This letter is from a Belgian nun:
August.
“My sister Catherine, not being able to get away from Brieux, was obliged to stay there thirteen days, and it was the priest that brought her back to Bosel in tram and cart. He will go back there and show the soldiers the retreat. The Reverend Father von Volkson stayed in Malines till the last, and quietly kept on reciting his mass while they were bombarding the city. He was in civilian dress: but we don’t know where he is now. Have you heard that the Reverend Mother of Tournai had her arm lacerated by a bullet, which then went and hit Mother de B——, who was standing behind her, in the region of the heart, and both of them died, hit by the same bullet? They were going into the loft to see from which direction the Germans were advancing to take possession of the city.
“It is a just war, for God and country. It is this that gives the King and our soldiers superhuman strength. As soon as it was known that Germany was going to insult Belgium, thousands of men offered themselves to fight, and the priests accompanied these brave men to give them spiritual help and encouragement.”
“Ostend—end of October.
“During the week of the 31st of October the Belgians resisted the attacks of the enemy, and the King had the dangerous honour of commanding the Allies’ left wing while they put up a terrific fight to defend Calais, which was the principal prize of this terrific struggle. For six days our Belgians stood the fire of 250,000 Germans, who were afterwards reinforced by 100,000 others. With these forces the enemy had to pass the Yser, which was filled with bodies. Although the fight seemed ended, ’the Belgians’—to quote Cæsar—’continued to dispute the mastery of the last parcel of their territory. With a rage bordering on grief they thought they would have to capitulate immediately.’ The Belgians lost 10,000 men. They attacked again, and the enemy was forced to repass the Yser red with blood, and they were chased ten miles towards the north.
“But still, though we have lost so many, we have not lost courage. In the midst of our ruined cities and our burnt and ruined crops, higher than our burnt towers, higher than the cruel deeds, stands our hope, and higher than the ignominy our proud independence, our love for the King and our land. Not for one instant has the Belgian spirit regretted the call of honour that has caused us such calamities, and tomorrow she would still refuse, even at the same price and at the cost of the same martyrdom!
“Sir Edward Grey saluted the Comte de Lalaing (Minister Plenipotentiary at London) with the title of Ambassador, of which Belgium is worthy.
THE BELGIAN ARMY.
“If you could only hear our injured and wounded speak of the King. When an officer fell the King took his place, crying out, ’Come, my children, shoot now, like this, all together.’ And you should see how they killed their enemies! Today is the fête-day of our poor little Queen; what an anniversary! At the Palace Hotel they give the wounded wine in her honour, and they sing the ’Brabançonne,’ and ’Vers l’Avenir.’”
I give two verses of the “Brabançonne”:—
“Fled the years of servile shame,
Belgium, ’tis thine hour at last,
Wear again thy ancient name,
Spread thy banner on the blast.
Sovereign people, in thy might
Steadfast yet and valiant be,
On thy ancient standard write—
Land and Law and Liberty!
“Belgium, Mother, hear us vow,
Never will our love abate,
Thou our hope, our refuge thou,
Hearts and blood are consecrate.
Grave, we pray, upon thy shield
This device eternally,
Weal or woe, at home, a-field,
Land and law and liberty.”
From Countess ——:
“Brussels—October.
“Food is easy to get if not plentiful and the bread eatable in Brussels. V. got out of Belgium this time without being caught. We are full of hope. We are well and busy. Every one is trying to help those in need. There is much to do. Those who still remain here see each other often. We meet at each other’s houses for tea and bring information. A. was wounded in the head and has been taken prisoner. Mr. Whitlock’s untiring devotion to his work is more than appreciated by every class. He is just the man for the place. The Spanish Minister is a great help. We have had no letter since August. I knit madly to keep calm. I hope the day may come when I may say all that is in my heart. It is a suffocating feeling to have a foreign occupation. We have such a time getting the papers. One sheet appears a day, and all we want to know is carefully left out by the Germans.”
In October there comes a moan from Luxembourg.
“Luxembourg.
“We are crying for flour. Nothing sent from America can reach Luxembourg. The railways are destroyed by dynamite, toutes les routes ravagées; not one way of communication at present. The rich as well as the poor are dying of hunger and cold. All the horrors of our enemies are, alas! quite true. We are ruined, our money gone, the villa burnt. Tears are dropping on the letter as I write. This letter which may never reach you.”
“October.
