers and a large armoured motor with two
mitrailleuses. We were told that the Belgians had taken and retaken
Sempst three times during the day, and while neither side occupied the
town at that precise moment they were both advancing on it, and that it
might be rather warm for ordinary motors. They finally agreed to let us
talk to the commanding officer, who turned out to be none other than
Colonel Cumont, the owner of the building occupied by the Legation.

He was up on a railway embankment, lying on his stomach between the
rails, watching some German patrols through a pair of big field glasses,
and when we hailed him, rolled gracefully over the side, and came down
to talk to us. He had been out on the track most of the time for three
days and was a rather disreputable-looking person, but apparently glad
of a chance to talk with someone from the outside world.

He said he thought we would have time to get through before the row
began, and in any event he would warn his men so that if we came
scuttling back we would be given the right of way to safety.

We passed several Belgian patrols along the way and finally got into the
town, which showed clear evidences of fighting; some of the houses were
burned to the ground, and all that were standing had their doors and
windows smashed, furniture broken, and strewn about the floors with
broken bottles and dishes, mattresses and goodness knows what else; and
above all arose that terrible smell of burnt flesh.

We were nearly through the town when we were hailed by a detachment of
about twenty Belgians, who had got through and occupied the grounds of a
villa on the edge of the village. We stopped the car, and I got out and
went ahead, they remaining with leveled rifles, in their usual
hospitable manner. When I got to within twenty feet of them we heard the
whirr of a machine gun--which the Belgian soldiers call a _cinema_--and
a German armoured car poked its nose around the corner for a look-see.
It was firing high to draw a return fire and locate any Belgians there
might be in the town, but they all scurried behind cover, closely
followed by me. They were taking no chances, however, and called me to
stay in the middle of the road. Without wasting any time in formality I
made clear my identity, and, on being shown through a breach in the wall
a disagreeable-looking body of German infantry and lancers about a half
a mile away approaching through a field, I decided that we were on the
wrong road and made back for the motor.

I told my passengers what was up, and that we had to go back to Malines.
M. de Woeste, however, was all for going through on the valid plea that
he had no clean linen and did not want to spend another night out of
Brussels. Nevertheless we turned around and started back, only to rush
into the big Belgian armoured car which Colonel Cumont, hearing firing,
had sent down to rescue us and cover our retreat. This car stayed in the
village for a few minutes to meet the German car, fired a few shots at
it, and then came back to the outposts.

We then tried getting out toward the west from Malines, but soon came to
a point where the road was inundated, and had to turn back for the third
time. It was then getting pretty late in the afternoon, and even M. de
Woeste had to admit that we had best come back to Antwerp rather than
try to make a roundabout journey to Brussels after dark.

All the way back into Antwerp we met Belgian forces advancing to the
attack. They are getting to know the flag better every day and we were
greeted with waving hands and cheers everywhere we went. When nearly in
town, a young chap ran out of the ranks to where we were waiting for
them to get by, grabbed me by the shoulder, and said:

"I am born an American."

"Where were you born?"

"Aurora, Illinois. My father worked in ----'s glycerine works."

"Who do you know in Aurora?"

"I know Mr. Evans and Mr. ---- and Mr. ---- and Mr. _Beaupré_."[7]

"What's your name?"

Just then a non-commissioned officer came along and ordered him back
into the ranks; the motor started ahead, and I lost track of the boy in
a cloud of dust.

[Footnote 7: Former American Minister at The Hague.]

At the edge of town we caught up with a British Legation motor, which
was stopped at a railroad barricade. Its occupants roared with laughter
when they saw us, and Colonel Fairholme gloated particularly, as he had
prophesied that we would not get through. When we got back to the hotel
we were met with more laughter. It was the great joke of the week to see
the only people who had previously been successful in running the lines,
caught like the rest of them. I was not at all down in the mouth, as
Antwerp was most interesting, and I had left only because I had felt it
my duty to get back to work and to keep the Minister from worrying. When
I saw that there was no way of getting through I gladly accepted the
decree of fate.

When we got back to Antwerp I soon learned that it would be out of the
question to get back to Brussels the next day, or perhaps even the day
after that. The Belgians were advancing to an enveloping movement and
all the surrounding country was to be covered with Belgian troops in an
endeavour to deal a smashing blow to the Germans and compel them to
bring back more troops from the front in France. Colonel Fairholme asked
me to accompany him to the front next morning, and I accepted with an
alacrity which startled him.

