Count and Countess de X had an interesting story to tell of their experiences when the first armies went through. When the war broke out they were at their château and were caught by the first onrush of troops. Their fine cellars were emptied for the benefit of the invader, but nothing more serious happened to them until the second wave came along. Then there was a demand for more wine. As all the wine had been carried away they could not comply. The Germans were convinced that they were being fooled, and searched the place very carefully. Finally they imprisoned the X's for three days in the cellar and then brought them forth and stood them up before a firing squad and threatened to shoot them unless they told where the wine was hidden. At the critical moment a big gray military car rolled up, and to their considerable relief they saw that one of the occupants was a German princeling, who had formerly been their guest on several occasions. They called out to him, and by his orders were immediately released. After expressing their thanks to him they went into the château to find that soldiers were engaged in packing up their fine collections of enamels and porcelains to ship them to Germany. Another appeal to the Prince, who was most sympathetic. He was a practical and resourceful man, and said:
"Of course I'll stop this, but you will understand that our men would like to keep some little souvenir of the war in Belgium. That would be hard to prevent. But I would suggest that you pick out all the pieces that you value most and pack them away in that large wardrobe. Then I'll do the rest."
Madame de X was, of course, delighted with this, and scurried about gathering together the finest pieces and packing them carefully into the big wardrobe. She kept it up as long as there was a nook or cranny where odd pieces could be put, and then reported progress to the Prince.
"Are you sure that all the best pieces are there?" says he.
"All that could be packed there," answers Madame de X.
"Good," says the Prince, and then turning to his orderly: "Have that wardrobe sent to Berlin for me."
The way the German army cleaned out the wine of the country was a revelation to everybody. They would not take what they needed for the day's drinking but would clear out whole cellars at a time and load what was not drunk onto carts to be carried away. The result was that people who had a little warning had recourse to all sorts of ingenious tricks to save some of their store. There was one bright man in the province of Namur who removed his stock of wine—all except a few thousand bottles of new wine—and deposited them in the ornamental pond near his château. The Germans arrived a few hours afterward and raised a great fog because they were not satisfied with the amount of wine they found. The owner of the château had discreetly slipped away to Brussels and they could not do anything to him. However, they tapped all the walls for secret hiding places and went over the park to see if anything had been buried—all in vain. The next morning, however, the pond was covered with labels which had soaked off and floated to the surface, and after draining the pond the whole stock was carted away.
Madame B——, who was there, has an interesting souvenir which she proposes to keep if possible. During the first days of the war her château was occupied by a lot of officers, who got gloriously drunk and smashed up pretty well everything in the drawing-room and dining-room. One of them, with a fine sense of humour, took a piece of hard chalk and wrote on the top of her piano in large letters: Deutschland über alles! The crowd left the place in the morning without trying to cover their traces, and Madame B—— came in to put things to rights. The first thing she did was to get a large piece of plate glass to cover the top of the piano so that the legend would not be effaced, and over that she placed an ordinary piano cover so that no future visitor would be inclined to erase the inscription. When the war is over this will be an interesting reminder of her visitors.
This morning I was ready to start for Antwerp. My laisser-passer had been promised for ten o'clock. When it did not come by that hour, I went up to see Baron von der Lancken who had agreed to attend to the matter. He received me most graciously, told me how delighted he was to see me, how it pleased him to see that we came to him with our little troubles, etc. He kept off the subject of the laisser-passer as long as he could, but when he could stave it off no longer he said that he must ask me to see von Herwarth, who had been placed in charge of all matters regarding passports, etc. I made a blue streak over to Herwarth's office, and saw him after a little delay. He kept me as long as he could, and told me all that he knew about the war and perhaps a great deal more. When we got down to the subject of my visit he said that von der Lancken was mistaken, that passports could be granted only by Colonel von Claer who had his office about a block away. I began to smell a rat about this time, but kept plugging away. I spent an hour and a quarter in the antechamber of the Colonel, being unable to get to him or to any of his officers. It was all part of a game. Both von der Lancken and Herwarth harped upon the danger of the trip to Antwerp, advised against it and told how terribly they would feel if anything were to happen to me. I asked each of them point blank if they contemplated an attack while I was there. They both avoided the subject, but said that with the situation as it was now it was impossible to tell from one moment to another what might happen. I saw that they were undecided about what was going to happen next, and that until they did know they did not intend to let me go. They naturally do not wish to have anything happen to me or anyone else connected with the Legation, so I feel entirely safe about going.
After lunch I went back to the siege and stayed until my friend, the Colonel, left by the fire-escape or some equally desperate way so as to avoid seeing me.