“My good Mother,
“I have thought of you very often since it has pleased God to visit upon us the horrors of war. What damages have been caused by the Germans in our country! At Dinant Mr. Wassege has been shot with his two sons because he did not want to open the safe of the bank or give the combination. Seventy-five other civilians had the same fate, also hundreds of little children. The horrors the Germans have committed here are fit for Turks or savages; I could state hundreds of cases. In Antwerp two beautiful estates, which were situated near the forts, belonging to well-known German society people, were found to have underground passages leading to the fortresses. By chance, barrels were found containing German uniforms for those we have received with so much kindness, to put on when the German soldiers occupy the city, as was seen in Verviers. In several houses in Antwerp wireless plants were discovered. In Antwerp hundreds of spies were found, who dressed in all manner of clothing, as nuns, priests, and nurses.
“They are taking the civilians away to serve as soldiers in the German army, or to gather their crops. In Namur they have started to write down the births, deaths, and marriages, and the people must take German names, or be shot.
“Eight thousand people fleeing from Louvain were forced to march a great distance by the Germans, eight in a line, and they had to keep their hands in the air all the time. They had to fasten Helen P——’s baby on her back—she is the niece of Mother V. E—— so that she could walk in this way. Our soldiers often have Communion, and are full of courage and confidence. They love the King, who shows himself full of courage. He marches at the head of his troops, and after a battle shakes hands with the soldiers; we can be proud of him.
BELGIAN REFUGEES.
“A magistrate on his way back to Brussels was given a letter to deliver. He told a friend on the train he had the letter on his person, but did not know where to hide it. His friend said he was doing a very dangerous thing, for if the letter was found on him he would be shot. He also said: ’You must read it, then tear it up, and transmit the news orally.’ This he did. Later the train was surrounded by Germans, who announced that no one was to descend, and that it was forbidden to carry letters, and in consequence every one was going to be searched. Terrible fright! Of the people carrying letters, one managed to eat his, when he found that it could not be hidden and he was not able to throw it away.... The magistrate presented himself at six-thirty at the proper place, and recited the contents of the letter and told the story of his trip.”
“London—November.
“As for the Belgian refugees, it is getting to be a great problem what to do with them. There are thousands and thousands like droves of frightened sheep, not a particle of clothing but what they stand up in, and not a penny in the world. You just cannot realize it unless you see them. Ladies and gentlemen of fine position and peasants all together, and all helpless and homeless.
“It seems so horrible to think that our only thought is to kill, and that we rejoice when the enemy has lost men. I hardly dare think of it. It seems as though we had all gone mad.
“The King Albert Hospital is working well, and three more Belgian hospitals have had to be opened. They now all work under military authority, and so they do not need our assistance any more, I mean, in the way of our being there daily.
“Mrs. B—— and I have now put our hearts and energies into a Maternity Home for Belgians, that is, we have two, one for ladies and one for working women. They are both such sweet, pretty homes, that it really must help them to forget the cruelties of being far from their husbands and homes. They nearly all call their sons Albert, and the daughters either Elizabeth or Alberta.
“The streets and shops are filled with Belgians, one hears French in busses, everywhere in fact. One often hears Flemish too. I was surprised when I first heard it, for it sounded so like German. L’Echo Belge, a Flemish paper published in London, has on the first page: ’Voor God en Vaderland’—’Pour Dieu et Patrie.’ A great many papers are published here for the Belgians and French. There are innumerable appeals, many for Belgium, such as: Belgian Relief Fund, the Belgian Soldiers Fund, and so forth.
“Limericks are very common among the soldiers and are very good. Here is one about a Belgian girl. Please remember that Ypres is called Wipers by Tommy Atkins.
“There was a young lady of Ypres,
Who was hit in the cheek by two snipers,
The tunes that she played
Through the holes that they made,
Beat the Argyle and Sutherland pipers.”
“The shop windows are full of war games, such as: ’Storming the Citadel’—’Kill Kiel’—and the ’Dreadnaught game.’
“Tommy gives the bombs such amusing names, ’Black Marias,’ ’Aunt Sally’s Nephews,’ and ’Eagle Eggs.’ The German trench motor is called ’The Undertaker.’ The anti-aircraft gun is nicknamed ’Archibald’ and the German howitzer which emits a thick white smoke is called ’The Woolly Bear.’ He calls these picturesque names ’Slanguage.’”
“Brussels—November.