After dinner I made another excursion into the darkness and told
Monsieur de Woeste that there was no prospect of getting back to
Brussels the next day. His colleagues, who were there also, impressed
upon him the futility of going, and he finally resigned himself to
staying, although he kept insisting that he infinitely preferred danger
to boredom, which was his lot so long, as he had nothing to do but sit
around the hotel.

Friday morning while I was waiting for the Colonel to get ready and was
doing my little errands down town, there came a great roaring of a
crowd, and the chauffeur, knowing my curiosity, put on steam and spurted
down to the boulevards just in time to run into a batch of three hundred
German prisoners being brought in. They were a dejected-looking crowd,
most of them Landsturm, haggard and sullen. The crowd, mindful of the
things the Germans have been doing to this little country, were in no
friendly mood, but did nothing violent. There was only a small guard of
Belgian Garde Civique to escort the prisoners, but there were no
brickbats or vegetables. The people limited themselves to hoots and
catcalls and hisses--which were pretty thick. And even this was frowned
upon by the authorities. Within a couple of hours the Military Governor
had posted a proclamation begging the people of Antwerp to maintain a
more dignified attitude and to refrain from any hostile demonstration
against other prisoners. This batch was surrounded, and caught at
Aerschot, where the Germans are said to have committed all sorts of
atrocities for the past three weeks. Among the prisoners was the
commanding officer, who was accused of being responsible for a lot of
the outrages. He was examined by the military court, which sits for the
purpose, and admitted having done most of the things of which he was
accused, pleading in his own defence that he had done them only in
obedience to superior orders, to which he had protested. The soldiers
who made the capture disclaimed a large part of the credit for it on the
ground that most of the Germans were drunk and that they were too dazed
to get to their arms. Stories of this sort keep piling in from every
side.

We got away at eleven to Lierre, where the King has established his
headquarters for his movement. The road lay to the southeast and was
through country I had not traversed before. The aspect was the same,
however--long stretches of destroyed houses and felled trees,
barbed-wire entanglements and inundated fields. It is a mournful sight.

Little Lierre was unharmed, and I hope it may remain so. The Grande
Place was filled with staff motors, and there was a constant coming and
going of motors and motorcycles bearing messengers to and from the field
of operations. Headquarters was established in the Hôtel de Ville, which
bears on its tower the date 1369--a fine old building, not large, but
beautiful.

In the morning a message had come ordering Colonel DuCane back to
England. He was out in the field, and we had to wait until he came in to
deliver it to him. The King was also away, but we put in our time
talking with the officers on duty as to the movement and its progress,
and then went out for a stroll around the town. We looked into the old
church, and I stopped and bought an officer's forage cap as a souvenir
of the place. By the time we had poked around the neighbourhood and
inspected the other _Sehenswürdigkeiten_ of the town it was lunch time
and we joined an officers' mess in the back room of a little café on the
square, and then, to kill time, sat in front of another café and had
coffee and a cigar.

We could not get started until Colonel DuCane had returned and received
his message, so we sat in front of our little café and growled. It was
maddening to waste our time there while the guns were thundering all
around us and we knew from the signs of activity at headquarters that
big things were toward. After a time a little man, the Senator for the
district, came out and asked us into his house, directly across the
street from the Hôtel de Ville. It was raining hard and we were ready
for a change, so we accepted gladly and were entertained with champagne
and cigars to the music of falling rain and booming cannon.

Our Senator was very much down in the mouth about the situation in
general and wanted to talk about it. The Colonel told him of the
bulletins that had been published in Antwerp as to the progress of the
campaign, and as this went on he cheered up visibly minute by
minute--whether as a result of the good news or the champagne, I don't
know.

The Colonel was called away after a time to talk to Lord Kitchener over
the telephone. Kitchener keeps himself informed directly as to the
progress of operations and the knowledge that he may drop in over the
telephone at any minute gives his officers a very comforting feeling
that they are not forgotten.

Finally, after dark, Colonel DuCane and Captain Ferguson came in, and we
got under way. It was too late to go forward with hopes of seeing
anything, but it was evident that things would be as hot as ever the
next day and that I could not hope to get my charges back to Brussels.
Accordingly the Colonel's invitation was extended and accepted, and we
turned back toward Antwerp considerably disappointed.

While we were waiting around trying to make up our minds--if any--I ran
into young Strauss, the half-American, who was in the armoured car
behind young de Ligne. He was really the principal hero of the occasion,
having stood bolt upright in his car and riddled the German forces with
his mitrailleuse until the few survivors turned and fled. He had with
him two of the other survivors of his party. All of them had been
decorated with the Order of Leopold for their behaviour. An order like
that looks pretty well on a private's uniform, particularly when given
with such good reason.

