Betweenmy tours through the Liège district I made a trip in the direction of Tongres, because I wanted to know what had become of all those Germans who had crossed the Meuse near Lixhe. It was remarkable to notice how friendly the Flemings of that district behaved with regard to the Germans. Although they criticised the violation of the country's neutrality sharply, and every family was proud of the sons who had taken up arms in defence of their Fatherland, yet they judged quite kindly the German soldiers who passed through their district. I often heard expressions full of pity toward those men, who could not help themselves, but were compelled to do whatever their superiors commanded them.
The Germans did themselves great injury undoubtedly by their vulgar and barbarous demeanour, for that lost them every claim on the sympathy of the people.
They behaved tolerably well during the first few days after the occupation of Tongres; but that did not last long, and soon they began here also to commit atrocious acts of terrorism. One eveningat about the middle of August several civilians were killed, a dozen houses along the road to Maastricht were fired, and in the town the windows of several shops smashed, which was followed by general looting. That lost them whatever sympathy they might have met with in the district.
On August 12th I came for the first time to Tongres. They had been there only a few days, and only near the town-hall did I see a goodly number of the garrison. Many wounded were brought there, and carried in through the door under the outside stairway. They came from Haelen, where a battle was being fought that afternoon and for which they had left in the morning. For the attack on the entrenched Belgians they had used cavalry exclusively, who were simply mowed down by the murderous fire from the hidden mitrailleuses and the infantry fire from the trenches. The Germans suffered a great reverse, and were deeply embittered.
Just outside Tongres I met a fleet of Red Cross cars loaded with wounded. Cavalry escorted them. I was stopped and ordered to go back, as they expected the Belgians to attack Tongres.
I thought the result of the battle of Haelen rather important, and should have liked to have wired it immediately to my paper. Until now I had always gone on foot, that being the only conveyance which the Germans could not seize. But this time I preferred a bicycle, as the only way to get to The Netherlands on that same day. So I tried at a couple of bicycle-shops to get a second-hand one for love and money. At the first shop I asked:—
"I suppose, madame, that you have an old 'bike' to sell?"
She looked me up and down suspiciously, and then said:
"No, I've none to sell."
I did not fare better at the next. There the answer was:
"I refuse to sell 'bikes' to Germans."
"But, madame, I am not German; I am a Netherlander. I should...."
"I can hear quite well that you are German, and if you were a Netherlander you would not venture on a bike at this moment. If you come here to seize my bikes, I'll deliver them, for I cannot do anything against that, but I refuse to sell them of my own free-will."
The dear lady rapped it out in such a decided tone of voice that I desisted. I told my trouble to the proprietor of a café where I took a glass of beer; he, examining my papers, placed confidence in me, and got me a rickety thing, for which I paid twenty-two francs.
After all, this was better than walking, so I decided to make a small detour, go once more to Liège, and see how the forts were. I lost my way in a maze of by-roads, and got at last back to the main road near Jupille, where I met a patrol of Uhlans, who came in my direction at a trot.
Already from a distance with much fuss they signalled to me to stop, and of course I obeyed at once. Two men dismounted, came to me in a perfect rage, and, without asking who I was or what I was doing, cut my tyres to pieces in severalplaces; they abused me with wild gesticulations and threats, jumped on their horses, and rode off. I dragged my wretched vehicle with its stabbed tyres a little distance, but then met a second patrol, who showed still greater indignation, and destroyed it altogether.
For the rest of the journey I used my only remaining means of transport, my legs, and after a walk of some hours got to the frontier of The Netherlands near Oud-Vroenhoven. A Netherland custom-house officer asked for my papers, and I showed him my huge passport. The man looked at the sheet critically, and made out that I could not possibly be a Netherlander, as I was the holder of a "foreign" passport.
My "foreign" passport was, of course, in French, of which language the man evidently knew not a word. Although I explained that this passport was the best one could get in The Netherlands, that I had paid six guilders and seventy-five cents for it, that I was a war-correspondent ofDe Tijd, it was all useless. I had to go with him to the guard-house, and the man kept the queer passport—the damning piece of evidence—firmly in his hand. All the inquisitive loafers, of which the frontier was full during those days, followed me, and so we went in procession to the guard-house, at some distance from the frontier. I heard all sorts of discussions behind me, and constantly caught words like: German, boche, deserter, franc-tireur, spy, and other complimentary niceties.
As soon as I had entered the guard-house a soldier, rifle in hand, mounted guard. The custom-house officer handed my French passport to a lieutenant, who scrutinised it closely. Then followed the examination:
"You are a journalist?"
"Yes, sir."
"On which paper?"
"De Tijd, sir; here is my press-card."
"Where isDe Tijdprinted?"
"In Amsterdam...."
"In which street?"
"Well ...! The Nieuwe Zijds Voorburgwal."
"All right; you may go!"
Having pushed my way through the loafers, who stood waiting before the house, I was able to continue my journey to Maastricht.
A few days later I had to go to Canne, a Belgian hamlet near the frontier, south of Maastricht. In the evening of August 18th an atrociously barbarous crime had been committed there, a cool-blooded murder. At Canne live some good, kind Flemings, who would not hurt a fly. The kind-hearted burgomaster had, moreover, tried for days to comfort his fellow-citizens, and was for ever saying:
"Leave everything to me; I'll invite them to have a glass of wine with me, and you will see then that they are kind people."
This he had done. Already for many days he had treated several officers to his best claret.
Tuesday night, August 18th, at about 11 o'clock, a train of luggage carts passed through Canne, and in the village the Browning of one of the soldiers in the last van went off suddenly. This was thesignal for all Germans to start shooting indiscriminately, anywhere, at anything, happily without hitting anybody. A few tipsy soldiers went to the burgomaster's house, and no sooner had his wife opened the door for the barbarians, when a shot was fired, the bullet passing through the unfortunate lady's head into the wall opposite the door. I was there early the next morning and saw the hole. It is evident that the soldiers ill-treated the dead lady with their rifles in a horrible manner, for a large part of the wall was spattered over with blood.
After having murdered the burgomaster's wife, the villains attacked a guest, Mr. Derricks, a lawyer, and member of the Provincial States, whom they killed with a bayonet. His wife broke a leg when she tried to fly to the cellar.
Mr. Derricks lived at Roelanche, but with his wife and seven children had fled for security to Canne, where he was hospitably received in Mr. Poswick's, the burgomaster's, house.
When I got to the house everything was in a frightful state. A pair of curtains showed traces of fire; cupboards had been emptied, and nearly all the china and glass broken; statuary lay broken on the floor; windows were smashed; bits of bricks and plaster from the ceilings, through which many shots had been fired, completed the scene of destruction. On the doorstep I picked up a cartridge-case, which I have always kept, because it is highly probable that it had contained the bullet which killed Mrs. Poswick.
