Agent of Peace (9 page)

After supper I pleaded for bed and he took me to the lift promising to call for me at 10 a.m. There is German time plus Summer Time in Belgium and I went to bed with the sun shining and read by daylight till nearly 11 p.m. I do not think I switched on the light once in either country.

Friday, June 9th
The morning was cold, windy, fine and showery by turns. I rang to have my coffee in bed and it came up, good in quality plentiful in quantity and three very large thick slices of the delicious brown bread and plenty of good butter and jam. I could never eat more that a part of one slice of bread and kept also a piece for the afternoon, the rest went down again.

Punctually at 10 a.m. came my Baron and found me awaiting him in the gloomy silent hall. He suggested taking me to the lace depôt – set going by the Germans to provide work for the countless lace-makers in the country districts. The turnover is large and the profits go to the Belgian Red Cross. I have in my Aide Mémoire
*
noted the details about this work, which was evidently supported solely by the German officers buying for their wives. Some of the lace was good, but none of it the very first class, nor of the type I most admire. Also the wages did not seem to me high enough, tho' undoubtedly a help. I bought a couple of small bits as it seemed de rigueur. Just below was another shop where blouses were being made, the manager being an Americanized German. Some thirty young women make these and work daily; in busy times several dozen more are employed. This of course, was to show me what the Germans were doing and I quite felt that whatever business they undertake they do well.

Coming out and wandering in what seemed a happy busy town, we came with a sudden start on a queue of people, three or four deep, mostly women and girls with a sprinkling of men – the Belgians waiting to be fed. It was a sharp reminder of tragic facts. They were very neat in appearance, quiet, orderly folk but the faces were strained and wan. I watched, not liking to do it, and spoke a bit with the Baron over it. (This is further described in an article I wrote about it.) He promised I should see something of these people and visit the Communal Kitchens. Afterwards it became an ordinary sight and one that recurred again and again in different quarters of the town and in different towns. It always gave me a shock and brought one back to realities.

He suggested turning into the Cathedral which I was glad to do, wondering if any ill had happened to it. Seeing all in statu quo I exclaimed with delight that no harm had been done at which he drew himself up and said stiffly, ‘Germans do not destroy Cathedrals'. And in the end I think this will be found to be true, Louvain Cathedral and Malines are both partially injured (tho' Service is being held in both) but the one, Malines was injured equally by the cannon of both sides, and not much; the other, Louvain, caught fire accidentally, the Germans doing their best to extinguish it. Dinant Church is, I believe, destroyed as a result of the street fighting consequent upon the civilian outbreak – and probably churches in the small towns of Visé etc but we paid no respect to churches in South Africa. Rheims is the usual instance, but the French used it as an observation post and not till then did a German ball hit it and then only one. At least the ‘White book' on this must be read before judgment is formed. Anyhow grand old Brussels Cathedral stands unharmed and so does Antwerp. We admired the piers and the wonderful tints and hues of the stained glass.

Later we went to call on Captain Bruhn the singularly capable and genial chief of the department that works with and controls the Belgian ‘Comité National' for feeding and clothing the people. He was so delighted to be visited by an English person desiring information and he entered into very full explanations of the American Relief Commission and the ‘Comité National'.

It was evident that his relations with the Belgian ‘Comité' were very good and sympathetic and he admired their organizing powers and their devotion. He was not so laudatory of the Americans who compose the Commission and it looked as if there had been friction. The tendency was to imply that they were businessmen
pur et simple
and were doing this work not only from philanthropy but from ulterior motives of eventually (even if they had not previously) establishing business connections. In this there may be some grains of truth, but undoubtedly it showed ignorance, real or feigned, of the great sacrifices and devotion of Mr Hoover and his colleagues. Especially Mr Hoover who I am told gave up a position bringing £50,000 a year to carry on the work of relief.

