Liege on the Line of March Part 7

When we arrived home we heard that a company of soldiers had arrested, as espions, four or five men who, like ourselves, were taking a little promenade in the wood across the valley. Our liberties are being curtailed more and more. Thank goodness there is a large garden and a private wood to wander in. A month ago the order was that every inhabitant must be in the house and lights out at eight P. M.

Now it is seven o'clock and as the days grow shorter it will soon be six or five--and perhaps three. The soldiers are in such a blue fear of being shot that recently in Aerschot all the villagers were put into the church on bread and water. Some of the men were shot before their wives and most of the houses burned. And they say, "the heart of the Imperial Empire bleeds." It is not surprising that it does when one considers what is happening right here at Liege, where houses are burned and innocent men shot for murder. Afterward one finds German bullets in German soldiers, which proves what you will.

What a story we heard to-day--such a pitiful little story of somebody's blue-eyed boy who ran out with his toy gun and aimed it at the pa.s.sing troops.

They shot him dead, the little fellow, but he will sleep in a hero's grave as truly as another, for his loyal wee might.

_September 18th, Friday._

A memorable day! We went in the auto to Spa. As we drove out of the court yard we were obliged to let some hors.e.m.e.n pa.s.s, who were out for their morning exercise. I think it is somebody's body guard, for we see them often at a distance. There are about thirty of them and at close range they are rather beautiful, that is, their uniforms of spotless white broadcloth with gold tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs. _En route_ we pa.s.sed by Fort d'Embourg, which still has some of its cupolas, and Fort Chaudefontaine, which our burned soldiers defended and which is demolished. For miles around the country has been flattened, one may say, from the operation of the cannon and looks as if a cyclone had hurried across it. Every bit of shrubbery has been swept off the soil as if by a blast of magic and the singed earth has a very shorn-lamb aspect.

Our route was a veritable _via dolorosa_--destruction on both sides, in front and behind. Many houses and trees had eight inch sh.e.l.ls half sticking in them which have not exploded and n.o.body knows when they may.

The churches were without fail demolished more or less and the most astonis.h.i.+ng thing was to see, again and again, the marble statue of the Christ standing intact on the crumbling remains of an altar. It fills one with awe and reverence to see this figure repeatedly spared by a supernatural power from an otherwise pitiless devastation. We pa.s.sed through the now famous Louvigne which was entirely burned by the Prussians on their way to Liege. It was the same old story of the "civilians firing on the troops," or rather the excuse of the delinquents to martyr innocent villagers who instinctively took up a rifle to defend their homes, as any one of us would. And revenge came quickly.

As we neared this spot which scarred the face of Nature, we were seized with silent horror. If, in the smiling suns.h.i.+ne and in the quiet of the beautiful country, we s.h.i.+vered at the sight of such destruction and the thought of that dastardly work which marked the destiny of hundreds of human beings, what must the awful realization have been to the inhabitants themselves? Fancy the helplessness of them and their consternation at the approach of a great army bearing down, of men maddened with the love of conquest, of the wild beast seeking what it may devour! Imagine the distant rumbling of wheels, drawing nearer and nearer, the thud of horses' hoofs, the rhythmic tramp of feet, first wafted on the wind, and finally the frightful dread confirmed by a sudden explosion from the forts. Then the arrival--the dark--the noise--the confusion--the terror of the women--the screams of little children clinging to their mothers--the despair of the old ones, ill and bedridden--fire everywhere and men torn from the arms of their loved ones and stood up in a row and shot. What ghastly scenes, illumined still more by those rockets of flame from the forts which cut across the plain to stay the brutal invaders!

I saw a little girl come out from the debris to draw water from a pump--for what? For whom? There did not seem to be a living creature in the vicinity, though perhaps some of the poor things who fled out into the night across the fields for safety, have come back to dig out a little home under the crumbled stone. One or two houses remained standing, which seems a miracle, as petrole-soaked fire-brands were thrown systematically into every habitation. As we pa.s.sed, rather quickly, I counted ninety houses in ruins and about half a mile from the road, a magnificent chateau, a victim as well as the meanest hovel. The facade only was standing, though on approaching directly, the building seemed intact, except for a curious impression of daylight s.h.i.+ning through the windows.

Coming back in the twilight the effect of all this misery was accentuated, the sentinels every few hundred yards were more suspicious than ever and when we came upon a few isolated "_Hussars de la Mort_"

with the death's head leering out from those elegant fur turbans, I thought all was finished. Happily the men were more peaceable than their aspect.

Spa, the lovely, indolent _ville d'eaux_, which we visited, was filled with the "military" and bristling like a porcupine with saw-edged bayonets and pointed helmets.