This terrible tragedy took place at scarcely six yards from the Netherland frontier, for the burgomaster's house stands by a road half Belgian and half Netherland. The Netherland soldiers who were doing frontier-duty on the latter part had to fly from the mad shooting of the Germans. They hid behind a wall that was quickly full of bullet-holes. The German soldiers spent a considerable time guzzling the burgomaster's wine, which they looted, and afterwards went off in the direction of Tongres.
It was stated later on that the German authorities punished the culprits and had them executed at Aix-la-Chapelle;De Tijdof August 31st, 1914, also reported it. But the action of these soldiers was not worse than that of generals who had entire cities destroyed and civilians killed by the hundred, but were always screened by the German Government.
On Thursday, August 20th, I decided to go once more in the direction of Tongres. As the Germans had picketed the main road along the Netherland frontier, I made a detour and dragged my bicycle across the mountain near Petit Laney, a very trying job in the stifling heat. From the mountain top I had a beautiful vista, which enabled me to see that near Riemst a large German force was encamped at which I desired to have a look. So I walked down the hill to Canne, where some crofters were trying to get their cattle into The Netherlands. These poor creatures, who usually own two or three head of cattle, had been compelled already to give up half of their stock. From Canne I cut through corn and beetroot fields to the road to Riemst. The first German sentinels were tolerably friendly.
"Ah, so you are a Netherlander, aren't you? Then we are friends. The Netherlands remains neutral, does she not? What news have you from there; are you already at war with Britain?"
These and similar questions were asked after a superficial examination of my papers, and, having answered them, I was allowed to go on. But at a certain moment an officer appeared, who summoned me to dismount, and asked for my papers. After a short examination he ordered a soldier to take me to the commanding officer at Riemst.
The attitude of all the soldiers changed immediately; they looked at me with angry eyes, and from time to time I heard hostile remarks. Whenever I did not walk quickly enough or turned a little to the right or the left, my escort pulled me roughly by the arm. All the same I took the case as coolly as possible, fully convinced that the commanding officer would release me after a superficial examination.
At Riemst, the soldier took, or rather pummelled me into a large farm-house, and soon I faced the bigwigs, who had made themselves as comfortable as possible in a large room. Several pictures and engravings lay on the ground in pieces, whilst numerous full and empty wine-bottles indicated that they had abundantly worshipped at the shrine of Bacchus, and intended to go on with the cult. The higher officers and the subalterns seemed to be frantically busy; at least they had violent discussions with many gesticulations over a map. The soldier reported that he had brought me here by order of Lieutenant Such—I did not catch the name—and then it began:
"Who are you?"
"I am...."
"What do you want here—what are you here for?"
"I am a Netherland jour...."
"What! A Netherlander? I suppose you come to see how many troops are here, don't you? And then...."
"Please be good enough to have a look at my papers, and then...."
"Papers? Papers? Yes, of course you all have papers; all those villains who shot at our men at Visé come back from The Netherlands with papers, in order to start afresh. Later on I'll have a look at that stuff. Here, lock him up for the present."
He pointed to a couple of soldiers, and they laid hold of me. They took me to a small room, where I was astonished to find two soldiers with revolvers guarding a priest and a peasant. As soon as the door was closed behind me I wished to chat with my fellow-prisoners, for even in prison I was not oblivious of my journalistic duties. But they seemed not at all anxious to have anything to do with me, and I soon understood the reason why. At each question they threw timid glances at the two watch-dogs, and I saw that fear of these made them withhold all information. However, after a good deal of trouble I got to know that the priest was the parish priest, and his companion in misery the burgomaster. They had been taken as hostages, and would suffer punishment for acts the villagers might eventually commit against the German usurpers. I contented myself with this, as I feltthat in the circumstances further questions might make things awkward for these two men.
What might happen next? Sitting on a chair in a corner of the room I began to consider my position. For the moment it was not agreeable, but by and by those officers might find time to look at my papers. The only thing I bothered about was a map marked with the places where, according to the latest news, the German and French armies were. I kept it in an inside coat-pocket, and it might be found if they should search me.
I spent three hours in the small room with my silent companions. At last I was called, and appeared once more before the casual court-martial.
"Very well, now give me those papers."
Having got them, several officers examined my credentials, and their faces showed that the horizon was a little clearer for me.
"Oh, you are a journalist? And what came you here for?"
"Well, sir, I wanted to follow, as far as the German Authorities desire to allow it, the movements of the German armies, in order to give reliable information to the Netherland public, who take a great interest in your progress."
"Indeed! And did you take notes already? Just let me have a look."
The turn things took now was not quite to my liking, and I did not feel very safe when I handed him my scribbling-pad.
"I cannot read a word of it! Can you read it at all yourself? Yes? Oh, but I cannot understand it. Translate some of it."
That was a relief! I began to translate, taking the liberties to which every translator is entitled. And I succeeded in making a favourable impression by censoring my own manuscript.
"Well, that is right enough. But, mind, don't say in your paper that you found troops here, and especially avoid telling which troops."
"Very well, sir."
"Nor must you tell them that we detained you here. That was really not our intention at all, but just now we had no time to examine your papers."
"All right, sir."
"And what is the news in The Netherlands about the war?"
"Well, sir, not much beyond what you are sure to know already: that Japan declared war against Germany; that the Russians invaded Germany; that the French gained some important victories in Alsace; that the German fleet lost some ships...."
"Oh, bosh! Stop it! These are, of course, all lies from Reuter; they did not come from Wolff. Japan is not going to declare war against us; much rather against Russia!"
"Oh, but, sir, Wolff confirmed these reports."
"Oh no! That is impossible, and, after all, we are not afraid of Japan either. You had better write in your paper that we are not afraid of anything excepting Montenegro. And you may also inform your readers that it is better for Netherlanders not to cross the frontier, as we are going to apply much stricter measures. For we have evidence that those people from Visé and othervillages who fled to The Netherlands are returning with forged papers, in order to shoot at us. And now you may go, but back to Maastricht at once."
"But will you then please give me a pass, otherwise I may be detained again on my way back."
"Oh yes! You may have that!"
And the commanding officer gave me a pass, on which this very same colonel who had prohibited me to write in my paper what troops were at Riemst, put a stamp on that pass, which contained the German eagle, and besides this the words: "Royal Prussian 8, Reserve Infantry Regiment, II Battalion." This confirmed what the rumours said, that the troops who had passed through Visé and other places during the last days and committed those atrocities there, were the reserves which had been called up, among whom discipline is less strict than among the younger men, who arrived in these districts during the earlier days.
