Part 8

The occupying powers seized everything they wanted. The entire contents of dry-goods and other ware-shops were requisitioned; food-stores, when not deliberately stolen, were bought up in bulk by the officers, and sent home to their families in Germany. Even the shooting of the game with which the woodlands about Brussels were well stocked was forbidden to all save the army. The Bois and adjacent woods resounded, during the shooting season, with the report of German hunting-pieces destroying partridge and pheasant preserves, and that even on private property; but a young Belgian lad, caught poaching not far from the place where we lived, was shot in the act and left where he fell.

These men with guns cared little for the sufferings of the unarmed and famished people under their control, and found it easier to punish petty opposition to their laws of greed by a bullet than by trial or imprisonment. Their victims were numerous. One boy, whose family I knew, was shot and badly wounded for trying to smuggle from the country two kilos of potatoes, not for sale, but for the needs of his family.

Naturally, such conditions led in time to dishonesty. The people became desperate, and, finding they could secure food by risking their lives, presently developed the idea of gaining fortune by the same means. Reckless of an existence so rife with misery, they became more daring; and then it was that the _accapareurs_ appeared, by whose courage and clever trickery the rich, at least, were provided with edibles that would otherwise have gone to Germany. These petty smugglers (not the great ones, who cornered large quantities of food-stuffs and concealed them against the hour of dearth) were, in a way, a God-send to those who could afford to pay their prices; but their morals suffered further degeneration when greater numbers adopted this scheme for rapid money-making. Their gains, however, were not easily won, as they were obliged to walk many miles during the night in all sorts of weather, to escape the German sentinels who guarded the city limits and took all butter, eggs, potatoes, etc., discovered on the smugglers. The latter concealed their wares most ingeniously, often in a manner not appetizing to reflect upon. Butter was packed about their bodies under their clothing, eggs were securely secreted in their hats, and potatoes were carried in sacks under the women’s skirts and also in their blouses. For the smuggling of grain a complete suit was worn, so arranged with pockets, that the grain was distributed over the entire body. But the cleverest device was that of a man who bribed a German soldier to sit with him on his donkey-cart and, pretending he was under arrest, brought in a thousand francs’ worth of butter and eggs on one journey!

During that winter, when the enemy, menaced by defeat in the west, was planning a new and desperate offensive, unhappy Belgium saw her oppressed and hungry people degenerating into criminals. The better sort remained loyal to their proud standard of honour before all, but the destitute lower classes, physically enervated and morally sickened, came gradually to look with contempt upon principles so cynically ignored by those who governed them.

They saw rich and poor alike robbed with no adequate excuse, saw the country’s wealth carried to Germany merely to enrich their enemies.

Even stud-farms were despoiled of those horses that had been the nation’s pride, such as the _cheval de trait_, bred with care, through many, many generations, to attain a point of perfection unequalled in any other part of the world. Those superb Belgian horses were taken, not for army use, but to be sold in Germany—as was announced later on in a German paper. And not only the young animals, but champion stallions and mares, especially those which were pregnant, were seized in opposition to the appeals of their owners. To these appeals and to the argument that it was understood that the occupying army should take nothing not essential, von Bissing replied that, circumstances being changed, the German Government was no longer bound to respect its agreements: (“Les circonstances s’étant modifiées le gouvernement allemand n’était plus en mesure de respecter ses engagements”). The “circumstances” amounted to this—that Germany had the country helplessly in her grip, and, foreseeing final victory, could fearlessly throw more “scraps of paper” into the face of her hapless victim!

A German bank commissary, an officer, entered the business house of a prominent Brussels firm and desired information concerning certain transactions. After an hour or two of investigation, he withdrew, saying he would return presently to complete his work. Inadvertently he left his portfolio behind, and the temptation to look into it was not resisted by those who thus had a chance to learn something of Germany’s secret devices regarding Belgium. On examining its contents, they found a list of all the foremost business associations in Brussels, with exact details as to their management, financial standing, and relations with the outside world; also the director of each was mentioned by name and estimated in regard to his influence and worth.

The important foreign interests of the firm in question were set forth, accompanied by a statement that it would be greatly to Germany’s advantage to obtain control of the organization.

This was told me by one of the firm’s head managers, who added: “It goes without saying we made good use of this chance enlightenment in order to foil German designs.”

These intrusions into business houses were of daily occurrence, but, in some cases, clever foresight rendered them of little avail to the subtle intriguers.

