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Part 40

A Journal From Our Legation in Belgium · Hugh Gibson — chapter 40 of 47 · ~1,950 words · public domain

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Brussels, November 16, 1914.--Some more excitement yesterday morning, when various British subjects were arrested.

Two German civilians tried to force their way into the British Consulate and arrest Mr. Jeffes, the British Consul, and his son, although the American flag was flying over the door and there was a sign posted to the effect that the place was under our protection and all business should be transacted with us. Fortunately Nasmith was there, and after trying to explain the matter politely, he made for the two men, threw them into the street, and bolted the door. The gum-shoe men were so surprised that they went away and have not been back. Last night I was called around to the Consulate and found two more men shadowing the place. There seemed to be no danger of arrest, but Nasmith spent the night there, and this morning I went around and took the Jeffes to our Consulate, so that if any attempt was made to take them, we should have an opportunity to protest. The higher authorities had promised not to seize them, but apparently you can never tell.

Yesterday was the King's Saint's Day, and word was passed around that there would be a special mass at Ste. Gudule. Just before it was to begin, the military authorities sent around and forbade the service. The Grand Marshal of the Court opened the King's book at his house, so that we could all go around and sign, as in ordinary times, for we are accredited to the King of the Belgians, but early in the morning an officer arrived and confiscated the book. The Government of Occupation seems to be mighty busy doing pin-head things for people who have a war on their hands.

Countess de Buisseret's little boy was playing on the street yesterday when the German troops passed by. Being a frightful and dangerous criminal, he imitated their goose-step and was arrested. M. de Leval went around to headquarters to see what could be done, supposing, of course, that when it was seen what a child he was, his release would be ordered. Instead, he was told seriously that the youngster must be punished and would be left in jail for some days.

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Brussels, November 18, 1914.--This is another day of disgust. This morning one of the servants of the Golf Club came in to say that there were fifty German soldiers looting the place. In the afternoon Jack and I went out for a look at the place and to get my clubs. We found a lot of soldiers under command of a corporal. They had cleaned the place out of food, wine, linen, silver, and goodness knows what else. Florimont, the steward, had been arrested because he would not tell them which of the English members of the club had gone away and where the others were staying. Having spent his time at the club, the fact was that he did not know who was still in town and could not tell, but the Germans could not be convinced of this and have made him prisoner.

I stopped at headquarters this afternoon to see von der Lancken. As I came out a fine Rolls-Royce limousine drew up on the opposite side of the street--a military car. The chauffeur, in backing out, caught and tore the sleeve of his coat. In a rage, he slammed the door and planted a tremendous kick in the middle of the panel with his heavy boot. I stood agape and watched. He looked up, caught me looking at him, and turned his anger from the motor to me. He put his hands on his hips, shot out his jaw and glared at me. Then he began walking toward me across the street in heavy-villain steps, glaring all the time. He stopped just in front of me, his face twitching with rage, evidently ready to do something cataclysmic. Then the heavens opened, and a tremendous roar came from across the street. The officer to whom the car belonged had seen the display of temper from his window, and had run out to express his views. The soldier did a Genee toe-spin and stood at attention, while his superior cursed him in the most stupendous way. I was glad to be saved and to have such a display of fireworks into the bargain.

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November 19th.--One day is like another in its cussedness.

The Germans have been hounding the British Legation and Consulate, and we have had to get excited about it. Then they announced to the Dutch Charge that our courier could no longer go--that everything would have to be sent by German field post. You would think that after the amount of hard work we have done for the protection of German interests and the scrupulous way in which we have used any privileges we have been accorded, they would exert themselves to make our task as easy as possible and show us some confidence. On the contrary, they treat us as we would be ashamed to treat our enemies.

This morning it was snowing beautifully when I woke up, a light, dry snow that lay on the ground. It has been coming down gently all day and the town is a lovely sight, but I can't get out of my mind the thought of those poor beggars out in the trenches. It seems wicked to be comfortable before a good fire with those millions of men suffering as they are out at the front.