Although I had been commanded to return "at once" to Maastricht, I succeeded in having a chat here and there with the inhabitants of Riemst. I had visited the village about eight days ago, but what a change! Then the people assured me that "die Duutschen"[2]were not so bad after all, that they were compelled to do their duty, and were kind to the inhabitants if these were kind to them.
And at present? Every word expressed hate, profound hate, hardly controlled. They trembled all over when they spoke in deep, inspiring voices about "die Duutschen."[2]
Everything of value had been stolen from them:horses, cows, sheep, carts, bicycles, everything, everything!—only in some cases payment was made with tickets, which might be cashed after the war. During the night the German soldiers slept in the rooms, but the inhabitants—men, women, children, babies and sick persons—they locked in barns and cellars, which they boarded up.
I was not allowed to return by bicycle, and left it at a café at the crossing of the roads to Tongres and Riemst. A couple of days later the Germans had already abstracted the tyres.
The road to The Netherlands was strewn over with empty wine-bottles.
Nextday I was already back in Liège, where much was changed after my last visit. The Germans went on terrorising the inhabitants, and these, being extremely frightened, looked with suspicion at every stranger. In the streets was the smoke of burning houses, especially from Outre-Meuse.
In every quarter I met Belgian refugees from the south, and Netherlanders who wanted to escape to their safe native country. The Liège people themselves were not allowed to leave.
Nearly every hour another proclamation was posted; and this made the people still more nervous. One of them brought the information that the province of Liège had to pay a war-tax of fifty million francs. Another forbade the people to be out in the streets after six o'clock p.m.; the doors must remain open, the windows show the lights. Burning and shooting were threatened if any more arms should be found, and all houses were to be searched.
Many shops were closed on account of lack of stock, as everything had been requisitioned, and as yet no traffic was allowed to bring in fresh provisions. All this bother made the inhabitants discontented, but frightened them at the same time; they grumbled and whispered, and looked about with malicious, flaming eyes, but in mortal fear.
Labourers were called up to assist in reinforcing the conquered forts on the left bank of the Meuse, the forts which by and by might be used to shell their fellow-countrymen, in case the Germans should be forced to retire. Nobody will have offered himself for this work voluntarily, the less so as the proclamation wound up as follows:—
"Des ouvriers volontaires seront embauchés à partir du 21 Août sur la rive gauche de la Meuse, où on fera connaître les conditions détaillées":("Voluntary workmen will be enrolled from August 21st on the left bank of the Meuse, where details of the conditions will be made known.")
"Des ouvriers volontaires seront embauchés à partir du 21 Août sur la rive gauche de la Meuse, où on fera connaître les conditions détaillées":
("Voluntary workmen will be enrolled from August 21st on the left bank of the Meuse, where details of the conditions will be made known.")
The streets and squares where the high military officers had established themselves were closed by cordons of soldiers, and nobody was allowed to pass them.
The town was entirely shut off from war- and other news.
I informed a few priests of the Pope's death, which had been known in The Netherlands for several days. They knew nothing about it, and asked whether I had any proof by me. I gave themDe Tijdprinted with a black border, and armed with this document they went to communicate the sad news to the Right Reverend Rutten, bishop of Liège.
I also brought consternation to the nunnery atwhich my cousin lives by this same report of the Holy Father's demise; and the good dear Sisters roamed through the passages, wringing their hands and repeating: "Le Pape est mort!—le Pape est mort!" ("The Pope is dead!")
I met a doctor at this nunnery, who told me highly important news, but in whispers, because in these days "even walls have ears": the Allies had gained great victories over the Germans. As he saw by the expression of my face that I did not believe off-hand all he told, he became still more impressive in manner, and produced a paper, from which he recited:—
"Great German defeat at Libramont—nine thousand prisoners taken.""In Alsace the French are near the Rhine.""The Russians advanced fifty miles into East Prussia."
"Great German defeat at Libramont—nine thousand prisoners taken."
"In Alsace the French are near the Rhine."
"The Russians advanced fifty miles into East Prussia."
In the same way the list went on for a goodly length, and he became actually angry when even then I refused to believe everything. He was especially pleased with the account of the victory near Libramont. He had a friend, also a physician, who had been compelled by the Germans to go with them in the medical service, and this friend had told him this himself. It was remarkable that educated, superior persons could become so narrow-minded in times like these, and believed anything simply because they hoped that it might be true.
The town was full of soldiers, and I had great trouble to find lodgings. "Tout est pris par les Allemands" ("Everything is taken by the Germans") was the answer I got everywhere, with the resultthat I was still hunting for a bedroom after six o'clock, although nobody was then allowed in the streets. I was stopped at every turn, and after explaining my case got a hint to hurry up.
At last I found an hotel, where I could have a small garret, against which arrangement I had not the slightest objection in the circumstances. The café downstairs looked rather peculiar, with a great number of looking-glasses, and ladies with powdered faces. These seemed not averse to closer relations with me, but when I pretended not to understand a single word of French, they soon gave it up, and showed no further desire for my friendship. But I could see quite well that they discussed the question whether I was a German officer or a spy?
I went to bed early, for that day I had again walked from Maastricht to Liège. My little bedroom was quite in the roof of the house, and had evidently been used by a servant.
About midnight I was roused by an infernal noise in the street. People yelled and screamed most fearfully, and I heard rifle-shots also.
I felt not the slightest inclination to go and see what was the matter, but I stretched myself and yawned, feeling much more tired after a couple of hours' rest than when I went to bed. The uproar went on, and suddenly I thought that I also heard a hubbub in the café downstairs. And, really, it came ever nearer. People rushed up and down the stairs, screamed and yelled, doors were banged, in short it was as if they were pulling down the house.
Very sleepy, I went on listening ... listening ...probably until I fell asleep again, for I cannot remember what happened after.
I woke up in the morning, and when going downstairs saw that the doors of all the rooms stood open, and everything inside was in great disorder. In the café tables and chairs were overturned, and broken looking-glasses lay on the floor. The front door was also open, and I walked away.
And now the explanation? During the night the Germans had started house-to-house searches, and wherever the doors were not opened quickly enough, the soldiers began to shoot. The inhabitants were then driven into the street amid loud screams and cries. It was also said that some persons had been shot.
By what accident had I not been disturbed? The height, perhaps, at which my miserable little garret-room was situated.
The hotel where I stayed that night was calledHôtel de la Paix; an hotel of peace, indeed!
As soon as I heard about the horrors that took place at Louvain, I hastened to try and get there to find out, if possible, by personal observation the truth of the numberless conflicting stories that would undoubtedly grow up from the facts. I expected that the situation round about the town would be rather critical, and decided to proceed cautiously. It is rather a long stretch of nearly forty-five miles, but I succeeded in getting to Louvain in the afternoon.
