And it was so completely taken for granted that there is nothing but a murmur of assent.
Another strenuous day on the food question and other things.
My plans were to leave for Brussels on Monday morning, but in the evening the Ambassador sent for me and it was decided that I should go to Havre and from there to see the King and Queen. That will take me to within a couple of hours from Brussels, according to old calculations, but under present conditions I shall have to get there by way of France, England and Holland.
Hôtel des Régates, Havre, October 26, 1914.—This is the third town where I have paid my respects to the Belgian Government. I would gladly have foregone the experience, for it is depressing.
I left Waterloo station at 9:15 last night. Instead of the usual two-hour run to Southampton, we puttered along and did not arrive until after one. I had a compartment and made myself as comfortable as possible. When we arrived I found poor Colonel Swalm, the Consul, waiting for me. The Ambassador had telegraphed him to see me off, and he did so regardless of the hour. I felt horribly guilty to have him waiting about for me, but it certainly did make things a lot easier.
I got straight to bed, but had a hard time sleeping, as there was a tremendous racket of loading all night long. Nearly all the passengers were British officers on their way to the front. Among the others I found de Bassompierre of the Foreign Office, and a Mr. and Mrs. W——, who were coming over with a Rolls-Royce, to be presented to the Belgian General Staff. If I go to the front, he will take me. We sailed at daybreak and were here by two o'clock. Our Consul, Osborne, was waiting for me at the dock with Henry Needham, the correspondent of Colliers. I was let straight through the customs, where a woman marked my bag, and then came to this hotel overlooking the sea.
This was the first thing we saw as we came into the harbour. It is in a suburb called Nice Havrais, built by old Dufayel of Paris. It was a curious and pathetic sensation to see the Belgian flags still flying bravely. The different Ministries are set up here, and one villa has been set aside for the King and Queen, who have not yet left Belgian soil. The Legations are all established in this hotel and are bored to extinction, as their work has dropped very much. This little suburb enjoys all the privileges of extraterritoriality, and even the French Minister to Belgium goes through the motions of being accredited to a foreign Government in his country. The cars of the various Legations go buzzing around among the French and Belgian and British cars. The streets are full of troops of the three nations, while some twenty transports ride at anchor in the open roadstead. Fresh troops from England are arriving constantly, and march singing through the town to the camps outside, whence they are sent to the front. There are two British hospitals near this hotel—one of them the Casino—and wounded are everywhere. The place is astonishingly calm, but everybody knows there is a war. The French have their teeth set and are confident of the final outcome. Women are in the custom house, drive the trams, collect the fares and do a hundred other things that are usually out of their line.
I found the hall filled with colleagues, and exchanged greetings with the crowd before going over to the Foreign Office to make my bow. I found Colonel Fairholme packing, and ready to leave this evening for England.
The Foreign Office has a pretty little villa in a pretty little garden and keeps busy. I saw everybody, from Monsieur Davignon down to the porters, and spent an hour and a half there. Then at their request I went to the "Palace" and talked with General Jungbluth. He will try to arrange my business for me by telegraph, and will let me know in the morning whether I am to go up to the front to see the King and Queen.