And now Grant-Watson has been put in prison. He stayed on here after the Minister left, to attend to various matters, and was here when the Germans arrived. Recently we have been trying to arrange for passports, so that he and Felix Jeffes, the Vice-Consul, might return to England. The authorities were seemingly unable to make up their minds as to what should be done, but assured the Minister that both men would be allowed to return to England or to remain quietly in Brussels. On Friday, however, the Germans changed their minds and did not let a little thing like their word of honour stand in the way.

The Minister was asked to bring Grant-Watson to headquarters to talk things over--nothing more. When they got there, it was smilingly announced that Grant-Watson was to leave for Berlin on the seven o'clock train, which put us in the position of having lured him to prison. The Minister protested vigorously, and finally Grant-Watson was put on parole and allowed to return to the Legation, to remain there until eleven o'clock yesterday morning. I went over the first thing in the morning to help him get ready for his stay in jail. At eleven Conrad arrived in a motor with Monsieur de Leval. We went out and got in, and drove in state to the Ecole Militaire, and, although I was boiling with rage at the entire performance, I could not help seeing some fun in it.

Grant-Watson's butler was ordered to be ready to go at the same time. At the last minute the butler came down and said perfectly seriously that he would not be able to go until afternoon, as he had broken the key to his portmanteau and would have to have another made. The Germans did not see anything funny in that, and left him behind.

When we got to the Ecole Militaire, we were refused admittance, and had to wrangle with the sentries at the door. After arguing with several officers and pleading that we had a man with us who wanted to be put in prison, we were reluctantly admitted to the outer gate of the building, where British subjects are kept. When the keeper of the dungeon came out, I explained to him that the butler had been detained, but would be along in the course of the afternoon, whereupon the solemn jailer earnestly replied, "Please tell him that he must be here not later than three o'clock, or he can't get in!" And nobody cracked a smile until I let my feelings get the better of me.

I was prepared for an affecting parting with Grant-Watson in consigning him to the depths of a German jail, but he took it as calmly as though he were going into a country house for a week-end party. I suppose there is some chance that they may exchange him for a few wounded German officers and thus get him back to England.

Since our snow-storm the other day, the weather has turned terribly cold and we have suffered even with all the comforts that we have. And the cheerful weather prophets are telling us that without doubt this will be one of the coldest winters ever known. A pleasant prospect for the boys at the front! Mrs. Whitlock and everybody else is busy getting warm clothing for the poor and for the refugees from all parts of Belgium who were unable to save anything from their ruined homes. It is bad enough now, but what is coming....

Gustave has just come in with the cheering news that Ashley, our crack stenographer, has been arrested by the Germans. They are making themselves altogether charming and agreeable to us.

Max is spread out before the fire, snoring like a sawmill--the only Englishman in Brussels who is easy in his mind and need not worry.

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Tuesday, November 24th.--Another day of rush without getting very far.

The Germans decided this morning that they would arrest Felix Jeffes, the British Vice-Consul, so I had the pleasant task of telling him that he was wanted. I am to go for him to-morrow morning and take him to the Ecole Militaire with his compatriots. This job of policeman does not appeal to me, even if it is solely to save our friends the humiliation of being taken through the streets by the Germans.

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November 25th.--Had a pleasant day.

Had arrangements made with Jeffes to go with him to the Ecole Militaire at 11 o'clock and turn him over to his jailer. The Minister went up with von der Lancken to see the Englishmen and be there when Jeffes arrived, so as to show a friendly interest in his being well treated.

I went around to the Consulate on time, and found that, through a misunderstanding, Jeffes had made no preparations for going, having been assured that another attempt would be made to get him off. I pointed out that the Minister had given his word of honour that Jeffes should be there, and that he would be left in a very unpleasant and annoying position if we did not turn up as promised. Jeffes was perfectly ready, although not willing to go. I went to the Ecole Militaire and explained to von der Lancken that Jeffes' failure to appear was due to a mistake, and asked that he be given time to straighten out his accounts and come later in the day or to-morrow morning. The answer was that he must come some time during the day. The Consul-General went straight to von Luettwitz with Jeffes, made a great plea on the score of his health or lack of it, and got his time extended until he could be given a medical examination by the military authorities. Late in the afternoon he was looked over and told to go home and be quiet, that he would probably not be wanted, but that if anything came up, they would communicate with him further.

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