Part 35

The bombardment of Antwerp lasted from the afternoon that we left up to Friday noon. The damage is pretty evenly distributed. Houses here and there in every street were badly smashed and the whole block across the street from the Hotel St. Antoine, where we stayed, was burned to the ground. The Cathedral was not damaged.

When we were there last week, the streets were thronged with people and with motors. Yesterday there was not a soul to be seen for blocks together. The town was practically deserted.

The garage where I had left my car had been taken over by the military authorities. The car was put away on the second floor undamaged, but also unrepaired, so we shall have to wait until things settle down a little and we can get some work done. I shall have to go back to Antwerp a little later and attend to that. There is some comfort in the fact that the car has not been smashed.

This morning the Committee for the Provisioning of Brussels came in, and asked whether I was prepared to go to London for them and endeavour to arrange for some sort of permanent agreement with the British Government for the provisioning of the civilian population of Belgium. I am willing.

In the course of some errands this afternoon, I dropped in on Baronne Lambert for a cup of tea. The Baron came in and then Villalobar. About two minutes later, Lambert was called out of the room to speak with a German officer, who demanded that he accompany him to headquarters. Villalobar went with him to see what was up, and I stayed behind to see if I could be of any use. We stood by for a little over half an hour, and then when Mme. Lambert could stand it no longer, I jumped in my car and went down to see what was happening. I found Villalobar on the sidewalk, getting into his car. He was depressed and said that he had been obliged to leave the Baron with the Germans; that he was suspected of nobody would say what, and that the Germans were going to search the house. I went back and had them all ready for the shock of the invasion. They were standing by for the search party, when in walked the Baron, smiling broadly. They had sent him home under guard of two armed men, and were to search the house in the course of a few minutes. While he was telling about it, two officers arrived, profusely apologetic, and asked to be shown over the Red Cross hospital, which had been installed on the ground floor. They were taken all through the place, and found only a lot of German soldiers carrying off the beds and other belongings. Then they searched the Baron's private office and that of his son, and withdrew after more excuses.

There was nothing to show for the whole performance, and nothing had been accomplished beyond making a lot of people nervous and apprehensive. That is the sort of thing that everybody is subject to these days, without any hope of redress. And, of course, this was the least serious thing that could happen.

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On board S.S. "Princess Juliana," off Dover, Sunday, October 19, 1914.--Here we are again, coming into England in rain and fog. Up to the last minute, I was in great doubt as to whether we should come at all, but everything was finally straightened out and here we are.

Friday we spent in hard work, aggravated with many conferences. In the morning most of the German civil and military Government came to the Legation and discussed the food question with the members of the Committee, the Spanish Minister and ourselves. They all united in asking that I go to London and lay the situation before the Belgian Minister, the Spanish and American Ambassadors and, under their chaperonage, before the British Government. When this had been agreed to, some bright soul suggested that I be accompanied by a commission of fifteen prominent Belgians, to add impressiveness to what I had to say. The two Ministers rose up and said no, adding that as I was to do the work and bear the responsibility in going on this mission of forlorn hope, I should not be hampered by having to carry the weight of fifteen speech makers. That was knocked in the head, and then to show that we were not unreasonable, we asked that two members of the Committee go along. The men chosen were Baron Lambert and Monsieur Francqui, one of the leading bankers of Brussels and a man of poise and judgment. They expressed reluctance but were soon persuaded.

This morning, during a call at the Political Department, the talk turned on Mexico. I was asked what the President was driving at, and answered that he was clearly trying to give the Mexicans every opportunity to solve their own troubles without interference. I was then asked, rather slyly, whether the President really wanted them to settle their troubles. Without waiting to hear my answer, the oracle went on to tell me what our real policy was as he saw it, and he had no doubts. The President wanted to take Mexico, but was intelligent enough to realise that if he simply seized it, he would forfeit any claim he might have to disinterestedness, and our Anglo-Saxon hypocrisy could not swallow that. Therefore, he was deliberately allowing the Mexicans to drift into a hopeless condition of anarchy, which he knew would get steadily worse, until all the best and most prosperous elements in the country would come to the conclusion that they would be happier and safer under American rule than under the uncertain despotism of changing factions. The President could then yield to their entreaties, and could take over the government of Mexico as a humanitarian service to the people.