The road itself had prepared me already in some degree for the horrors I should find there. All the villages through which I passed, excepting Tongres and the townlets of St. Trond, Borgloon, and Tirlemont, were for the greater part burned down or shelled into ruins. The German troops, who had been stoutly resisted during their march through St. Trond and Tirlemont, had attacked in a great rage the civilian population. They set the houses on fire and aimed their rifles at the terror-stricken civilians who fled from them. The men were nearly all killed, but women and children were shot as well.
On the road from Borgloon to Thienen I had a chat with an old crone, who stood weeping by the ruins of her miserable little cottage, which she refused to leave. This little house, which strenuous zeal had enabled her to buy, was all she possessed on earth besides her two sons, both fallen through the murderous lead of those barbarians, and buried in the little garden at the back of their ruined home. Of another family, living close by, the father and two sons were murdered in the same way.
Between Thienen and Louvain I met endless trains of refugees, exactly like those I had seen already near Visé, Liège, and other places. These also carried their wretched bundles, and children and young people did their utmost to encourage and support their elders on their arduous path. All these people saluted me in a cringing, timid manner, nodding smilingly and taking off their caps already from afar.
I saw some extremely poor people, very old and stiff, to whom walking was nearly impossible. A Bavarian soldier escorted them. He had his rifle slung across his back and in both hands carried the luggage of the unfortunate creatures. He seemed to have come a long way already, for he looked tired, and the perspiration ran down his face. Although it is only natural to assist one's fellow-creatures, this scene touched me, for hitherto I had seen the Germans commit rough, inhuman deeds only.
I noticed the smell of fire already several miles from Louvain. On both sides of the road small mounds indicated the graves of soldiers who fellduring the brave resistance of the Belgians before Louvain. A small wooden cross and some pieces of accoutrement were the only decorations. Carcases of horses were lying in the fields, from which came a disagreeable smell.
The town was on fire, and ruddy smoke hovered over it. Deserted like a wilderness, not a soul moved in the streets. The first street I entered was the Rue de la Station. Large, imposing mansions used to stand here, but the devouring fire consumed even the last traces of former greatness.
All houses were on fire, and every now and then walls fell down with a roar of thunder, shrouding the greater part of the street in a thick cloud of suffocating smoke and dust. Sometimes I had to run to escape from the filthy mass. On several walls an order was written in chalk directing the men to come to the market-place to assist in extinguishing the fire, and the women to stay indoors. As soon as the order had been obeyed the Germans drove the men from the market to the station, where they were packed in trucks like cattle.
Farther on in the Rue de la Station lay nine rotting carcases of horses, the intestines oozing from the bodies, and a greasy substance was poured over their skin. The stench was unbearable and made breathing nearly impossible, which compelled me to jump on my bicycle and escape as quickly as possible from the pestilential surroundings.
The sun was already setting, and became still redder, making still more abominable and more infernal the glare of the burning town. Nobody moved about in this abode of death.
I roamed about aimlessly in a scorching heat. Whither? I did not know myself. I did not know Louvain and met nobody whom I might ask something. I came near a couple of streets that were only ruins; the walls collapsed against each other and filled the roadway with rubbish, so that sometimes I could not see whether I walked on or beside the place where the houses used to stand.
Bicycling was of course out of the question; I shouldered my bicycle and stepped across the glowing cinders, which singed my soles. One spot could still be recognised as a street corner. Three soldiers emerged there suddenly and aimed at me with their rifles.
I explained who I was, and was then allowed to come nearer. They were drunk, and with glassy eyes talked about francs-tireurs, the friendship Germans felt for Netherlanders, and so on. One of them entered the still burning corner house and returned with three bottles of wine, one a bottle of Champagne; corks were drawn and one of the bottles handed to me. First I said that I never took wine, then that the doctor had forbidden it; it was of no use. The fellow who held the bottle in front of me got nasty, and shouted:
"If you don't drink with us you are not our friend." At the same time he beat the ground with his rifle-butt and, willy-nilly, I had to drink.
Suddenly several shots sounded in the neighbourhood. The three took their rifles and looked round, somewhat scared. They assured me that they would protect me. If there had been occasion for it, it would have been against their own comrades,for a troop of soldiers came sailing along, swinging about their rifles and shooting at the burning houses as they walked on, without rhyme or reason, anyhow and anywhere. These were drunk also. At last I was able to shake off my "friends," and got through another street into the market-place, at the town-hall and St. Peter's Church. The beautiful town-hall happily was not destroyed, as the first reports intimated, but St. Peter's had been damaged most cruelly. The spire had disappeared, the roof collapsed, windows broken, the altar burned, the pulpit badly damaged, and so forth. The two last-named parts were fine works of art.
For the rest most houses in the market-place were on fire. Soldiers were billeted on one of the corner houses, and I was of course detained there, but released again, after having been requested to show up the francs-tireurs. I had to consider also where I might pass the night in this burning city? I asked an officer's consent to stay the night with the soldiers. He gave his permission if I could get the consent of the commanding officer, whom I might find at the station; he told me that he was sure to grant it.
Before I got there I passed the Halls of Louvain, the building that contained the world-famous library, with its numerous art-treasures. Only the outer walls were left standing, inside it was all ruins. All was reduced to dust, to miserable rubbish, and never will one single page be recovered of all those thousands of burned manuscripts.
I was greatly astonished to see a little old man sitting by his house, while all those in the neighbourhood were burning. His own dwelling had escaped without much damage, and was only hit by rifle bullets. He told me that his family had fled, his son with wife and all children but one, a small boy. At length he left also, but had lost his way outside the town, and returned to his house, where the Germans "allowed" him to remain. I considered that I might after all sleep better in that house than yonder among the soldiers, and asked the little man whether he would put me up for the night. He did not object at all; but in spite of my pressing, he refused absolutely to accept any payment.
"But," he said, "but perhaps you brought some bread with you to eat on the road, and I should like to have a piece of that ... not for myself ... but for my grandchild; we had nothing to eat all day long, and the little boy is so ... is so hungry."
The poor man wept, and, although I had taken with me no more than two pieces of bread-and-butter, which I had not touched yet, I could not bear the sight of these poor, hungry things, and handed over to them my food.
As I passed a Red Cross Hospital, partly spared, I noticed a Flemish doctor, who first looked at me from the door held ajar, and then came nearer; a strapping young fellow with a black beard. After I had made myself known as a Netherlander, he was clearly surprised, and it seemed as though he had a lot to ask or to tell. I expected to hear a torrent of abuse against the Huns, who had destroyed everything, and murdered so many innocentpeople, or a lament about the valuable treasures of the library, which also had not been spared; but no, other thoughts occupied his mind. With a slightly trembling voice he asked:
"Ah well, you come from The Netherlands; tell me whether it is true that you have let the Germans through, allowing them to ravish us? Tell me whether this is true?"