In one instance, that of the Public Utilities Company, “La Financière,” sixty-five million francs’ worth of Allied securities (the major part of which were owned by British subjects) were saved by the general manager’s sagacity. At the beginning of 1915, two German officers, accompanied by twelve armed men, entered “La Financière” building in quest of these securities, which they had been informed, through some unknown source, were preserved there. The soldiers were posted in all corridors to prevent any attempt to escape the seizure by employés passing from one office room to another—a trick resorted to by others on more than one occasion of perquisition! The general manager, Mr. D. Heineman, an American, was then called, and bidden by the officers to submit his books and vaults for examination. This he did without the least hesitancy, having already—in anticipation of such a visit—altered his books and removed the securities to a vault, in the same building, sufficiently camouflaged to defy detection.

When the officers failed to find any trace of the desired deposits they expressed surprise, and affirmed they had learned, on good authority, such securities were held by the house. Mr. Heineman replied the information was quite correct, but, as could be seen by his books, the securities had been removed from Belgium at a certain prior date.

Meanwhile dishonesty increased in the lower ranks. Even those employed in the food organization filched sugar, rice, flour, etc., which they sold secretly at enormous prices. Certain personal experiences may illustrate the crafty ingenuity which prolonged sorrow and deprivation gradually developed among the common people—occasionally, too, among those of the better class, obliged for the first time in their lives to suffer the degrading pangs of want.

Fruit, although there was plenty in the country, was shipped away in such quantities that the inhabitants could only indulge in it as an expensive luxury. One day, when I discovered a pushcart piled high with nice-looking apples, at a price far lower than that demanded at the market, I ordered five kilos to be taken home and paid for on delivery. The youth who, with his mother, tended the cart agreed to deliver them if his tram fare were paid in advance. As he had some distance to go, this was willingly done, and a written line given him for our butler, bidding him pay for the fruit at the stated price. I then went on to visit a friend, who, on learning of the apples, immediately wanted some and we set forth to revisit the cart.

We had, however, gone only a few yards, when I was astonished to see the pushcart, attended by both the youth and his mother, standing before a house a few doors below that of my friend, where they were selling fruit.

“What does this mean?” I asked the youth. “You have not taken the apples to my house!”

The young rascal, who had counted on never seeing me again, hung his head, and murmured with seeming penitence, “Ah, I beg your pardon, but it was so far to go, and I could not leave my poor mother to push the cart alone.”

Although the best of the apples were now sold—for all save those on top were miserable things—we each ordered five kilos of the fruit to be delivered at my friend’s house. To obviate any more trickery we remained by the cart while this was done, and only paid after seeing the apples taken in by a servant; then went on to enjoy an unusually lovely afternoon in the Bois, sure of having made a good enough bargain, even though the fruit secured was only fit for cooking.

But my friend, on returning home an hour or so later, discovered we had been worsted after all!

After waiting until we were out of sight, the fruit-sellers went back to the house, and, presenting the pencilled line I had given and failed to reclaim, stated that we had decided to purchase all the remaining apples, at the price mentioned in the note. Consequently, twenty odd kilos of remnant fruit, such as no one else would buy, were landed at my friend’s house at a price more than double their worth!

On another occasion, when butter was unprocurable even at thirty francs a kilo, two peasant-women came to our house with butter smuggled in from the country, which they offered at twenty francs a kilo. Eager as we were for it, but made cautious by experience, we insisted upon tasting before buying. The women readily opened one package, and, on finding it excellent, we agreed to take all they had—five kilos; but, to prevent possible deception, we sampled each package, all of which were equally good. We therefore joyously paid the price, and, after contracting for more butter, and a quantity of eggs to be delivered the following week, dismissed the women with our blessings and sincere gratitude.

But, alackaday! when those glorious loaves of yellow butter were being prepared an hour later for preservation, they were discovered to be merely masses of filthy fat surrounding a large _betterave_, which made up the weight, the whole cleverly covered with a thin layer of good butter. Needless to say, the women never returned, and as it was strictly forbidden to buy peddled butter, we could do nothing but grin and bear it.

These fraudulent geniuses were products of the war, and no one who witnessed the pain they bravely endured, for three years and more, can justly condemn them.

And it was not only the poor who were driven to desperation by the enemy’s robbery. Everyone, save the very rich, or the _Barons Zeep_—the so-called soap-barons who made fortunes in secret relation with the Germans—was reduced to hard straits. Clothing became impossible to procure. Fashionable women were obliged to dye their linen sheets for summer wear, their blankets and curtains for winter; while club-men, in shiny trousers and frayed cuffs, were wont to exchange laughing comparisons as to the condition of their other wearing apparel, one likening his oft-patched pyjamas to Jacob’s coat of many colours!

A pathetic instance of this dire need came to my notice one day as I was trying to coax a farmer in the open fields to sell me potatoes—for there was no other means of obtaining this article of food save by buying surreptitiously, smuggling it home under cover of night, and burying it underground.