“We are passing horrible hours. You cannot imagine what it has been the last three months. Everywhere misery, crêpe and ruin. To add to the horror of the situation, famine has arrived. Most of our friends have had their châteaux pillaged. The buildings even are often destroyed. Our friends arrive in the night on foot, with all that they own on their backs and their children following them. They often walk miles before finding a roof to shelter them, for many villages are burnt to the ground, deserted, and many of the people shot. C’est affreux!
“Henri has won two galons for his bravery in battle. The last news we have of him is good. Dieu merci. Jean has been slightly wounded. What a relief to have him safe for the moment in a hospital. George de Ligne, Henri d’Oultremont, tués, Guy Reynteins blessé. Two of the Cornet Counts have been taken from their château, which was burned, and no one knows what has become of them. Every day the Germans are more brutal and more hateful. They are worse than they are depicted.
“We are indeed grateful to the American Minister. He is intelligent, active and kind, as well as a charming man.
“It is difficult to get the food distributed in the villages, for there are no means of conveyance, except motors run by twenty-four young Americans. They are doing fine work and are a great help. The d’Assches, de Mérodes, Beeckmans and de Beughems are here.”
A letter from Switzerland reads:
“November.
“I have been at a camp of French and Belgian soldiers in Germany, nearly fifteen thousand of them, all without blankets. They dig holes in the ground and get into them, and then spread their coats over the top in order to sleep and keep warm.”
A letter from a cousin at a hospital in France says,
“Today seventy French soldiers were brought in, all with their right hands gone.”
“Brussels—end of December.
“The weather is awful, the fighting in the North has been again very violent. We have little wool to knit with. We need flannel too for the soldiers. It is freezing. We are trying to get warm clothes to the soldiers. We are having a snowstorm such as has not been seen for twenty years, in fact one might be in America. The snow has lasted five days. Everything is all frozen and one slips and the trams are all crowded. Hospital things are particularly necessary.
“My husband asked a German, an old friend of his, if it was possible for me to take clothes to the English prisoners here. He was refused. No one has been able to help the poor English, and God only knows how they are being treated by these brutes. We have been able to help the French prisoners.”
“February.
“I saw at Ostend an old woman of ninety, who had walked from Waterloo. I do not like to write much, as it is safer not to do so. The money that was sent will go at once to a woman with five children, whose husband was wounded. I have been taking care of him at the hospital. He is well again and leaves today for the front. The wounded try to get well as quickly as possible, as they want to return to the front.
“My villa à Duinbergen près de Heyst sur mer is occupied by the Germans. My maid was left in charge. The Germans ordered her to give them our clothes. I hear my house is a house de debauche et d’orgie. La femme de chambre a été molestée par un soldat ivre. When the old gardener and his wife tried to interfere, the soldiers said if they did, they would shoot them. Oh, when will this cease and the world know the truth? Cette abominable race! My heart is broken.”
“The Hague, Feb. 22, 1915.
“My uncle and aunt are in Anjoux. Think of the life they lead, constantly struggling against all sorts of plunder, the worst elements of the population now having free play. Anarchy is uppermost in many places.... They have no respect for anything. What ruin on all sides, and to think that our poor little country was always so hospitable to those Germans!
“As to the Royal family: I know the Queen never leaves La Panne (the last Belgian village). Every day she is with the wounded and goes very near the trenches. She is admirable in her courage and strength, and I know she suffers terribly from the conduct of her compatriots (she is Bavarian), but in justice I must say that the Bavarians have everywhere behaved better than the others. The Prussians have been terrible. The old Princesse de Ligne, widow of Prince Edward, who is the Mother of the Councillor of our Legation here in The Hague, arrived here in October. She stayed one month and a half at the Château de la Neuville, near Liège, and under German dominion. Although speaking German perfectly, as she is Austrian by birth, she had a great deal to suffer. A German colonel with his revolver in his hand followed her all over the house and made her show him everything. (The same thing happened to the Comtesse de Mérode at the Château de Waterloo; everything was opened, searched, and in part plundered.) The Princesse de Ligne replied to one officer that a certain old salver of repoussé silver was not for sale, when he wished to buy it. The next day that and other pieces of silver were gone. At Conjoux they passed days of anguish during the burning of Dinant. There was a battle in the wood back of the little house where we had so often had tea.
“The plundering of Dinant was most terrible, and what has been told of the horrors of that time is not at all exaggerated. Up to the present time they have exhumed 981 bodies of civilians, of which one hundred are children between three months and ten years. All this is official. There have, of course, been exaggerations, but how many horrors are still unknown!