We had retreated inside the Hôtel de Ville during a particularly heavy
downpour of rain, when in came the King, who had spent the whole day in
the field with the troops. He was drenched to the skin, but came briskly
up the steps, talking seriously with his aide-de-camp. He stopped and
spoke with us all and took Colonel DuCane into his study and had a few
minutes talk with him by way of farewell. The King shows up finely in
the present situation and all the foreign military attachés are
enthusiastic about his ability. He is in supreme command of the army and
no detail is too insignificant for his attention.

[Illustration: At Malines--a good background for a photograph to send
home to Germany]

[Illustration: His Eminence, Cardinal Mercier, Archbishop of Malines]

We got the password and made back for Antwerp in the dark, leaving
Colonel DuCane and Captain Ferguson to spend the night at Lierre. We
were in bad luck and got stopped at every railroad crossing along the
way. Troop and supply trains were pouring down toward the front and Red
Cross trains were bringing back the wounded in large numbers. Both sides
must have suffered heavily during the day, and there may be several days
more of this sort of fighting before there is a lull.

When we got back to the hotel we found Sir Francis waiting for us with a
glowing telegram and an equally glowing face. It was the most
enthusiastic message yet received from the British War Office, which has
been very restrained in its daily bulletins. For the first time that day
it spoke with a little punch, speaking of the "routed enemy" and their
being "vigorously pressed." We tumbled through a hasty bath and got down
to dinner in short order.

After dinner it was the same old performance of going over to the Grand
Hôtel and labouring with Monsieur de Woeste, who was still bent on
getting home to his clean linen without further delay. It took the
united arguments of the Cabinet, which was in session, to convince him
that it would be useless and foolish to try to get away. Finally he
yielded, with a worse grace than on the previous evening. I had a
comfortable visit with several of the Ministers, who were glad to hear
news of their families in Brussels, and asked me to remember all sorts
of messages to be given on my return. I only hope that I shall not get
the messages mixed and get too affectionate with the wrong people. The
Cabinet was going through the latest telegrams from the various fields
of action. They even had some from Servia and were decidedly cheered up,
a big change from the dogged determination with which they were facing
bad news the last time I was in Antwerp.

Saturday morning the Colonel and I were called at six, and at seven we
got away in a pouring rain over the same road to Lierre that we had
travelled the day before. There was a big force of workmen hard at it in
the vicinity of the outer forts, burning houses and chopping down trees
and building barbed-wire entanglements. It is a scene of desolation, but
it is necessary in a fight like this.

We found things moving rapidly at headquarters in Lierre. Messengers
were pouring in and orders going out with twice the activity of the day
before. The movement had been under way for two hours when we got there
and the guns were booming all around. After learning as much as we could
of the disposition of the troops we went out and stocked up with bread,
cheese, and mineral water, and started forth to see what we could of the
operations. We took along a young officer from headquarters to show us
the road. We soon saw that he did not know the roads and could not even
read a map, and had to take over that work ourselves. Colonel Fairholme
and I went in my motor with the headquarters passenger and Colonel
DuCane and Ferguson followed in their own car with an orderly. We got to
Malines without difficulty and got out for a look at the Cathedral. It
is a dreadful sight, all the wonderful old fifteenth century glass in
powder on the floor. Part of the roof is caved in and there are great
gaping holes in the lawn, showing where the shells struck that fell
short of their mark. A few of the surrounding houses, belonging to
entirely peaceful citizens, were completely wiped out while they were
getting the range. It is hard to see what useful military purpose is
served by smashing churches and peaceful habitations, when there are no
troops about the place. Malines was bombarded when the troops had
withdrawn. It is hard to reconcile with _Gott mit uns_.

Before we left Lierre, nine troopers of the Landsturm were marched into
the hallway of the Hôtel de Ville, to be examined by the officer who is
there for that purpose. They were a depressed lot who had run away and
given themselves up, so as to be spared the hardships and dangers of the
rest of the war. They answered questions freely, telling all they knew
as to the disposition of troops and making their get-away toward the
local lockup with great alacrity as soon as the word was given to move.
Most of them were Bavarians. Colonel Fairholme speaks German like a
native. He talked with these chaps, and there was some interesting
conversation. They were all without enthusiasm for the war, and all
expressed indignation at having been brought out of the country,
maintaining that the Landsturm cannot be used for anything except the
maintenance of order in the Empire. I think they are wrong about that,
but this was no joint debate on German law, and no attempt was made to
sooth their injured feelings. A lot of men were brought in while we were
there, some of them prisoners taken during the fighting, but a great
many of them fugitives who were sick of the war, and only asked to get
off with a whole skin.