I made a feeble attempt to explain what our real feelings were toward Mexico, but it soon became evident that we could not think in the same terms, so I gave up. There was no criticism expressed or implied. On the contrary, there was evidence of real admiration of the President's technique.

The rest of the day was spent in getting ready letters and telegrams and other papers necessary in our work.

Fowler and I dined at the Lambert's, finished up our work at the Legation, and got to bed at midnight. We got up yesterday morning at half-past three, and at half-past four set sail in three motors--one filled with servants and mountains of small baggage.

We sped in the dark through ruined villages to Antwerp, and from there to Esschen on the Dutch frontier, which we reached soon after daylight. We had papers from the Dutch Legation, calling upon the customs authorities to let us pass, but a chuckle-headed douanier would not even read our papers, and held us up for an hour, while he made out papers of various sorts and collected a deposit on our cars. I expostulated in vain, and shall have to get my comfort from making a row later. As a consequence of his cussedness, we missed the morning boat train to Flushing, and had to spend the day in that charming city. We found the place filled with refugees from all parts of Belgium, and were greeted on every hand by people we knew. The hotels were filled to overflowing, and people were living in freight cars, sheds and on the sidewalk. We clung to chairs in the reading room at one of the hotels, and walked the streets until nine o'clock, when we got aboard the boat with eight hundred other people. Cabins were not to be had for love or money, but Francqui, by judicious corruption, got us a place to sleep, and we slept hard, despite the noise, which was tremendous.

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London, October 20, 1914.--Here we are, much cheered up by the prospect.

We hammered hard yesterday and to-day, and this afternoon it looks as though we had secured the permission of the British Government to send food to our people in Belgium.

We got into Folkstone at 4 o'clock on Sunday, were passed immediately by the authorities, and then spent an hour and a half waiting for our train to pull out. We got into darkened London about a quarter of eight. We sat around and visited beyond our usual hours, and yesterday morning I was called ahead of anybody else, so as to get down to my day's work.

First, I got things started at the Embassy, by getting off a lot of telegrams and running away from an office full of people who, in some mysterious way, had heard I was here. I saw several of them, but as my day was going, I up and ran.

First, to Alfred Rothschild's house in Park Lane, where I found Baron Lambert waiting for me. He was beaming, as his son (serving in the Belgian army) had turned up safe and well before leaving to rejoin his regiment in France.

Next I went to the Spanish Embassy, and gave the Ambassador details of what we wanted. He caught the idea immediately, and has done everything in his power.

When I got back to our chancery, I found that the Ambassador had come in, so I went over the whole business again, and made an appointment for a conference with him for the Spanish Ambassador and my travelling companions.

At half-past five we had our conference with the two Ambassadors. They made an appointment with Sir Edward Grey for this afternoon, and went over the situation at some length, to make sure of the details.

In view of its significance this meeting was most impressive to me. It was made up of the two Ambassadors, my two companions, and Herbert Hoover, the man who is going to tackle one of the biggest jobs of the time. He has been studying the situation, the needs of the civil population and the difficulties to be overcome ever since Shaler's arrival several weeks ago. While we could enlighten him in regard to recent developments and matters of detail I was astonished to see how clearly he grasped all the essentials of the situation. He sat still while the rest of us talked but his few remarks were very much to the point, particularly when, in answer to a question, he said very quietly: "Yes, I'll take over the work. I have about finished what I have in hand. Now we can take up this."

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October 21st.--The Belgian Government has sent over Monsieur de Berryer, the Minister of the Interior, to discuss the food question and the equally important money question.

I had an early morning note from the Spanish Ambassador and went around to see him.

London is filled with war spirit; not hysterics, but good determined work. The streets are full of singing recruits marching hither and yon--mostly yon. The army must be growing at a tremendous rate; in fact, faster than equipment can be provided, and they are not slow about that.