Many of the facts issuing from this talk are recorded in the Aide Mémoire. Captain Bruhn struck me as a singularly fine man. He has a sister in London married to an Englishman. A man of feeling too – but of course his best qualities a bit handicapped by the singular and anomalous position he was filling. He promised me to arrange that I should see the people fed. The following day he sent me a magnificent bouquet of crimson roses.

We returned to the hotel and lunched together still talking – my Baron told me much about the naval battle, which he evidently considered a Victory, but he said that when the first telegrams came he and von Moltke agreed not to believe it – it was incredible – too good. Then confirmation constantly followed and to their minds the greater tonnage destroyed on the British side decided the matter. Later on people disputed this and in England I find it also considered a victory. To my mind Death was the victor –
Death
and
Destruction
.

Then I went to rest and he to do an hour's work. My invalid ways and unusual hours for meals were an astonishment to him. At first I fancy he was a bit suspicious of them, wondering if they were excuses for getting rid of him, but after a couple of days he understood. And in reality I was glad enough of his company for there were no letters to write or answer, no single book in the hotel and of course, except my phrase book, I had none and only two Belgian papers to read which had little in them. Three or four out of the ten days of my stay these French papers did not appear, being all confiscated.

Conditions
: I had no paper to write upon except the notebook I had brought and that I was under orders to submit to the authorities before leaving Belgium. Often I wished to have a chat with the waiters or porters or chambermaid, but beyond the necessary exchange of words I never did, fearing they might be spies placed there to inform if I contravened the rules.

It was cold, wet and very windy and I found it hard to walk against such odds – I could not have done so if it had not been for the relief of descent from the altitude of Berne. We walked again rather forlornly about Brussels and arranged to visit Antwerp the next day. I forgot to say that the Baron took me that afternoon to a smart restaurant for tea. I did not want to go, it being discordant to my feelings to be seen eating in a public place with a German officer and an unpleasant sense of being stared at by men who were evidently Americans made me determine not to go again. I suppose he noticed it as he never suggested it again. I only took a cup of chocolate which cost 1fr.

Saturday, June 10th
The morning promised better and we trammed to the station. A good deal of this Central Station is shut up and at the turnstiles passports and passes have to be shown as well as tickets. Soldiers standing sentry everywhere. As the Baron did everything for me I had of course no trouble, but I knew by old experience what a nuisance it must be to the population. Yet a goodly number of people always seemed to be travelling. I noticed that the Railway Stalls were covered with German papers and books. I won't say to the exclusion of all other, but vastly preponderant. We agreed to my joy to take 2nd class for all our trips. I had not liked to ask fearing there might be some objection and I was relieved when he proposed it. This first journey was exciting. I wanted so much to see Malines [Mechelen] and bombarded Antwerp. There was not however very much to see en route. The tower of Malines, beautiful as ever, was the chief feature of our little trip and there was a bridge that had been blown up by the Belgians and rebuilt by the Germans and there was this tiny village of Duffel where some houses had been ruined and a certain amount of damage done to the Church. But the landscape as a whole was green, fruitful and smiling – there was little to make me think of a devastated country. I was very much astonished. There did not appear to be any systematic destruction though I have since heard there was at Visé and Tirlement.

We ran into
Antwerp
, and looking hard to find them I saw a house here and there ruined in the outskirts of the town and a few with just windows broken. Outside the Main Station up the long street and to right and left there was not a sign of destruction of any kind. I determined to walk in order to search more at leisure for any signs of war and we went up the long street and past the Royal Palace finding everything in statu quo. The sun was bright but the clouds were magnificent and boded ill. It was extremely cold. Then we reached the Shoe-market and there found a small block of houses completely ruined. It is supposed they were aiming at some Municipal buildings which are nearby. The Groenplatz was untouched and we crossed it to gain the Cathedral and see how it had fared. It was unimpaired. We went outside and scrutinized the façade well having heard that there was one mark somewhere, but it was not visible to the lay naked eye. We walked about a good deal on all sides seeking the ruin one expects in a bombarded town, but we could find none other. Then alas! thunder began and a deluge of rain so we sought a restaurant for shelter and luncheon. There seemed to be only one which my Baron was willing to enter; he absolutely refused to go to all others though we passed several – it was evident to me that he feared to meet the population. The one we visited was quiet, good and not dear. Surprising how even in the midst of war, Continental restaurants manage to produce a better-cooked and more savory meal at a lower price than one can get in London.