The man became quite excited, and took hold of my sleeve. He looked me straight in the face, as if he wanted to find out by the expression of my eyes whether I spoke the truth. I could easily stand the scrutinising look, for I knew too well how utterly false those suspicions were. So I replied with great emphasis:
"I know that those rumours have been spread about, but also that they were contradicted by Belgian officials. I know also, and can affirm it from my own personal observation, that there is not a single word of truth in those accusations, for I passed the early days of the war in the district where the fight was going on."
The good man's face became quite cheerful, he grasped my hand, deeply moved, and, pressing it warmly, said:
"Ah, well, I am sincerely glad to hear that. You cannot believe what awful sorrow it gave us, Flemings, when we heard that the Netherlanders were conspiring with the Germans."
The doctor now became more communicative on other matters. According to him the Germans contended that the inhabitants had been shooting from windows and cellars, in order to prevent thegarrison from assisting their comrades, who were fighting a battle against the Belgians at a distance of about four miles and a half from the town. Such an organised action of the inhabitants, under the tyrannical rule of the Germans during the eight days before the destruction, he called impossible, and therefore the whole accusation absurd. At any rate they had felt that the destruction was coming, and had been planned systematically, for during those eight days the Germans had plundered the population, and taken from them all bread, even what they required to feed themselves.
To avenge this alleged shooting by civilians the fires had been kindled in the houses, maxims placed in the streets, women and children beaten, men imprisoned or murdered.
The discovery by the Germans of so-called depôts of Belgian rifles, each rifle labelled with the name of a citizen, was a gigantic "misunderstanding." Already before the Germans occupied the town the burgomaster had issued an order that all arms should be delivered. The inhabitants had obeyed, and the rifles were provided with a card so that each might be returned to the lawful owner after the war. This collection of arms has been used by the Germans as evidence of an organised revolt of the citizens.
When I told the doctor that I had to go to the station, he explained to me how I could get there without walking across red hot cinders, and I followed his advice. I walked through quarters which used to be the pride of the city, but were now turned into heaps of rubbish.
They made also sad havoc of the Boulevard de Namur. Many mansions of the aristocracy had been destroyed and many people killed. There were corpses still lying on the Boulevard as I passed, all in a state of decay. The smell was unbearable and the sight loathsome, especially when I saw several drunken soldiers insulting the bodies of these unfortunate people.
In the flowerbeds in front of the station many corpses had been buried, especially those of soldiers who had been killed in the fight near Louvain. The station itself was well guarded, but, thanks to my passport and resolute manner, I gained admission and was finally ushered into the presence of the man who is responsible for the destruction of Louvain, Von Manteuffel.
I had expected to meet a terrible creature, but must admit that he was as kind as possible. As soon as he had learned from my papers that I was a Netherland journalist, he jumped up and stood in the attitude as though he saw in me the personification of the Kaiser. He already probably felt the pangs of remorse, and now wanted to try and justify himself as far as possible in the eyes of the public.
He stated that the cause of the destruction was the necessity of punishment, because Belgian soldiers in civilian dress had stayed behind in Louvain, waiting to attack the German army from behind at the first favourable opportunity. They thought that their chance had come when for a short time the German troops had to be withdrawn from the fortified camp of Antwerp to take their share in afight near Louvain. Von Manteuffel thought that by attacking the troops in the town the Belgians hoped to prevent the Louvain garrison from assisting their comrades.
He did not seem to mind much the destruction of the Halls with their world-famous wealth of books; anyway he spoke about it in an unconcerned tone. But he seemed to attach great importance to the safety of the town-hall. He said that when the buildings adjoining the town-hall began to burn, he had them blown up in order to keep the fire away from the beautiful monument.
As darkness was coming on I asked him whether it was not dangerous to pass the night in the house of that little old man, whom I mentioned above. He saw nothing dangerous in it, as by far the greater part of the town was deserted, and no attack need be feared.
So I thought that I might chance it. The house was some distance from the station, near the railway line; opposite stood a sort of goods station guarded by six soldiers. Before entering the house I had a chat with them, for I thought that if I explained my position and told them that the commanding officer gave me permission to pass the night in that house, I should be much safer if anything should happen during the night, because they knew then that they had to deal with a neutral journalist. They might moreover warn me should the fire that was raging all around reach that house. So I told the whole story to these fellows, who were also more than half drunk, showed them my passports, gave them some cigars, and after a friendly chat wentto the old man who was to put me up for the night.
There was of course no gas lit, and there was no paraffin lamp in the house. I was shown to my room by the dim light of a candle. The old man could hardly get up the stairs, as he was trembling all over in consequence of the days passed in fear and dread. The ceiling of my bedroom had been pierced by bullets, and the fragments covered nearly the whole of the bed, which had not been made after it was last used. The unaccustomed work of stripping and making the bed was soon finished, and I was hardly ready when a soldier entered at the door, which had to be left open by order, and shouted from the bottom of the staircase that I was not allowed to have a light, and must blow out my candle.
I was soon fast asleep, tired out by my bicycle ride of that day of about forty-five miles, and my wanderings through Liège. But my rest was not to be a long one. At about ten o'clock I was awakened by a great noise on the stairs, and was surprised to see six armed soldiers in my room. That is not exactly a pleasant manner of waking up after so short a sleep. They informed me in a gruff voice that I had to get up, to dress and follow them. As I obeyed the order, I asked what gave me this unexpected honour; but they refused to enlighten me on that point.
After I had dressed in their presence, they searched all my pockets, and felt all over my body to find out whether I had any arms concealed about me. Then three soldiers went downstairs, I had to follow these,and the other three came in the rear. I did not understand at all of what capital crime I was suspected which made it necessary to have me arrested by six soldiers armed to the teeth.
We waited in the street for two of the soldiers who went to fetch the old man. After waiting a good while the poor wretch appeared between them. He wept profusely, and between his loud sobs affirmed repeatedly that he was innocent, that he did not know me, that I told him I was a Netherland journalist, and so on, and so on: "Oh, gentlemen!—oh, gentlemen!" he exclaimed, "I must not leave my little boy ... my laddie; ... he is quite alone.... Oh, let me go!" ...
I pitied him from the bottom of my heart, and tried to console him by remarking that it was all a misunderstanding, and that I would see to it that he would soon be released.
"Come now quietly," I said; "so much the sooner you will be back with your laddie."