As they marched out of the hall, the King came in from the field for a
look at the morning's telegrams. He had been out since long before
daybreak, and was covered with rain and mud. He shook himself
vigorously, spraying everybody with raindrops, and then stopped to speak
to us before going in for a cup of coffee and a look at the news.

From Malines we made back along the northern side of the canal, in an
endeavour to find the headquarters of the ----th Division. We went
through a little village where all the inhabitants were standing in the
road, listening to the cannonading, and spun out upon an empty and
suspiciously silent country road. A little way out we found a couple of
dead horses which the thrifty peasants had already got out and skinned.
I didn't like the looks of it, and in a minute the Colonel agreed that
he thought it did not look like a road behind the lines, but our little
staff officer was cock-sure that he knew just what he was talking about,
and ordered the chauffeur to go ahead. Then we heard three sharp toots
on the horn of the car behind--the signal to stop and wait. And it came
pulling up alongside with an inquiry as to what we meant by "barging"
along this sort of a road which likely as not would land us straight
inside the enemy's lines. There was a spirited discussion as to whether
we should go ahead or go back and strike over through Rymenam, when we
heard a shell burst over the road about half a mile ahead, and then saw
a motor filled with Belgian soldiers coming back toward us full tilt.
The Colonel stopped them and learned that they had been out on a
reconnaissance with a motor-cyclist to locate the German lines, which
were found to be just beyond where the shell had burst, killing the
motor-cyclist. It would have been a little too ignominious for us to
have gone bowling straight into the lines and get taken prisoners. We
turned around and left that road to return no more that way. We got
about half-way up to Rymenam when we met some Belgian officers in a
motor, who told us that a battery of the big French howitzers, which had
just gone into action for the first time, were in a wood near H----. We
turned around once more, and made for H---- by way of Malines. We found
the headquarters of the ----th Division, and went in and watched the
news come in over the field telephone and telegraph, and by messengers
on motor-cycles, bicycles and horses straight from the field. The
headquarters was established in a little roadside inn about half a mile
outside the town, and was as orderly as a bank. Officers sat at the
various instruments and took notes of the different reports as they came
in. Reports were discussed quickly but quietly, and orders sent out
promptly but without confusion. The maps were kept up to the minute by
changing the little flags to show the positions of the different troops
right at the minute. There was telephone communication with the forts,
and several times they were ordered to pour fire into a certain spot to
cover an advance or a retreat of parts of the Belgian forces, and, at
other times, to cease firing, so as to let Belgian troops cross or
occupy the exact spot they had been bombarding. It was a wonderful sight
to watch, and it was hard to realise that this was merely a highly
scientific business of killing human beings on a large scale. It was so
business-like and without animus, that to anyone not knowing the
language or conditions, it might have passed as a busy day in a war
office commissary when ordering supplies and giving orders for shipment.

Just outside the headquarters was one of the fine German kitchen wagons
with two fine Norman horses which had pulled it all the way from
Germany. It had been stationed in the grounds of a château not far away,
and three men of its crew were hard at work getting a meal when a little
Belgian soldier with two weeks' growth of beard waltzed into the garden,
shot one of the men dead and captured the other two. He disarmed them,
put ropes around their necks and drove the kitchen to headquarters in
triumph. He was proud as punch of his exploit, and, for that matter, so
was everybody else around the place.

In a field of turnips a couple of hundred yards away from the
headquarters were the howitzers. There were three of them in a row with
three ammunition wagons. They had been sent here only a few days ago,
and they were promptly put into action. They were planted here, slightly
inside the range of the guns from the outer forts, and were able to drop
shells six miles from where we stood, or about five miles outside the
range of the fort guns. They toss a shell about two feet long, filled
with deadly white powder, six miles in ten seconds, and when the shell
strikes anything, "it thoes rocks at yeh!" as the darkey said about our
navy guns. The battery was planted down behind a little clump of pines,
and was dropping shells into a little village where there was a
considerable force of Germans about to be attacked. The Germans must
have been puzzled by this development, for they had counted on being
able to advance safely up to the range of the forts, feeling sure that
the Belgians had no powerful field guns of this sort.

We were introduced to the officers commanding the battery, and watched
their work for nearly two hours. One of the officers was Count Guy
d'Oultremont, adjutant of the Court, whom I had known in Brussels. He
was brown as a berry, had lost a lot of superfluous flesh, and was
really a fine-looking man. He had been in Namur, and had got away with
the Belgian troops who went out the back door into France and came home
by ship.

