Heine.
The extraordinary spirit of reconciliation shown by these men, their total lack of humiliation in defeat, was in such strange contrast to the confident pride with which they had originally invaded Belgium that it was difficult to believe one’s eyes. And in their individual self-control, in the genial smile with which they met the rabble’s taunts, was a more beautiful pride than before—the pride of awakened conscience, and of that innate moral force which, despite aristocratic plottings, had before the war raised Germany to a foremost place among nations; which will no doubt raise her again, like a phœnix, from the ashes of her errors.
However, there were also dark, familiar stains to mar this dawning of a new Germany whose sun, by a strange irony of Fate, arose in Belgium! The yesterday of trickery and terrorism in certain members of that vast host still survived the night of defeat. Soldiers, by force of arms, committed daring thefts throughout the country, mostly to obtain money, of which the troops seemed in great need—must indeed have been, since some sold their weapons, bed-covers, and even their clothing. One day I heard a young under-officer bartering his boots with a café garçon for fifty francs, when shoes of any sort, at the time, could not be had for less than a hundred, or even more. Another evidence of this need, and one of enlightening significance, was the reckless sale of goods which they held in outlying districts of Brussels. At Forest and other suburban parts of the city, great car-loads of material, looted from shops and private houses probably months or years ago,—for the dry-goods shops of Brussels had been cleaned out quite two years before,—were offered at absurdly trivial prices. Silk-velvet, which could not be had in Brussels for less than two hundred francs, went at a mark a yard; warm woollen stuffs, which the shivering population, thinly clad in dyed cotton, could not obtain at any price in the shops, were sold—to such as deigned to buy—for an equally small sum. All these goods, taken on pretence of clothing the army—or Belgian prisoners!—were brought to light again, and not only stuffs, but all manner of other things, as if from some pirates’ cave, were bartered back to those who had been robbed of them.
But now thieving became more bold; not by officers, but by soldiers, who did not attempt to disguise it with transparent lies.
In some cases, nevertheless, that old trick was still tried, as in that of a prominent banker, who was robbed of one hundred and twenty-five thousand francs by six soldiers. Evidently familiar with banking affairs, they presented themselves at his office after business hours, and, finding him alone with one employé, coolly demanded the sum desired. The characteristic Teuton excuse was not wanting—characteristic in its absurdity: Belgians might rob the army en route!—unarmed Belgians might loot the German vans, under guard of many hundreds of armed soldiers!—therefore large sums were demanded from all banks as guarantee!
The banker stated that he was unable to grant their demand, as there was no money available in the bank. But even as he spoke two encaisseurs entered; their satchels, containing the amount mentioned, were seized, the contents quietly appropriated, and the soldiers, revolver in hand, retired. The banker appealed to the revolutionary chiefs, who refused to credit his story, stating proudly that “Germans were not thieves.” But by dint of perseverance, and many visits, he at last convinced them, and the money was returned to him, from army funds, just one hour before these high-minded leaders were, for some reason unknown to us, thrown out of power.
Another instance of the justice which these unfortunately displaced chiefs endeavoured to exercise, was the punishment of a German soldier, who, convicted of having murderously assaulted the woman cashier of a restaurant and stolen the contents of her caisse, was placed against a wall and shot—or so we were told.
The shocking original methods of German troops, in regard to places they inhabited, were also revived in these days. At one private hotel with whose proprietor we were well acquainted, their behaviour was almost beyond belief. The hotel had been requisitioned, and occupied during the war by German women, who left it in good condition. But the troops, who afterwards took possession for a few days only on their way out, reduced it to a state of uncivilized filth and wanton destruction, committing unmentionable acts whereby the up-to-date and valuable kitchen utensils, the flower-pots, and even the drawers of bureaus were rendered unfit for future service. Bombs were found under some of the beds, and the whole place had to be taken over by the State to be cleansed and examined.
Brussels, during that time, echoed day and night to spasmodic reports of firearms, sometimes of considerable duration, and consequently terrifying; at others merely an inexplicable exchange of shots.
But on Saturday the 16th and Sunday the 17th of November, the entire city trembled to blast after blast of cannon, and the shuddering shock of car-loads of ammunition set off in merciless proximity to inhabited quarters. The numerous mines buried in and about the city were also exploded—those treacherous death-traps awaiting the Allied armies, on which the occupying government had founded its boast that Brussels would be the “bouquet of the whole war,” a prediction constantly repeated.