But he did not take any notice of all my exhortations and was entirely impervious to them in his grief. So I went to the station side by side with the weeping man, and surrounded by the six soldiers. The crackle of the flames, the sound of collapsing houses seemed more terrifying in the night than in day-time, and now and again I got a shock when suddenly, by the uncertain light of the flames, I saw the corpse of a civilian lying in the dark shade of the tall trees on the Boulevard.
Whenever our escort fancied that they saw something, they stopped and called out to the supposed approaching persons: "Who goes there?" Sometimes it was only some shrubs that they saw; at other times patrolling German soldiers. "Parole?" was asked: "Duisburg!" and after that answer they came nearer. At the station I was taken to an officer who sat at a table on the platform and had lit up his nearest surroundings by means of a paraffin-lamp. My little old man wept now so badly that he was quite unmanageable, and the officer made up his mind to get rid of him as quickly as possible.
"Tell me, father," he began, "did you allow this man by your side to stay the night at your house?"
"Oh ... oh ... let me ... go to my laddie ... let me go ... oh ... oh...."
"Yes, all right, you may go, but we only want you to tell us what you know of this man."
"Oh—oh ... I don't understand you ... let me go ... my little boy ... we have nothing to eat ... we are innocent ... I do not know the gentleman ... oh ... oh!"
I took the liberty to explain to the officer that the man did not understand him, and stated that he did not know me.
"Then, why did you want to stay at the man's house?—what brought you here?"
Thus my examination opened. I told him everything from beginning to end, also that the commanding officer had given me permission to stay at that house, that I had shown my papers to the soldiers at the goods station opposite the house, and that I did not understand why I should be put to all this inconvenience.
He explained to me that one of those soldiers accused me of ... spying and arson. He had thought to recognise in me a person who had asked him that afternoon whether he was ... a Belgian or a German soldier, and whom he had also seen escaping from a factory which was in full blaze a moment later.
Highly indignant, I claimed of course that that soldier should also be called; but I was told that I had better assume a more modest tone. I then asked to be taken to the commanding officer, whom I had seen that afternoon; but he was away on inspection or something, and would not return before the next morning.
After this the officer examined my papers carefully one by one, and had to admit that they were in perfect order. Still, he had no authority to take a decision before I had been seen by the commanding officer.
The old man was allowed to go home, escorted by the same soldiers. At the very moment that he was about to leave, I happened to notice on the platform a gigantic heap of loaves, brought in by train for the soldiers.
"Do you know," I asked the officer, "that this old man and his grandchild are starving? He put me up because I gave him a couple of pieces of bread-and-butter for the child." He looked at me somewhat crossly, but inquired all the same whether my information was correct, and then gave the old man two loaves, which dried his tears immediately, and for which he thanked the donor in a quivering voice.
Two soldiers now took everything I had in my pockets, even my watch and my purse. This brought also to light a German map of Belgium, with a stamp "For military use only." I was told in a gruff voice that this was a highly suspicious thing, and that they could not understand how it got into my possession. I replied quite coolly that I had bought the thing in Aix-la-Chapelle for one mark, where it could be had in many shops, and that the words "For the military only" merely revealed the shrewd German commercial instinct, which knows that people always like to possess things which are not meant for them.
I believe that this made him angry; at least he ordered me to take off my shoes also, and their inside was carefully examined.
I was now escorted to a spot where on some straw several soldiers were sleeping, who had to do sentry-go at two o'clock that night. It was a part of the platform which was not even roofed, and entirely under the open sky. But they anyway had straw to lie on, and sufficient cover, but I had to lie down between them on the flags, without any blanket. A separate sentry was commanded to watch me; every two hours another was charged with the task. I was allowed to try and sleep, with the warning that I should be shot at the slightest attempt to escape.
It was a chilly night, and a dense heavy fog made it impossible to see anything.... My "bed-fellows" raged and fumed at me, saying that I was one of those villains who had treacherously shot at them. I shivered from the cold, and felt, as it were,the dampness of the wet stone floor entering my system.
While all the others were denouncing me, one soldier was ready to believe that I was a peaceful foreign journalist, and that all the misunderstanding would disappear the next morning as soon as I should be taken to the commanding officer. He took pity on me, and got a thick soldier's coat for me as cover. I still feel grateful to the man for it! But sleep was out of the question on that wet floor, in the dense fog. When the guard was changed and soldiers came back, or others went, they could not see in the dark where they went, and treated me to a kick against my head or some other part of my body.
It was a fantastic night. Trains arrived out of the foggy darkness, their screeching whistle resounding from the far distance, and when they steamed into the station a storm of noise arose. All these trains brought British prisoners of war, captured by the Germans at St. Quentin, and hundreds of German soldiers escorted the trains, which were all covered over with green branches, and looked like copse-wood sliding along the railroad. As soon as they rumbled into the station the escorts sang loudly their patriotic songs, and "Germany before all other!" ("Deutschland über Alles!") vibrated through the fog.
The soldiers lying round about me, and those in other parts of the station, got up, shouting, "There are the British," and ran towards the arriving trains. They jeered at the beaten enemies in all sorts of vulgar and filthy words, which made the Germanenthusiasm absolutely lacking in chivalry. Eight trains with captured British arrived during that night.
At seven o'clock in the morning I was taken to the commanding officer, and was glad to see him again. He jumped up immediately and came to me with a charming smile, when I pointed to my escort and explained that I was a prisoner.
He flushed red with anger, and asked the sergeant what it all meant. The latter told the story and I filled in some details.
He showed the most profound indignation, and offered his apologies with lively gestures. He said that my papers proved quite clearly that I was a Netherland journalist. He declined to allow any further examination, and gave the peremptory order that everything that had been taken away from me should be returned at once. When I had put everything in my pockets, he asked:
"Have they given you back everything?"
"Yes, sir," I replied, "excepting my pocket-knife."
"Where is that knife?" Von Manteuffel asked the sergeant who had fetched my belongings.
"But that is a weapon, general!"
"Return that knife at once!"
The general expatiated once more on the francs-tireurs of Louvain, and asked me to explain in my papers without fail that the citizens had to thank themselves for what had happened. The sergeant who had taken me to him was ordered to escort me, that I might not have any further trouble with the soldiers in the city.
I started on my return journey to The Netherlands sick to death. The consequences of lying on that wet floor made themselves badly felt, and besides being quite stiff and chilly, my interior was badly out of order.
Many refugees returned to Louvain that morning simply driven by hunger. I myself lived still on the breakfast I had at Maastricht on the previous day, and badly wanted something to eat, but still more a cup of hot coffee, to warm my chilled body. I was able to get the coffee—without milk or sugar—from a peasant along the road, but food was out of the question. Most of the people had nothing left, others saved a piece of bread as hard as a brick for the moment when hunger might drive them to extreme distress. Whatever sums I offered, nothing could be had before I came to Tirlemont, where I was able to buy three eggs.
