Agent of Peace

by Jennifer Hobhouse Balme

  We started for Louvain – as usual in the rain, but when we got there it lifted a bit. We lunched in the train and so were prepared for a long afternoon. The Commandant of the town met us at the Station. Captain Kreuter (?notebook) a most charming and handsome young man of about 30. He wore a long and ample dark green cloak. We were introduced and he inquired what language he should speak running over a list for choice. I laughed and said ‘English’. ‘Ah! Then you are an American.’ ‘No’, I said ‘English’. He gave a start of surprise and bowed. I said ‘It is a secret, please guard it’. ‘With my life’, he said gallantly and we walked off together. Outside he had a trap and horse ready for me. First however, he took me to the centre of the Station Square and described to me the events of the night of August 24 or 25. The Station Square is large and wide and all the houses that surround it are wrecked. They were chiefly small restaurant Inns. Louvain has two other large Squares, viz the Old Market and the Place de Peuples. The Germans assert that they had been in the town since the 19th, that the town was perfectly quiet and that notices had been affixed saying that if the people kept quiet nothing would happen to them, and that their men were bivouacked in the three Squares and their bayonets stacked. Suddenly a rocket was fired in the early evening and at that signal the German soldiery were fired upon from the houses, roofs and cellars of these three Squares. In the Station Square the fighting was fierce, the soldiers retaliating upon their unseen foe and setting fire to the houses in order to get them out. The fighting continued up the Station Street nearly the whole of which is ruined, only walls remaining. In the Place de Peuples the attack was less severe for only a part of the houses are ruined and those are scattered in and out amongst other houses quite untouched. Moreover the adjacent streets are unimpaired. The affair in the Old Market was more serious for the end wall of the famous Library comes down to the Square. Beneath it in a rez de chaussée, are always kept the piled up heap of tents and canvas booths belonging to the market. The evening was dry with a light breeze and by reason of the fighting and firing these canvasses caught fire and burnt like timber. The Library above was soon in flames. German soldiers turned round with Belgian citizens to extinguish the flames and helped work the town pump. The Library was broken into, to find the fire extinguishers, but actually that valuable building contained none, nor was any custodian to be found. The books caught quickly and nothing could be done. The building is gutted and only the walls and gable remain today. The greater part of the Old Market is untouched only (as in the Place de Peuples) some of the houses are wrecked. Unfortunately as the flames streamed into the sky the wind blew the sparks across to the roof of the Cathedral which also caught. The German officer, Capt Manteuffel, ordered a few houses adjacent to be blown up with dynamite to prevent the fire spreading to the Hotel de Ville and that unique building stands unharmed and untouched. Manteuffel himself rescued the painting, one of great value which hung in the Cathedral of St Pierre and carrying it out had it placed in the Volksbank where it is to this day. The fire was got under control, only the roof and Carillon being burnt, and the heat melting the leaded panes the old glass fell down and was smashed. Already it is freshly roofed and the nave (still smelling of fire) boarded off while Service is held in the Choir and transepts. Here I watched with deepest emotion German soldiers and Belgian Citizens kneeling side by side at prayer. I gathered some relics of glass and molten lead.

  All this and much else was told me by the young Commandant who had been trained in London in the School of Economics. Some day witnesses of the two sides will face each other and the truth be it what it may, will be established. Two things struck me – one, that the story coincided with the description of the event as given to Eleanor Hobhouse by a young fellow of 17, a violinist of Louvain; the second that the position of the destroyed houses etc. fitted in exactly with the facts as related.

  But for a few hours there must have been a wild scene in that quiet little Cathedral town, that lovely August evening.