_September 22nd, Tuesday._

The doctor has gone to Neufchateau in the Ardennes to bring back the French and Belgian wounded. I wish I could have gone with him, for we seem so useless here now that our soldiers are well, and the days are long, since the wild excitement of a giant army on the wing has cooled down. "On the wing" is not an idle expression when we remember those forced marches and how they lashed the poor artillery horses which galloped and strained in the traces without making much impression on the wheels. It was rather like that famous chariot race in the play, "Ben Hur," when the landscape rolled around too fast for the horses.

Certain Imperial Esprits have doubtless already arrived, but without the baggage--an item somewhat important.

May the Fates preserve beautiful Paris! There is a dear little French sister at the Convent (this Sisterhood was transferred from Metz after the War of 1870) who says that we must pray the Blessed Virgin every day to "_ecraser_ (smash) _les Allemands_," and she says it so fervently that one does not observe the lack of Christian spirit.

Very little is pa.s.sing through the city at present except perhaps this eternal line of trains, and oh, how we are thirsting for news! Can you imagine, dear people at home, you who have hundreds of newspapers, how we are straining every nerve to know the real truth of things as they are, to pierce through this thick wall, with which an arrogant despotism has cut us off from the whole world? But we cannot. It is wadded on both sides with deceptions and our only privilege is to surmise. What poor things we are, in truth, though born and reared in the common independence of the age. Everywhere (else) the poorest farmer has his one old horse to take him to and fro, where he will, and he has his acre of G.o.d's country, where he may muse in the sun or dream with the stars, while we, conquered by numbers, must walk in a straight line without loitering and we must go into our houses at seven P. M. and close the door. Do you think that is amusing?

_September 24th, Thursday._

We heard five booms of cannon in an hour this morning and bad and inhuman as it sounds, we were quite pleased--any little sign from an outside world that one lives, one breathes, to drag us out of this inertia, this eternal silence!

_September 28th, Monday._

There was quite a demonstration in Liege yesterday when they brought back from Neufchateau some Belgian and French wounded. The people all shouted, "_Vive la France._" Today we have a new military governor, who has given the order to shoot, without hesitation, any person attempting such an indiscretion again.

The scene of operations is gradually swinging back into Belgium and the stories of atrocities are increasing. The sacking and burning of Louvain, with its art treasures and its world-famous library of rare books and old ma.n.u.scripts, is only another blot on a s.h.i.+eld already stained. In fact, it is said that the general who permitted it is most discontented with himself for having been so stupid and that he has been relieved from active service on account of ill health.

Monsieur Max, the burgomaster of Brussels, has been taken prisoner and is in confinement at Namur, because he was not able nor willing to meet the demands of the Prussians, who want gold. We hear that the women of Germany have been required to give up all their jewelry, except wedding rings, for fighting money.

_September 30th, Wednesday._

We went again to Spa in the auto. Pa.s.sing again through the pitiful village of Louvigne, we saw, in a meadow, the graves, covered with wayside flowers, of the farmers who were shot. The soldiers picked out forty of the villagers, stood them up in a line, then shouted, "Save yourselves." Thirteen were shot in the back and the rest escaped. What words to find for this barbarism? But is it barbarism and not rather the refined cruelty of civilization? Is it not better then to remain a primitive, with a beautiful faith in the Sun-G.o.d?

_October 1st, Thursday._

The siege of Antwerp has begun. Here is a dialogue between the Kaiser and his _belle armee_.

K. "I need Antwerp."

A. "Your Majesty shall have Antwerp, but we need five hundred thousand men."

K. "You shall have them."

Does this explain the fantastic array of soldiers, sailors, the old, the young, grandfathers and infants, the simple rank and file and the elegant regiments of H. M. that are continually trailing on to the battlefield?

_September 29th, Tuesday._

The servants are dismantling the house today, putting all the art treasures in safety--tapestries, silver, portraits, paintings, rugs, fine china, furniture, dresses, furs, books, linen--in fact everything of value. All this is to be taken off for safekeeping and sealed up,--maybe, in the crystal caves of the river nymph, Arethusa. Madame X.

does not like to imagine the _Haus Fraus_ parading in her sables.

A man in the city saw some circulars ready for distribution that were printed by the German War Office, saying that in case of retreat of the army, the inhabitants of Liege would have six hours to evacuate the city.

All that horror over again? Oh! this is a more terrifying thought, even, than the advance of an army.

Madame de H. managed to get through to us a letter from Brussels by messenger. What dreadful things are happening, what curious things!

Three kilometres from her chateau on the other side of Brussels is an old feudal castle which has been occupied for the last two years by an Austrian family. These people were never very neighborly, preferring their own society evidently and spending all their time and interest in repairing the dilapidated walls of an unused wing of the chateau. This had turned out an endless task, as it appears, continued for weeks and then suddenly and unaccountably stopped for days, only to be feverishly recommenced. But of course, people round about, accustomed to the varying energy of workmen in general were not puzzled at this. At least this was the explanation given and, in truth, it began to look as if the old place would live its given quota of days and crumble away still unfinished.