I had a rather amusing meeting at Tongres, with a Netherland colleague, who was on his way to Louvain.
"Where do you come from?" was his first question.
"From Louvain!"
"Have you been there already? I am going there too. How are things there?"
"Have you got anything for me to eat?" I asked, not heeding his words.
I said it quite innocently, without any other desire beyond that of taking off the edge of my really trying hunger. But the effect of my question was surprising indeed. He looked at me dumbfounded, and asked:
"But where did you stay then during the night?"
"I have been arrested."
"And did you not get anything to eat?"
"No!"
He was back in The Netherlands before me.
Thenext day at Maastricht I tried to cure the evil results of that night on the damp floor in Louvain by eating great quantities of rice and drinking much cocoa with liberal doses of cinnamon, but as it was of no avail, I started again the next morning.
The majority of the refugees returning to Louvain belonged to the lower classes, and they began to loot and plunder the town, encouraged thereto by the German soldiers, who threw the things into the streets, and said: "Take it, if you like!" In extenuation of the looting and plundering I might say that the poor wretches tried before all to get hold of half-burned eatables.
During my first visit I estimated the number of civilian victims at about eighty. This number turned out to be larger, as many during the second fire fled to their cellars, exits of which were however choked up by the collapsing walls. The corpses of numerous suffocated citizens were found in these cellars.
At many monasteries I heard painful details of the treatment suffered by priests. The majority were made prisoners, and many were tied to trees during a whole night and afterwards released. Several were killed. I heard, for example, at theconvent of the Jesuits that a student of theology, Eugène Dupiereux, had been murdered, simply because he was found to have kept a diary of the war in which he had expressed a rather unfavourable opinion about the Germans. In the same manner two Josephite brothers were murdered, who later on were found to be Germans; of other priests who had been killed, the names were not yet known.
Many clerical gentlemen connected with the University had been ill-treated in the most atrocious manner. The architect Lenertz, a native of Luxemburg, also connected with the University, had been shot, for no reason at all, before the eyes of his wife at the moment that he left the house. And Louvain was so effectively cut off from the outer world that in most convents I was asked whether the rumour was true that the Pope was dead! And at that time his successor had already been appointed.
I succeeded in laying my hands on an original copy of a proclamation that ought not to have been posted before the following day. I took the document with me to The Netherlands, and it is of special interest, because in it the Germans admit to have tyrannised the people, and to have not only burned Louvain, but also ransacked the town. The proclamation had been drawn up in concert with the German authorities and was approved by them. It was in French and in Flemish, and read as follows:
"PROCLAMATION"To the inhabitants of the City of Louvain"We have in vain visited our municipal representatives. The last of them, Alderman Schmidt, who was preventedfrom fulfilling his office, surrendered to us the municipal power on August 30th."I believe that it is my duty to take that task upon me, assisted by some well-known burgesses, who have undertaken to stand by me."In agreement with the German Military authority I invite the inhabitants of Louvain to return to the city, and to take up again their usual occupations."The orders issued by Monsieur Collins remain valid."I mention more especially:—"1. That it is prohibited to be out of doors after seven o'clock (Belgian time) in the evening."2. That all who are in possession of any arms, of whatever description, or any munition must at once deliver everything at the town-hall."3. That everything that may appear hostile to the German army must be avoided with the utmost care."The German military authority have promised us that on these conditions no further burning and looting shall take place and that the population shall no longer be threatened or embarrassed."We are engaged now most actively upon the re-establishment of the municipal services: Police, Municipal Register, and the Services of the Canals, which services will all be reopened as soon as possible."The police service will be performed in the daytime by some volunteers, who will wear an armlet in the municipal colours, and an identity card, both officially stamped. Well-minded persons, who are willing to perform these duties, are urgently requested to present themselves at the town-hall to-day at four o'clock in the afternoon."The acting burgomaster,A. Nerincx."The town-clerk,Eug. Marguery."The committee of burgesses!Dr. Boine,PastorClaes,Dr. P. Debaisieux,Dr. Deconinck,Ch. de la Vallée-Poussin,Monseigneur Deploigne,P. Helleputte,A. Thiery,Dr. Tits,L. Verhelst,V. Vingeroedt."Louvain,"September 1st, 1914."
"PROCLAMATION
"To the inhabitants of the City of Louvain
"We have in vain visited our municipal representatives. The last of them, Alderman Schmidt, who was preventedfrom fulfilling his office, surrendered to us the municipal power on August 30th.
"I believe that it is my duty to take that task upon me, assisted by some well-known burgesses, who have undertaken to stand by me.
"In agreement with the German Military authority I invite the inhabitants of Louvain to return to the city, and to take up again their usual occupations.
"The orders issued by Monsieur Collins remain valid.
"I mention more especially:—
"The German military authority have promised us that on these conditions no further burning and looting shall take place and that the population shall no longer be threatened or embarrassed.
"We are engaged now most actively upon the re-establishment of the municipal services: Police, Municipal Register, and the Services of the Canals, which services will all be reopened as soon as possible.
"The police service will be performed in the daytime by some volunteers, who will wear an armlet in the municipal colours, and an identity card, both officially stamped. Well-minded persons, who are willing to perform these duties, are urgently requested to present themselves at the town-hall to-day at four o'clock in the afternoon.
"The acting burgomaster,A. Nerincx.
"The town-clerk,Eug. Marguery.
"The committee of burgesses!Dr. Boine,PastorClaes,Dr. P. Debaisieux,Dr. Deconinck,Ch. de la Vallée-Poussin,Monseigneur Deploigne,P. Helleputte,A. Thiery,Dr. Tits,L. Verhelst,V. Vingeroedt.
"Louvain,"September 1st, 1914."
Pastor Claes, mentioned in the above proclamation, has done very much for the miserable Louvain population; they owe him especially much gratitude for an act of devotion with regard to the murdered victims.
In the immediate neighbourhood of the railway station a house was being built, of which only the foundations were laid. The place showed nothing beyond a huge cavity. I had noticed already several times that there was an atrocious stench near the station, which at last became unendurable. Pastor Claes, who courageously entered all destroyed houses to look for the dead, had discovered the victims also in this place. In the cave just mentioned he found sixteen corpses of burghers, two priests among them. In order to remove them from the street the Germans had simply thrown them into that cave, without covering the corpses in any way. They had been lying there for days, and were decaying rapidly.
I witnessed Pastor Claes's labours for a moment only, for the smell was unbearable even at a somewhat considerable distance. The good pastor persevered in the work after having started it, with the assistance of some faithful helpers, who all of them had sealed their mouths with a sponge soaked in some disinfectant. The corpses were taken from the cave, money and documents put away in separate bags, and the unfortunate owners coffined and blessed.
