THE YPRES TIMES
226
By Captain G. Spencer Pryse, M.C., Author of Four Days."
ON arrival at Ostend during the first week of September, 1914, I went straight
to the Commandant to ask for a car for conveyance into Antwerp. It transpired
that a small cortège would be leaving early next morning, and discretion prompted
me to join them for in the event of an encounter with the enemy, in civilian dress and
in such company, there would be every chance to pass unnoticed as a member of a little
party of citizens occupied with their own affairs.
The roads were crowded and spectators lined the streets as though it were a gala
day. It had even been found necessary to post handbills advising the population to
refrain from following the Uhlan cavalry as their curiosity might be misunderstood.
Nevertheless, every cross road had its barricade of felled trees and overturned carts
held by the Garde Civique in quaint top hats and long ulsters, carrying weapons that
may have done good service in the Napoleonic campaigns. They stood in sombre groups
in the market squares hesitating, knowing that the invader had announced his
intention to treat them as civilians and to shoot at sight any taken with arms in their
hands.
Patriots leaned over the parapets of church towers and clung to the roofs of wind
mills, scanning the country. Once or twice excited éclaireurs warned us of the presence
of Ulilans ahead and we turned into tortuous narrow lanes with volunteer guides clinging
to our mudguards and an escort of enthusiastic children. There was occasional firing
very close by, though no uniformed troops were to be seen. Certainly at that stage
some ground existed for the policy of reprisals. After an entire day spent in this manner,
night found us feeling our way through Moerbeke.
Further progress being out of the question, good luck provided the perfect host
in the person of M. Maurice Lippens, since Governor of the Belgian Congo, whose property
lay alongside the road. The servant who conducted me to my bedroom spoke proudly
of the Brunswickers his friends had already killed. The night was hot and the distant
heavy thud of gunfire came through open windows, while nearer to hand the occasional
sharp report of a rifle rang out. After breakfast, M. Lippens showed me over his house.
Very tall, and imperturbable he awaited alone and unarmed the arrival of the enemy,
anxious only for the safety of his people. It was noon when we crossed the bridge of
boats that spanned the Scheldt and constituted the solitary means of entry into the
beleaguered city.
A few moments afterwards I found myself deposited at the St. Antoine, where
accommodation had been provided for various members of the court exiled from Brussels,
together with the entire corps diplomatique. The hotel resembled nothing so much as
the Tower of Babel. In the crowded lounge, Spaniards, Roumanians, Dutch, Portuguese,
Scandinaveans, Serbians, Greeks and Japanese chatted together in little groups over
the aperative. Functionaries and staff officers hurried in with the latest news from the
outer ring of forts. After lunch, an old General assured me over his cognac that Antwerp
being the thrid strongest place in the world, might be considered impregnable. But
others fresh from the fighting a few miles away, seemed less confident. Later, M.
Davignon, Minister for Foreign Affairs, a rotund personage with a patriarchal beard
and charming manners, made his appearance in the lounge, bringing copious despatches
from the ends of the earth, which he proceeded to read aloud to a rather flippant audience.
Meanwhile, in a secluded corner, Webber, of the British Legation, drank tea with the
Countess Ghislaine, Lady-in-Waiting to the Queen, as though there had been no war
at all.