“There were just such massacres at Audennes, Visé, Louvain, Aerschot and Termonde, not to speak of the smaller villages, and J. told me when he passed through here to join the army that in going through Dinant between Aisny and Philippeville there was not one village that had not been completely destroyed. At Liegnon (the station where one leaves the train in going to Conjoux) they imprisoned 900 peasants in a church for seventeen days. No one was allowed to go in. Two women were confined and were unable to have a doctor. The curé of Lorinnes, near Conjoux, had his lungs pulled out on each side with the hooks that are used for the tires of motor cars. I could go on telling you of just such incidents for pages and pages.
THE CHÂTEAU OF ARDENNE.
“The Château of Ardenne, which had become the property of the State through the gift of Leopold II, has been completely emptied. There is not one piece of furniture left, nor a frame, nor a picture; everything is gone, and this is the case in many châteaux.
“At Ghent my family have suffered a great deal from the presence of the enemy in their homes. I have already told you of their installing the passport office in our grandfather’s drawing room; you remember the one where the picture hung and the chests that belonged to Marie Antoinette. You may imagine the filth, and they insisted on putting in gas, saying it was so dark they could not see. It is true it was dark, but they had no right to ruin everything. It is curious that our grandfather still has papers giving an account of the Cossacks’ sojourn in 1814. In the very same house, a Russian colonel was lodger. According to these papers, there were far fewer injuries and complaints than in 1914 against the Germans. At Laeken, in the royal château, the Germans held a veritable orgy and ruined everything; such dirt; and horrors so ignoble that I dare not describe it further. The fact is that everything in that beautiful château is in a deplorable condition.
“The Germans hope to demoralize us by circulating false reports. Every day despatches from the Kaiser announcing their victories are posted on the walls of the towns; this also to encourage their troops. The soldiers arriving in Ghent think they are within a few miles of London. The people have naturally taken a mischievous delight in undeceiving them and telling them they were by no means near London, but near the Yser. They actually wept, for the Yser is their nightmare, and with reason. That is easily understood. They do not advance; quite the contrary.
CROWN PRINCE LEOPOLD, DUC DE BRABANT.
“The King and Queen are still at La Panne. Little Prince Leopold, thirteen years old, is with them now. The other day all three on horseback reviewed the new recruits on the beach; all the time the German aeroplanes were throwing bombs.
“We have a new army of 200,000 men, and it increases every day. The spirit of the troops is excellent. The other day the Queen went with little Prince Leopold as far as the second line of trenches to see the soldiers. It was near Nieuport. She sat down amongst them, and after she left the soldiers made a little sanctuary of the spot where she had sat. Our sovereigns are adored by their troops, and they well deserve it. Nothing matters to them—neither suffering, fatigue, danger nor money, for they are wonderfully generous. Nearly all the Relief Societies for Refugees in Belgium, here in Holland, in England, and in France have had gifts from them, and in some cases they have been considerable. It is thought now that the barbarity of the Germans and their cruelty has ceased since they have been stopped at the Yser, but this is not so. Naturally massacres are less systematic than during the first three months of the war, but there are constantly peasants and civilians shot and priests sent to Germany. At Cortemarch (near Roulers) they sent the curé and the vicar to Germany because they accused the village of having had a spy. This they posted themselves in all the Flemish towns. The number of people who have had to pay ransom for one or another soi-disant reason is countless. Our cousin, living at Wielt, has been imprisoned and forced to pay one thousand marks fine for daring to lift his voice feebly against the requisitions, without even payment by note, that were levied on the farmers.
“The Germans have now forbidden disinterment of the bodies, as the proof of their cruelty was too obvious. At the time of the flight of our poor population here the little children, seeing the Dutch soldiers dressed in gray, took them for Germans, and lifted up their little arms as these latter had obliged them to do. There are still in Holland 250,000 poor refugees. They are nearly all settled in camps of wood which in the beginning were very bad, but are improving now every day. After the taking of Antwerp there were one million here for one or two months.
“My brothers are well, thank God.—Pray.—Let us pray together if you will, for all. God will hear us and will give us the joy of acclaiming our King in Brussels when he reënters at the head of his army. It is the goal and dream of all the Belgians. It will be a day of wild and mad delirium. It gives me the shivers even to dream of it.”
From the son of Dr. Depage to his mother while she was lecturing in America:—