During the next days I found a hospitable domicile at the convent of the Sacred Heart on the Namur Canal ("Naamsche Vest"). It is a seminary for missionaries, and when I went to them for the firsttime I had a letter from their head, the "provincial" in The Netherlands, who sent the order that all the theological students should be transferred to The Netherlands as quickly as possible. They received me with the greatest kindness, and ever since I enjoyed their hospitality.
A short time after the destruction I was even obliged to accept it for a whole week, as on the same day on which I arrived in Louvain for another visit there was renewed fighting round the town. The Belgians had advanced as far as Rotselair, where the next day they held their ground against overwhelmingly superior numbers; but at last they had to retire, leaving a great many dead behind. The Belgians had even got on to the road Tirlemont-Louvain, and blown up the railway line in two places.
On that occasion the Germans arrested me at about two miles from Tirlemont. Firstly, because I travelled by bicycle, and secondly, because I was accused of having "cooked" one of my passports.
This was so far true that I had altered the dates of a passport, which allowed me to stay in Louvain from September 6th till the 14th, into the 8th and the 16th. When taken to the commanding officer in Tirlemont, I convinced him so thoroughly of my complete innocence, that the next day I was allowed to go on to Louvain.
There the German authorities detained me for a full week, by prohibiting me to return: "for the sake of your own safety," they told me courteously. During the day I was busy enough, and in the evenings I enjoyed the pleasant company of the three fathers of the Sacred Heart who had remained in themission house, and with whose photographic instrument I took many a snapshot of the Louvain ruins.
The mission house had become a sanctuary for a good many people. As bread was lacking, two brothers fried pancakes all day long and distributed them among the numberless persons who asked for food. Among these were people who a few days earlier belonged to the well-to-do, but who saw their business, in which often more than their own capital was invested, wrecked by fire, and were now obliged to appeal to the charity of these monks. Indeed during the first weeks after that terrible event many starved, and I assisted often at the distribution of the pancakes, because they were short-handed.
In this grand old monastery, both inside and out a jewel of architecture, about five hundred people had found shelter. They were lodged in halls, rooms, and kitchens. The fathers gave them everything in the way of food they might require, but they had to do their own cooking. As not one of these people had a home left, which they could call their own, no wonder that they greatly admired the fathers. Often when I strolled about with one of these, one or other of the refugees came to him to press his hand and express gratitude for the hospitality offered.
In this way I got into conversation with a middle-aged lady. Her husband had been shot, and she got a bullet in her arm, which had to be amputated in consequence. The poor creature had lost all courage, and lived on her nerves only. It was remarkable to hear this father find the right words, and succeed in making her calm and resigned.Before she left us, she had promised that for her children's sake she would do all in her power to control herself.
During the week of my compulsory stay in Louvain I had also the privilege of making the acquaintance of two brave compatriots; I mean Professor Noyons and his wife.
They never left Louvain. On August 25th information was sent to the Leo XIII Institution for Philosophy, a building turned into a hospital, that a hundred wounded men might be expected towards evening. That evening began the wild shooting and burning of houses by the Germans, and soon a large number of wounded was taken to the Institution. Suddenly Professor Noyons recognised one of his servants among the wounded who were brought to him for treatment. She had three bullets in her side. After having bandaged her wounds, he hurried away to his house, in order to see what had happened.
He thought that it was sufficiently protected by the immense Red Cross flag, and the words written on the door by the Germans themselves: "Professor Noyons, Netherland physician, to be spared." But he had been mistaken. The soldiers did not respect anything, and had forced an entry into the house, wounded that servant, and then wrecked everything in the most scandalous manner. Beautiful large Japanese jars had been smashed to pieces, valuable furniture damaged by knocking and breaking large pieces out of it with rifles and bayonets. A fine carpet was burned, as well as many pieces of furniture. A hole was burned even in the floor.
Professor Noyons took me over the house and showed me the destruction. Bullets had been lodged in the inner walls after piercing the windows and on a level with the windows. By lengthening the line of trajection one found that the bullets must have been fired at a distance of nearly six hundred yards, which proves that the Germans simply fired at random.
As Professor Noyons heard that other hospitals, churches, and ancient buildings were not spared either, he went to the commanding officer through the rain of bullets, clad in his white overalls, to claim protection for everything that lawfully displayed the Red Cross flag, and to request that churches, convents, ancient buildings, and especially the town-hall should be spared. It is only owing to his intervention that not much more was destroyed in Louvain.
On the Thursday of the week of destruction the inhabitants were notified that they had to leave the town, but Professor Noyons and his wife decided to stay on, as they could not leave the one hundred and fifty wounded men who were laid up at the Institution.
They carried all those patients into the cellars on stretchers, and there waited with the nursing staff for the bombardment that had been announced, but never came off.
Professor Noyons took me all over the hospital, and if I should describe all I saw and heard there, that story alone would fill volumes. He took me, for example, to a boy of eight years old, whose shoulder was shattered by rifle-shots. His father andmother, four little brothers and a sister, had been murdered. The boy himself was saved because they thought that he was dead, whereas he was only unconscious. When I asked for his parents, brothers and sister, he put up his one hand and, counting by his little fingers, he mentioned their names.
There lay also a woman, with one leg amputated. Her husband had been murdered, another bullet had entered the leg of the baby in her arms. Another woman had her child murdered in her arms.
Women and children had frequently been ill-treated in a most atrocious manner, aged and sick people were dragged out of the houses, and flung down in the street. This happened, for example, to an old man, who lay dying in his cellar. In spite of the supplications of his wife and two sons, he was flung on the cobbles, where he died soon. The sons were taken prisoners and sent away. His widow assists at present nursing other unfortunates at Professor Noyons' hospital.
A paralysed woman who had also been flung into the street was nursed at the hospital, and lay with many others in the chapel of the Institution, which had been turned into a ward.
Belgian and German soldiers found excellent nursing here. Many convalescents were allowed to walk in the large garden, which was happily divided by a large wall, so that the one-time combatants could be separated.
Professor and Mrs. Noyons were busy day and night on behalf of their fellow-men, and one could quite well tell by their looks that they were overworked. They took their rest in the kitchen, whichwas built in the basement. All male and female voluntary nurses took their meals there.
Once I enjoyed the pleasure of partaking of such a "dinner," as the guest of Professor and Mrs. Noyons. The company was very mixed, and men who never in their lives had ever done anything else but spoiling their eyes for the sake of science, by reading all manner of ancient manuscripts, were now busy, dressed in a blue apron, stirring the soup and mashing potatoes or vegetables. The menu comprised nothing but potatoes, a little vegetables, and a finely calculated piece of meat.