While I was talking to the farmer, an elderly man slowly passed us—a man evidently of good birth, whose clothes, though worn and shabby, showed the cut of a good tailor. Soon after he had passed, the farmer abruptly checked what he was saying to me and, with sullen eyes directed toward another part of his acres, muttered, “Look at that! They are all thieves, even the aristocrats!”

I looked, and saw the man referred to tugging frantically to uproot a _carrot_!

The farmer uttered a loud and angry cry, which interrupted his efforts. He rose without haste, and moved slowly away, his stick held dejectedly behind him.

X

As may be seen, existence did not improve with time. Each month the situation became darker and more alarming; and, after the United States declared war, the few Americans, we among them, obliged to remain in Brussels were hated by the occupying powers quite as cordially as the English. But we who represented a nation not only mighty in wealth and man-power, but of vast commercial importance to Germany, were treated with far greater consideration than the Belgians. Nevertheless, after the United States Minister, Consul, and entire diplomatic corps departed, we felt more or less at the mercy of that bullying tendency which power always brings out in the Prussian military character.

The United States Consul, Mr. Ethelbert Watts—a man known for his tactful handling of difficult situations and trained in diplomacy by many years of service in the greater capitals—told me an instance of this characteristic.

It was at the beginning of the third year of war. Among the forlorn creatures he took under his protection was a young lad below military age, a Belgian on the paternal side, whose mother, a widow American-born, was then in the States. The lad and his sister had been left in Brussels to await her return, but as she was unable to do so, the two were soon reduced to deplorable straits. The sister found a home through marriage, but no other improvement of circumstances. The boy was taken into the consulate to assure him some means of support, besides what the Consul personally allowed him. But when the Germans began to seize young civilians, and send them to work in the trenches or in Germany, the boy’s mother sent heart-broken appeals to have her son, delicate and wholly unfit for such labour, shipped on to join her. Although this appeared hopeless, the Consul, as representative of a country still neutral, did his best to accomplish it. After much labour and long argument he succeeded; the youth received a pass, and was ready to leave on a certain date.

The evening before his departure for Holland, the Consul received a hastily-scrawled note from the lad, stating that he had been arrested, and was then locked up, he knew not why. It was too late to do anything that evening, but the following morning the Consul went to German headquarters to obtain an explanation.

He was received by a stout, red-faced superior officer, who at first refused to answer questions, but finally announced that the boy was suspected of espionage.

“May I ask upon what ground?” the Consul demanded politely.

“Upon several suspicious indications,” was the evasive reply; “he must be held for further examination.”

“But his passage to America is booked for the day after to-morrow,” urged the Consul. “He must leave Brussels to-day if he is to catch the ship.”

The other shrugged, saying indifferently, “I regret that is impossible.”

“But his pass has been given him, sir, and as I have personally vouched for his integrity, I consider it only fair you should tell me on what ’suspicious indications’ you hold him.”

After a lengthy and needless discussion, it was asserted that the boy’s notebook betrayed he had carried letters, and delivered them to several persons in the city.

At this Mr. Watts looked amazed. “Certainly,” he retorted; “he was in my employ for that purpose, and I can prove to you that every letter he conveyed related to legitimate consular business.”

After some more wrangling the notebook was produced, and this proven to be true, but the stubborn tyrant showed no sign of yielding. The proof could not be held as satisfactory until investigated. And so forth and so forth, until, after another half-hour of futile talk, the officer suddenly announced that the boy could on no condition be liberated without the payment of a fine.

“It will be a matter of two thousand francs or so,” he complacently added, confident of adding this amount to sums extorted daily from the inhabitants on one pretence or another. “Of course, as the boy has no means, payment may be made by anyone who....”

There he was abruptly stopped, for the American’s rage, already at boiling-point, could no longer be controlled. Although a less robust and considerably older man, the Consul sprang aggressively to his feet.

“Not one centime shall be paid!” he cried, shaking a defiant finger under the officer’s very nose; “and if that boy is not liberated to-day, my Government shall hear of the matter in every detail by cable!”

His face was white, and the flame in his eyes drove some red from the Prussian’s face. The latter’s tactics immediately changed. “Come, come, sir; no need to lose your temper,” he remonstrated, in a voice now devoid of its former dictatorial tone. “Let us talk it over quietly; perhaps we may....”

“No,” interrupted the Consul. “I have talked for over an hour, and have said all I have to say. This is my last word on the subject—good morning!”

As it was then luncheon-time, he returned to his residence, scarcely hoping for a satisfactory settlement of the matter, but determined, should it be denied, to carry out his threat.

This proved unnecessary, for, on going to his office an hour or so later, he found the boy there to greet him, and sent him off to Holland that evening.

