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.
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.