After we had been watching a little while, an aeroplane came circling
around, evidently to spot the place where these deadly cannon were. It
cruised around for some time in vain, but finally crossed straight
overhead. As soon as we were located, the machine darted away to spread
the news, so that the big German guns could be trained on us and silence
the battery; but the Belgians were Johnny-at-the-rat-hole again, and he
was winged by rifle fire from a crowd of soldiers who were resting near
the headquarters. They killed the observer and wounded the pilot
himself, to say nothing of poking a hole in the oil tank. The machine
volplaned to earth a few hundred yards from where we were, and the pilot
was made prisoner. The machine was hauled back to the village and
shipped on the first outgoing train to Antwerp as a trophy.

We were leaving the battery and were slipping and sliding through the
cabbages on our way back to the road, when we met the King on foot,
accompanied only by an aide-de-camp, coming in for a look at the big
guns. He stopped and spoke to us and finally settled down for a real
talk, evidently thinking that this was as good a time as any other he
was likely to find in the immediate future.

After talking shop with the two colonels, he turned to me for the latest
gossip. He asked me about the story that the German officers had drunk
his wine at the Palace in Laeken. I told him that it was generally
accepted in Brussels, and gave him my authority for the yarn. He
chuckled a little and then said, in his quiet way, with a merry twinkle:
"You know I never drink anything but water." He cogitated a minute and
then, with an increased twinkle, he added: "And it was not very good
wine!" He seemed to think that he had quite a joke on the Germans.

As we talked, the sound of firing came from the German lines not far
away, and shrapnel began falling in a field on the other side of the
road. The Germans were evidently trying to locate the battery in that
way. Most of the shrapnel burst in the air and did no damage, but some
of it fell to the ground before bursting and sent up great fountains of
the soft black earth with a cloud of gray smoke with murky yellow
splotches in it. It was not a reassuring sight, and I was perfectly
willing to go away from there, but being a true diplomat, I remembered
that the King ranked me by several degrees in the hierarchy, and that he
must give the sign of departure. Kings seem powerless to move at such
times, however, so we stayed and talked while the nasty things popped.
His Majesty and I climbed to a dignified position on a pile of rubbish,
whence we could get a good view up and down the road, and see the French
guns which were in action again.

A little later Ferguson, who was standing not far away, got hit with a
little sliver and had a hole punched in the shoulder of his overcoat. It
stopped there, however, and did not hurt him in the least. He looked
rather astonished, pulled the little stranger from the hole it had made,
looked at it quizzically, and then put it in his pocket and went on
watching the French guns. I think he would have been quite justified in
stopping the battle and showing his trophy to everybody on both sides.

The King was much interested in all the news from Brussels, how the
people were behaving, what the Germans were doing, whether there were
crowds on the streets, and how the town felt about the performances of
the army.

He realised what has happened to his little country, and made me realise
it for the first time. He said that France was having a hard time, but
added that perhaps a sixth of her territory was invaded and occupied,
but that every bit of his country had been ravaged and devastated with
the exception of the little bit by the sea coast and Antwerp itself,
which was getting pretty rough treatment, in order to put it in shape to
defend itself. He spoke with a great deal of feeling. And no wonder!

Then to change the tone of the conversation, he looked down at my
pretty patent leather shoes, and asked in a bantering way whether those
were a part of my fighting kit, and where I had got them. I answered: "I
got them several months ago to make my first bow to Your Majesty, at
Laeken!" He looked around for a bit at the soggy fields, the marching
troops, and then down at the steaming manure heap, and remarked with a
little quirk to his lips: "We did not think then that we should hold our
first good conversation in a place like this, did we?" He smiled in a
sad way, but there was a lot more sadness than mirth in what he said.

Guy d'Oultremont came up and said something that I did not understand,
and we started back toward the headquarters. We stopped opposite the
inn, and the two colonels were called up for a little more talk.

Just then a crowd of priests, with Red Cross brassards on their arms,
came down the road on their way to the battlefield to gather up the
wounded. With his usual shyness the King withdrew a few steps to seek
shelter behind a motor that was standing near by. As we talked, we edged
back a little, forcing him to come forward, so that he was in plain
sight of the priests, who promptly broke out in a hearty "_Vive le
roi!_" He blushed and waved his hand at them, and, after they had passed
by, shook hands with us and followed them on foot out onto the field. In
modern warfare a King's place is supposed to be in a perfectly safe