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Updated: June 29, 2025
Migne, vol. 171, pp. 1698-1699: Femina dulce malum, pariter favus atque venenum, Melle linens gladium cor confodit et sapientum. Quis suasit primo vetitum gustare parenti? Femina. Quis patrem natas vitiare coegit? Femina. Quis fortem spoliatum crine peremit? Femina. Quis iusti sacrum caput ense recidit? Femina. etc., ad lib.
He says, "We are interested, of course, in anything relating to Mr. Tasker Jevons, and his performances seem to have been remarkable. You have written a very fine account of Melle, which I understand is a small village four and a-half miles from Ghent. But there are other events the Fall of Antwerp, for instance." Well, we got the story of the Fall of Antwerp all right. But Jimmy wrote it for me.
In the midst of their discourse on this extraordinary subject, the driver told them that they were now on the very spot where a detachment of the allied army had been intercepted and cut off by the French: and, stopping the vehicle, entertained them with a local description of the battle of Melle.
I had grown sceptical of the "plain" statement of a complex matter, and peculiarly hesitant in accepting accounts of outrage and cruelty. It was in this spirit that I crossed to Belgium. To this extent, I had a pro-German leaning. On September 7, 1914, with two companions, I was present at the skirmish between Germans and Belgians at Melle, a couple of miles east of Ghent.
The territory was divided into four vice royalties, and the system of Melle, with its semi-independent native dynasties, was carried out. His empire extended from the Atlantic to Lake Chad and from the salt mines of Tegazza and the town of Augila in the north to the 10th degree of north latitude toward the south.
On our left the homes of the peasants of Melle were burning, twenty-six little yellow brick houses, each with a separate fire. It was not a conflagration, by one house burning and gradually lighting the next. The fires were well started and at equal intensity in each house. The walls between the houses were still intact. The twenty-six fires burned slowly and thoroughly through the night.
I knew that at last we were on the fringes of war. Later, we were to be at the heart of it. It was at Melle that I learned I was on the front lines. We went up the road from Ghent to Melle in blithe ignorance, we three women. The day before, the enemy had held the corner with a machine gun. "Let's go on foot, and see where the Germans were," suggested "Scotch." We came to burned peasants' houses.
Charlotte had been sorry for Sutton and Gwinnie and the rest of McClane's corps who had not come out with them to this new place, but had been sent back again to Melle where things had been so quiet all morning that they hadn't filled their ambulances, and half of them had hung about doing nothing. She had fretted at the stupidity which had sent them where they were not wanted.
When they stayed in their houses they were burned along with the houses. I saw this done on September 7, 1914, at Melle. "The peasants shot from their houses at the advancing German army." I saw German atrocities. The peasants did not shoot. It is the old familiar formula of the franc-tireur.
On Sunday, the 11th of October, they were asked to go out to Melle, four miles south-east of Ghent, to help with some French wounded, and, after spending some time there, they met the British Staff, and were asked to help them in their retreat through Zwynarde, a town on the Scheldt about four miles south of Ghent and the same distance from Melle.
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