This incident serves to show the mental attitude of the powers then dominating Belgium, and also explains the consideration, comparatively speaking, shown to Americans. Belgium was at their mercy, and, owing to sufferings inflicted, more or less outwardly submissive, since those who betrayed the least resistance were cast into prison with no hope of being avenged, at any definite period, by their exiled Government. It also demonstrates that worst of all the evil qualities developed by militarism in the German who wore a uniform—the readiness to crush the weak and to respect firm and fearless defiance in the strong. This quality, manifested even in peace-time—among the police, for instance, and other officials in Berlin—is peculiarly galling to foreigners.

In October 1917 another copper raid took place, and our homes were again subjected to armed invasion. We were now ordered to deliver the beds we slept on, if brass, our chandeliers, bathroom fittings, and all ornamentation in brass or copper with which our houses were embellished—to dismount and convey them to the enemy without a murmur. This, after all kitchen-utensils and many other necessaries had already been claimed! And, strangest of all, while this robbery of private houses was going on, many shops in the city remained well stocked with all manner of things, in brass and copper, which, being new and marketable, were left for a later seizure, to be shipped to Germany for sale!

Machinery of all sorts was also taken; the before-mentioned steel manufacturer of Bruges told me how he was robbed of a vast and very valuable plant, of which some important portions had been purchased in Germany just before the war. Military engineers came to look over the place, noted down the more valuable fittings, and informed him that men would come to dismount them the following day. They arrived as predicted, and their chief was the very man originally sent to set them up by the German firm who had sold our friend the machines! A week or two later another representative of this same firm had the audacity to present himself before the ruined manufacturer and try to negotiate with him for the purchase of new machinery after the war!

It may be the recognized right of an occupying army to demand what it urgently needs and cannot otherwise procure, but in Belgium there was no question of right or need; everything was taken, not only copper and machinery, but silverware, clothing, and articles of artistic worth, which could be of no possible use to the army; and, from Bruges and other places, many priceless paintings, and other treasures of artistic and historical value.

An explanation of this latter feature of the general and systematic looting was given rather dramatically by one of the German soldiers engaged in rifling a house. It was witnessed by a friend of mine. The house adjoined that of my friend, and he, expecting his turn would come next, watched to learn what he must hide while all sorts of metal objects were brought forth and hurled into a van waiting to receive them.

Presently one of the soldiers, acting according to orders, came out bearing a silver tray, on which was an exquisite tea-set of the same metal. He carried it with care toward the van, paused, and examined it pensively. Then, after brief deliberation, he set it down on the pavement, took two of the shining objects, a teapot and cream-jug, and savagely beat them together until no vestige of their fair form remained. After throwing these into the van, he did the same by the others, and finally trod on the tray, destroying it with his heavy, iron-nailed boots. A second soldier, coming laden from the house, paused to watch him in amazement.

“What are you doing that for?” he asked.

The other, taking up the mutilated tray, glanced at him with flaming eyes.

“There’s no need for the officers to have these pretty things!” he growled, and tossed it into the van.

Another man, Monsieur de R., told me the following interesting experience:

His country house, stocked with things of beauty and value, accumulated during many years of travel, was occupied and pillaged when the German army, drunk with the temporary success of their first onslaught, were pursuing bandit methods through the country. Everything was taken: pictures and other almost priceless works of art, silver, glass-ware, even linen and clothing. What could not be removed was cut through with swords or otherwise destroyed, and the château, after sheltering troops for some time, left in a deplorable state of wreckage and filth. The park was damaged by horses, and many of the fine old trees cut down for firewood. Monsieur de R. bore the loss with that amazing stoic endurance manifested throughout by the Belgians. His only remark at the time was: “It is sad; but—_que voulez-vous_? We are at their mercy, and they have neither mercy nor conscience!”

But that all Germans are not devoid of these qualities, he had, a few weeks later rather astounding proof.

One day the card of a lady whom he did not know was presented to him at his Brussels residence, accompanied by a request to speak with him privately upon an urgent matter. As the name was German, he hesitated; but curiosity impelled him to receive the mysterious visitor. She proved to be a young and refined woman, very shy, and evidently greatly agitated.

After returning his cold bow she came to the point at once: “I have come to tell you, Monsieur, that many of the things taken from your château were sent on to me in Germany.”

“_Vraiment?_” he replied, with a scarcely perceptible smile of ironic wonderment.

“Yes; they were sent to me by my fiancé, the officer who—obtained them from your house.” Her lips trembled as she sought for a less objectionable word than “stole” to express the deed. “I am having them all returned to you—every item. They have not even been unpacked.”

“Ah!” The Belgian stared, unable to imagine the object of this astounding statement from one of a race he believed devoid of honour.