Chapter VI: Part 6

Some of the subordinate officers have since told us that von Jarotzky was a fighting general, and had no business staying in a post requiring administrative ability. The new man is cut out particularly for this sort of work, and is going to start a regular German administration. Functionaries are being brought from Berlin to take things over, and in a short time we shall, to all intents and purposes, be living in a German city. The first trains ran to-day in a halting fashion to Liège and the German frontier. Perhaps we shall have a newspaper.

Most distressing news has come through from Tamines. I had a long talk to-day with a trustworthy man from there, and his story was enough to make one's blood run cold. He says that on the evening of the twenty-first the Germans entered the village after a brush with French troops which were still in the neighbourhood. Infuriated by the resistance offered to their advance, they proceeded to vent their rage on the town. They shot down a lot of villagers, and arrested many more. A great many escaped to the country. A lot of houses were first sacked, and then burned. The orgy continued during the night, and through the next day. On the evening of the twenty-second, something over four hundred men were collected near the church and lined up to be shot. The work was done for a time by a firing squad which fired into the crowd with more or less system, but this was too slow, and finally a rapid-fire gun was brought out and turned loose. Of course, a great many were not killed outright and lay groaning among the dead. Now and then a German would put one out of his misery by a bayonet thrust. Others settled their own troubles by rolling themselves into the nearby river. Altogether over six hundred people were shot down, but it is hard to get any exact figures yet. After the shooting was over, other civilians were brought out and compelled to bury the dead. My informant says that some of the scenes attending this duty were quite as poignant as the shooting itself, for some buried their own fathers and brothers. One man about to be thrown into the trench was found to be still alive, but the German doctor, after a cursory examination, ordered him buried with the rest. The man had enough life left in him to raise his hand in appeal but the doctor shrugged his shoulder and repeated his order. There were many incidents, most of them horrible. The man who told the story seemed still dazed and spoke quietly, with few adjectives and little emphasis on anything he said. It was a bare recital of facts, and far more moving than if he had striven for effect.

Davis got back yesterday from his trip to the front, and we learned that he had been through a perfectly good experience that will look well when he comes to writing it up, but one that gave him little satisfaction while it was in progress. He started off to follow the German army in the hope of locating the English. After leaving Hal, some bright young German officer decided that he was a suspicious-looking character, and ought to be shot as an English spy. As a preliminary, they arrested him 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.

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!"