  As we stood in the Station Square, the officer told me that all the civilians caught with arms actually in their hands (and the arms were many and various) were arrested and court-martialled then, I think, one in every three, twenty-seven in all, were marched to that very spot and shot – and there buried. He added that he had had the bodies exhumed and given a ‘beautiful burial’ elsewhere. He was very sympathetic that young man. Further he told me that Louvain was a town of 44,000 inhabitants and 38,000 were living quietly there today. Perhaps an eighth of the town was destroyed – but as we drove about it seemed to me that was a very large estimate. Other fine churches in the town and all the other University buildings were unharmed. The exaggeration has been great. Only on the further side of the station a small suburb called Kesseloo is ruined – for the Belgian army making a sortie from Antwerp met the invaders there and they fought.

  It was not allowed to buy or take photographs, but Capt Kreuter very kindly gave me a book of views as some aid to my memory. Cathedrals seen daily get dreadfully mixed. The respectable working classes of Louvain are suffering from the cessation of business and must perforce receive food from the Comité National.

  I was taken to see Baroness Emmingen [? spelling] a German lady who, with helpers, has come to Louvain to do good to the people. They supplement the relief of the Comité National, by providing paid occupation, giving medical and other relief and by training children and girls. This lady’s house and dispensary was shown to me and she kindly gave me a cup of tea for we were perished with cold and damp. Herr Kreuter had driven me all round and about and up to a high point whence I could see the whole town spread out before me. Of the 6,000 who fled, a good number of them are men under arms. He told me that in the country districts the peasantry had for the most part repaired their houses – broken often only in parts and that to date 1,600 had been so repaired in the Arrondissement [District] for which he was responsible.

  There was much I longed to ask this affable man, but my brain was sluggish with cold and fatigue and the horrid feeling of being inquisitive was most restraining. I realized more and more that the value of my visit to Belgium lay only in being eye witness of all the material things as they were, and to the fact that the German Civil Authorities were kindly and just and honest in their administration of this country. Later too, I found out the enfeeblement of the people and their diseased condition following upon mal-nutrition. It was obvious that their rule has to be strict, because they too are subject to the military authority and this is holding the country against its will. They have reason for some nervousness because they do not know what arms the Belgians may have hidden and should the Allies have success on the Western Front it is always on the cards that there might be a civilian rising and untold carnage (I heard nothing, of course, of the arrests and executions for treason which were and are of weekly occurrence). I do not think their martial law administration was any more strict than that under which I lived in South Africa – in the Free State.

  I parted with real regret from Herr Kreuter (Parsifal I called him) a romantic figure, full of noble and ideal dreams and desires. It was in everything a day to be long remembered. He told me the Chilean Ambassador had been there and he told him that in asking for his Passport at the London Foreign Office he had mentioned his desire to see Louvain and the reply had been – There is nothing there to see, the town is completely destroyed!

  It was late when we got back to Brussels and I went straight to bed to get warm.

  Tuesday, June 13th This morning early we started for Aerschot having to go again to Louvain and change. Of all the cold days I think this was the coldest. We passed through a fresh bit of country but saw no devastation. When we reached the little station it was pouring rain and no vehicle to be got. We crossed the opening and took shelter in the little Railway Inn. Here we had a cup of coffee while Herr (name in notebook) who was sent with me to explain Aerschot (he being a member of the Commission that had taken evidence about the murder of the German Commander, Ca
ptain Steugel) went into the town to try and find some conveyance. My Baron evidently dared not go on account of his uniform, but Herr Xxx was in civil clothes and half a Belgian being a resident of Antwerp. He was very friendly, but I did not like him much – a man of totally different calibre to the others I had met – not a gentleman. Moreover, I did not think his information accurate nor that his facts tallied! He was one of the Germans long resident in Antwerp and intermarried with the Belgians.

