The Queen came in quietly from one side and took a throne to the left of the tribune, after acknowledging a roaring welcome from the members of the two Houses. When the cheering had subsided, the King walked in alone from the right, bowed gravely to the assembly and walked quickly to the dais above and behind the tribune. With a business-like gesture he tossed his cap on to the ledge before him and threw his white cotton gloves into it—then drew out his speech and read it. At first his voice was not very steady but he soon controlled it and read the speech to the end in a voice that was vibrating with emotion but without any oratory or heroics. He went straight to the vital need for union between all factions and all parties, between the French, Flemish, and Walloon races, between Catholics, Liberals, and Socialists in a determined resistance to the attack upon Belgian independence. The House could contain itself for only a few minutes at a time, and as every point was driven home they burst into frantic cheering. When the King, addressing himself directly to the members of Parliament, said, "Are you determined at any cost to maintain the sacred heritage of our ancestors?" the whole Chamber burst into a roar, and from the Socialists' side came cries of: "At any cost, by death if need be."
It was simple and to the point—a manly speech. And as he delivered it he was a kingly figure, facing for the sake of honour what he knew to be the gravest danger that could ever come to his country and his people. When he had finished he bowed to the Queen, then to the Parliament, and then walked quickly out of the room, while the assembly roared again. The Senators and Deputies swarmed about the King on his way out, cheering and trying to shake him by the hand—and none were more at pains to voice their devotion than the Socialists.
After he had gone the Queen rose, bowed shyly to the assembly, and withdrew with the royal children. She was given a rousing ovation as everybody realised the difficulty of her position and was doubly anxious to show her all their confidence and affection. The whole occasion was moving, but when the little Queen acknowledged the ovation so shyly and so sadly and withdrew, the tears were pretty near the surface—my surface at any rate.
| Facsimile of the first page of the German ultimatum to Belgium[a] | Pass issued by the Belgian military authorities to enable Mr. Gibson to enter the German Legation at Brussels |
| Maître Gaston de Leval, legal adviser to the American Legation in Brussels |
For several minutes after the Queen withdrew the cheering continued. Suddenly a tense silence fell upon the room. M. de Broqueville, the Prime Minister, had mounted the tribune and stood waiting for attention. He was clearly under great stress of emotion, and as the House settled itself to hear him he brushed away the tears that had started to his eyes. He began in a very direct way by saying that he would limit himself to reading a few documents and hoped that, after hearing them, the House would consider the Government worthy of the confidence that had been reposed in it and that immediate action would be taken upon matters of urgent importance. He first read the German ultimatum,[1] which was received quietly but with indignation and anger which was with difficulty suppressed. Without commenting upon the German note, he then read the reply which had been handed to the German Minister.[2] This was followed by a final note delivered by the German Minister this morning stating "that in view of the refusal of the King to accede to the well-intentioned proposals of the Emperor, the Imperial Government, greatly to its regret, was obliged to carry out by force of arms the measures indispensable to its security." After reading these documents he made a short and ringing speech, full of fire, which was repeatedly interrupted by cheers. When he came down from the tribune he was surrounded by cheering Senators and Deputies struggling to shake his hand and express their approval of his speech. Even the Socialists who had fought him for years rose to the occasion and vied with their colleagues in their demonstrations of enthusiasm. Broqueville rose again and said: "In the present crisis we have received from the opposition a whole-hearted support; they have rallied to our side in the most impressive way in preparing the reply to Germany. In order to emphasise this union of all factions, His Majesty the King has just signed a decree appointing Monsieur Vandervelde as a Minister of State." This announcement was greeted by roars of applause from all parts of the House, and Vandervelde was immediately surrounded by Ministers and Deputies anxious to congratulate him. His reply to the Prime Minister's speech was merely a shout above the roar of applause: "I accept."
As we came out, some of the colleagues were gathered about debating whether they should go over to the Palace and ask to take leave of the King. They were saved that labour, however, for the King had stepped into a motor at the door and was already speeding to the General Headquarters which has been set up nobody knows where. That looks like business.
When I got back to the Legation I found von Stumm, Counselor of the German Legation, with the news that his chief had received his passports and must leave at once. He had come to ask that the American Minister take over the care of the German Legation and the protection of the German subjects who had not yet left the country. I said that we could not undertake anything of that sort without authority from Washington, and got the Minister to telegraph for it when he came in from some hurried visits he had made in search of news.
While we were snatching some lunch, von Stumm came back with the German Minister, von Below, and said that some provisional arrangement must be made at once as the staff of the Legation would have to leave for the Dutch frontier in the course of the afternoon—long before we could hope for an answer from Washington. We did not like the idea of doing that sort of thing without the knowledge of Washington, but finally agreed to accept the charge provisionally on grounds of humanity, until such time as we should receive specific instructions as to who would be definitely entrusted with the protection of German interests. In case of need, we shall be asked to take over certain other Legations and shall have our hands more than full.
At five o'clock we went over to the German Legation, which we found surrounded by a heavy detachment of Garde Civique as a measure of protection against violence. We drew up, signed, and sealed a protocol accepting what is known as la garde des clefs et des sceaux, until such time as definite arrangements might be made. The Minister and von Stumm were nearly unstrung. They had been under a great strain for some days and were making no effort to get their belongings together to take them away. They sat on the edge of their chairs, mopped their brows and smoked cigarettes as fast as they could light one from another. I was given a lot of final instructions about things to be done—and all with the statement that they should be done at once, as the German army would doubtless be in Brussels in three days. While we were talking, the chancellor of the Legation, Hofrat Grabowsky, a typical white-haired German functionary, was pottering about with sealing wax and strips of paper, sealing the archives and answering questions in a deliberate and perfectly calm way. It was for all the world like a scene in a play. The shaded room, the two nervous diplomats registering anxiety and strain, the old functionary who was to stay behind to guard the archives and refused to be moved from his calm by the approaching cataclysm. It seemed altogether unreal, and I had to keep bringing myself back to a realisation of the fact that it was only too true and too serious.