The rain had been a deluge and while my
Baron looked for the restaurant I had to shelter in shops. It was extraordinarily tempting at such moments to talk to the people and learn their points of view but I felt my parole would not permit of that. After lunch it cleared, though a terrific and icy north wind prevailed, nevertheless we went to see the old buildings in that wonderful Square near the docks, not a stone was touched – everything safe – and on to the docks which more than anything else showed the effects of war in Antwerp – I had last seen them full of shipping, active and busy, now the docks were a deserted wilderness – only the grass growing thick over the rusty truck rails.

When too cold and exhausted to walk more I took the tram and thus saw more of the town – the trams in all the large towns are running and manned by Belgians as usual. We got some coffee to warm us at the station in a large barrack-like waiting room evidently given up to soldiers, and the sun coming out I got a little warmed by the time we reached
Malines
. Here we spent a long and interesting afternoon. It is only about 25 minutes from Antwerp. The glass roof of the station was riddled with holes and in the station square, two or three houses have their windows broken and are boarded up or covered with sacking. Taking the tram up the long main street to the Cathedral we could see that a number of the houses had broken windows and curiously enough none of them seemed repaired though many (not all) of them were still inhabited. This may have been scarcity of glass or of labour or absence of the owners or of money – or still more likely a desire which seemed evident in the towns to leave things as they were. Malines had been fought over by the two sides – and shewed signs of this. We visited the Cathedral at once; the Baron pointing out to me with considerable fairness which bombs must have come from the Belgian and which from their guns. It seemed to me that the worst harm had been wrought by the concussion – which had shattered the priceless windows and bits of jewelled glass lay about the ground. The gable and buttress at the west end can be repaired, but the glass never can be restored. So sad to see and so wonderful to think it could have escaped with so little structural damage, little at least so far as the eye of the amateur could judge. The fine old tower shewed no injury. Service was held in part of the church (I believe this statement to be accurate but I must verify it from my notebook left in Berne). I stooped and picked up many bits of the coloured glass lying in the débris and some street children seeing me do this followed suit and soon began to follow me down the street bringing bits for sale. The officer looked askance at all this – not forbidding but not officially approving and indeed remarked that he ought not to allow it. However he let it pass and I brought away these treasures, wondering how the inhabitants had let them lie there so long. I fancy I started a new industry in Malines that afternoon.

The Cathedral precincts seemed to me more marred than the Edifice itself – two or three rare old houses of a public character probably being destroyed all but the walls. Everywhere I marvelled why the flames which gutted such buildings failed to touch adjacent houses on either side, but it is a feature of the very limited nature of the destruction in Belgium that destroyed houses are often to be seen dotted here and there amongst others quite untouched. Not far from the Cathedral Square a block of houses was completely levelled and there, a few men were at work evidently with a view to begin reconstruction. The large Church where the Rubens formerly hung was untouched as far as one could see, only in this case also the lofty windows had suffered from concussion and the vacancies filled with plain glass. Services were going on and it was impossible to do more than ask the verger for news of the Rubens. He pointed to the Crimson Curtains behind which it had hung, and assured me it had been removed for safety. He was uncertain where, but believed it to be in London. As we wandered on we found streets adjacent to the main street which had suffered somewhat severely, while around the Station the houses with windows shattered, though numerous, were the exception rather than the rule. Altogether Malines has been marked with a mark that generations won't obliterate, but to have been the scene of conflict between two such forces and have escaped so lightly in modern warfare is a marvel.