  At last he came back saying no vehicle was to be had in town and there was no help for it but to walk - which we did. First we met a company of German soldiers who at sight of an Officer did the ‘Goose Step’ which looked exceedingly funny. It appears to be the etiquette on meeting an officer if impedimenta prevent other forms of salute. The town is small, about 8,000 inhabitants and there seemed little destruction. We came at last to the church which we lionized. Outside no harm – inside none either – only one thing – the western door of the church had (I suppose) been struck by a shell and set on fire for it was burnt and the flame had bLanckened the wall just surrounding it and two out of three pictures hanging close by had been burnt, the charred frames still hung on their nails, the canvass hanging in tags. They were valueless as works of art, but no doubt interesting to the townsfolk – about 200 years old, a bad epoch judging from the bits left and the companion one remaining untouched. The heat had melted the lead of the window panes above the door and some of these had fallen out and had been renewed but there was no good glass here. The Germans affirm that if a shell hit this door it must have come from the Belgians, they being on the West. It seemed to me just as likely that it came from no shell, but the harm was slight and there is at present no evidence. The doorway is boarded up.

  No other sign of war was to be seen in the picturesque winding streets of the little town till we reached the square where the famous outbreak took place and the Commander Capt. Steugel was found murdered on the floor of his room. We stood a long time in this Square, while Herr Xxx told the story of the affair as it was determined by the German Commission of Enquiry. This of course can be read in the German White Book on the Belgian Atrocities. We looked long at the Burgermeister’s house, M. Tielmann, – a small corner house. The Balcony covering the two middle windows is shared by the two rooms. [See Plate 5]

  The lad, a boy of 15, is supposed to have come out of his room onto the balcony in the dusk and seeing the Captain in the glare of the candlelight dressing for supper in his room, shot him through the open French windows. The shot was like a signal and immediately the soldiers in the Square below were attacked from the windows and roofs of the Square. Three or four houses in the Square are ruined or have broken windows. To my mind the weak point in this story is that there are two bullet holes in the first window (see black dots) which would indicate that he had been shot from the opposite house in the little Square. When I pointed this out to the Herr Xxx he was for a moment non-plussed, then said quickly that the original glass panes of the second window had been taken away for evidence before the Commission and new ones put in! Before that he had stated that the lad shot through the open window. The next day I got the book and pointed out to my Baron the inexactness of his statements and he, after a while, agreed with me. I did not like the man.

  It was extraordinary how little destruction there was. We went to another part of the town and on the further side of the river there was an outlying part destroyed. Altogether it is said about a tenth part of the town. I saw a number of children coming out of school and these looked pretty well. A quaint little town. A tram was running. The rain began again and the wind was furious. We had to get back to the Inn, wet through and frozen. For the first time in my life I took a half glass of gin in boiling water and thereby I believe I saved myself from severe cold and lumbago. Then I begged to be allowed to dry myself by the kitchen fire which was conceded and the kindly womenfolk let me sit by the stove while they got us a meal. And such a good meal it was – for the men a big beefsteak, for us all a grand omelet of six eggs and delicious vegetables. I watched them cook it and they talked to me a little the while – asked me with curiosity if I was the Officer’s mother? I did not dare ask much of what Aerschot had gone through, nor of present affairs. When our meal was over so was the storm. Our clothes were dried and we left by the afternoon train. At the Brussels station we fell in again with von Moltke and I was glad to take a cab to the Astoria. My Baron sat with me during my supper at which the sad-looking waiter officiated.

  Still no definite answer from Berlin and the time was passing quickly.

  Wednesday, June 14th This morning we confidently expected news from Berlin. My Baron was very anxious to go and forwarded my request in every way possible because he was so very anxious to see his young wife. He had told me of their meeting in the Alps and of their marriage immediately followed by the outbreak of war – so that in less than six weeks they were separated and except for a few days had not since met. He was evidently very anxious about her and deeply in love. She is an Austrian. They have two little children. But the reply had not come and so I wanted to go to Dinant. However the weather was so appalling, cold, wet and rough that after my experience at Aerschot I was really afraid. I regret now that I did not persevere, but indeed I felt very ill.

  We fixed to see a Communal Kitchen. Captain Bruhn’s Department had arranged this for me, and I had asked to see one in the poorer part of town. A member of his office was sent with me, a gentleman in plain clothes, somewhat Jewish looking and rather stupid. My Baron told me he was the brother of the richest man in Germany! He did not speak English well – but it was deemed unwise for an officer in uniform to go to these kitchens!!! So he was sent and I was rather glad as it gave me more opportunity of talking to the Belgian Manager of the Depôt. This was the only real and open conversation I had with a Belgian during my ten day’s stay and though short, in French, and amongst a crowd of people and I had to stand which always makes me empty-headed yet I managed to learn a good deal. I have described in my article the general aspect of the queues – the people neat and trim (not ragged) quiet and orderly and subdued – but with worn faces and blue shades under their eyes – hungry looking and fragile, not ill like the Boer women – but getting ill. I asked him at once if there was any general enfeeblement of the people or increased mortality noticeable, and he told me of the serious outbreak of tuberculosis affecting largely the glands of the neck and filling the hospitals with patients, particularly adolescents, who stood in need of extra foods, very costly in these days. This disease was rapidly on the increase. The people received daily bread and soup and on stated days other things such as coffee, lard, sugar, rice, beans and a little money according to the numbers in the family.

  The food looked good – but not sufficient. This Belgian Manager looked very good-humoured and smiling and willingly told me all I wished. Afterwards when I told my Baron about this tuberculosis he seemed seriously disturbed and even annoyed and it was plain that I was not being allowed to know the truth. We lingered by the fish market where the people were buying mussels, much loved of Belgians. We bowed off the dull Herr Xxx and tried to find Capt. Bruhn to ask him details on this point – but he was not in. The Baron urged me to do some sight seeing but I was loath.

  After lunch and rest he came to take me to the lower part of the town to see the factory for women and girls, set going by the Germans, partly no doubt to provide them with work and partly to get all kind of bags and sacks made. It has been said to me that these sacks were for use in the trenches but I can only record that I did not see any of that kind in the Factory nor amongst the great rolls of material anything suitable. 750 women and girls were at work and a more cheerful set I have rarely seen. Many were of a type far above that class of work. They worked great sewing machines propelled by electricity. They were paid three francs for a day and their dinner and a cup of tea or cocoa (I think). Some in higher positions got up to five francs a day. The material and machines were supplied by Germa
ny. A German matron superintended the adjacent kitchen and the distribution of food, and a German Red Cross Nurse had a wee dispensary where she tended cuts, bruises and other ills, a singularly pleasant woman taking real deep interest in the characters of the young women in her care. There was also a crêche where married women brought infants, and I saw fifty babies there and two large airy rooms with baths and cots and every nursery necessity and nurses.

  I did not take to the woman in charge of the Kitchen (a handsome and well educated person). She was inquisitive too and curious as to who I could be.

  Coming back from this interesting experiment I got out near the station to buy white paper for packing not having dared bring a morsel with me. The Baron did not like my doing even this bit of shopping – but I did it.

  Thursday, June 15th I was set on going to Dinant but the weather was really terrific, the worst day we had had. My lumbago threatened, I was sick with cold and feared to be laid up in bed. I dared not run that risk. We decided not to go, but later when the clouds lifted he took me out and I insisted on being taken to a shop to get a warm long sleeve vest. With difficulty I found something – evidently the choice of warm woolens was not large and as soon as I got home and put it on I felt my pains relieved.

  Then we found Capt. Bruhn and had a talk with him about the tubercular trouble. I was glad to find he was aware of it and though perhaps he tried to make light of it, he owned that it was being enquired into by an American Doctor on the Commission. (This has since been issued as a Report by Dr. Lucas and is very important.) He laid stress on the impossibility of coping with this trouble owing to the blockade. The people are caught in a vice. Their patience is marvellous.

  Leaving him we turned in to the Picture Gallery which I was anxious to see in order to know if any had been removed. My Baron said it was the French and Napoleon who did that sort of thing, and I felt guiltily that so also had we in South Africa. Kitchener brought away Kruger trophies from Pretoria and Lord Roberts Mr Fischer’s Silver-Wedding Silver Tea Service etc and officers and men took every sort of thing which I saw in their kits from sewing machines and silver candlesticks to old Bibles.