"They were all written to 'dear brother Wilhelm,' from sisters and
brothers, sending him their loving greetings, praying that his health
might be good, promising to send him gifts of food and yearning for his
home-coming." They were anxious, for here had been no news for some
time. "Every time the postman comes we hope for a little note from you."
Can any generous heart think of that anxious waiting unmoved? Shall we
children of one Life wait till we have wholly darkened each other's
homes, and then call our handiwork peace?
But by that time, by the judgment of God, our eyes will be opened.
We who are bound by the same grief for ever,
When all our sons are dead may talk together,
Each asking pardon of the other one,
For her dead son.[52]
It is we at home who seem to yield only to this dread proof. With the
fighters it is often different, as we have seen, and though the stories
savour of repetition, the repetition is surely worth while. I have aimed
here at no literary production, but simply at a collection of facts that
may reach the heart. "We sing," said a soldier from Baden, "to the
accompaniment of the piano--especially during the interval for dinner.
We have indeed entered into a tacit agreement with the French to stop
all fire between 12 and 1 o'clock, so that they and we might not be
disturbed when we feed." (_Zeitung am Mittag_, as quoted in the _Daily
Chronicle_, November 10, 1914.) "One of our teachers, a lieutenant in
the R.F.A., who has been out most of the time, had a few days' leave
some weeks ago. He said to the school, assembled to do him honour,
'Boys, do not believe the stories you read about the Germans in the
newspapers. Whatever they may have done at the beginning of the war, the
German is a brave and noble soldier, and after the war we must be
friends.'" (From a private letter.) A soldier writes that a diary he
kept was blown to bits by a shell. He gave what remained of it to a
wounded German who pleaded for it. He had met many German Socialists in
the fighting. "It is a blessing to meet such men and amid all the
slaughter brought about by our present system, it seems heaven upon
earth." (_Labour Leader_, June 24, 1915.)
ARE WE ALWAYS CHIVALROUS?
It will only be making the _amende honorable_ if we do our best now to
spread reports of good deeds of the enemy, for in the early stages of
the war we deliberately deleted them from messages, and we have
certainly done a great deal to conceal them ever since. Writing to the
_Times_ in October, 1914, Mr. Herbert Corey, the American correspondent,
said: "The _Times_ leader quotes the _Post_ as charging that I 'flatly
made the charge that dispatches had been altered for the purpose of
hiding the truth and blackening the German character.' I do not
recollect this phrase. I did charge that dispatches of German
atrocities were permitted to go through unaltered, and that sentences in
other dispatches in which credit was given the Germans for courtesy and
kindness were deleted. I abide by that statement."
There have been many angry references to unfair German attempts to
influence neutral opinion. A letter such as Mr. Corey's makes me able to
understand why some neutrals have accused England of the very same
unfairness. There is other testimony to the same effect. Mr. Edward
Price Bell, London Correspondent of the _Chicago Daily News_, has, in a
pamphlet published by Fisher Unwin, indicted the British censorship in
the following terms:
I call the censorship chaotic because of the chaos in its
administration. I call it political because it has changed or
suppressed political cables. I call it discriminatory because
there are flagrant instances of its not holding the scales
evenly between correspondents and newspapers. I call it
unchivalrous because it has been known to elide eulogies of
enemy decency and enemy valour. I call it destructive because
its function is to destroy; it has no constructive function
whatever. I call it in effect anti-British and pro-German
because its tendency--one means, of course, its unconscious
tendency--often is to elevate the German name for veracity and
for courage above the British. I call it ludicrous, because it
has censored such matter as Kipling's "Recessional" and
Browning's poetry. I call it incompetent because one can
perceive no sort of collective efficiency in its work. And
because of the sum of these things I give it the final
descriptive--"incredible."--_Daily News_, January 7, 1916.
There is no doubt that people often _fear_ to tell of German good deeds.
An acquaintance of mine told me that his boy got decorated for bringing
in a badly wounded comrade from near the German trenches. A little
shamefacedly my informant went on: "I don't mind telling _you_, but I
_shouldn't like it to be known generally here_, that I know the Germans
act well sometimes. My boy wrote he would have had no chance, but he
heard the Germans give the order to cease fire." My informant evidently
feared the neighbours would call him pro-German if he told this to them,
but he thought he might venture to tell a pacifist.[53]
One notices this fear sometimes in rather amusing ways. In a railway
compartment with me were a loud-mouthed patriotic woman "war-worker" and
a mere soldier back from the front. I'm afraid I got a little at
loggerheads with the war-worker, who adopted in argument a kind of
furious grin which revealed a formidable row of teeth that in my
mind-picture of her have become symbolically almost gigantic. I turned
for relief to the mere soldier, and while the train was moving we had a
pleasant dip into soldier philosophy. "I've come to the conclusion that
there's good and bad everywhere," he said. "I've known bad Germans, and
I've known Germans to look after our wounded as well as a British Tommy
could look after his chum." There was more to this effect, but whenever
the train stopped and our voices became audible to others, we were
silent. The fear of that row of teeth was, I think in both our hearts,
and I could see the mere soldier looking timid before them.
Fair play to the enemy's character is a concession not quite so easy to
the average Englishman as he supposes. "The Anglo-Saxon race has never
been remarkable for magnanimity towards a fallen foe." Just now, when we
are inclined to be almost afraid of the excess of chivalry which
possesses us, there may be useful corrective in these words of
Lieutenant-General Sir William Butler, K.C.B. There has been much
searching of old history books of late to find out what was said in the
days of Tacitus against the Germans.[54] (What Tacitus said in their
favour is not considered.) Perhaps on the other side there are
investigators searching their history books for ancient opinions of the
English. "Strike well these English," said Duke William to his Normans,
"show no weakness towards these English, for they will have no pity for
you. Neither the coward for running well, nor the bold man for fighting
well will be better liked by the English, nor will any be more spared on
either account." Butler approved this verdict. We shall not readily
agree with him. Yet he did not speak without cause: he had known an
English general kick the dead body of an African King, who "was a
soldier every inch of him," and he had known the colonists spit upon an
African chief brought bound and helpless through Natal. ("Far Out," p.
131.) I believe myself there is a great and ready generosity in the
hearts of the English people, but he must surely be a man invariably on
the "correct" side who has not more than once come across the official
Englishman who could be a bully to those in his power.
SOME BRITISH OPINIONS.
"I am disgusted by the accounts I see in the papers of the inferiority
of Germans as soldiers. Don't believe one word of it. They are quite
splendid in every way. Their courage, efficiency, organisation,
equipment and leading are all of the very best, and never surpassed by
any troops ever raised. They come on in masses against our trenches and
machine guns, and come time after time, and they are never quiescent,
but always on the offensive. I am full of admiration for them, and so
are all who know anything about them. It is a pity that such fine
soldiers should have behaved so badly in Belgium and here; they have
behaved badly, there is no doubt about it, but nothing like what is said
of them--any way in parts I have been through." These words from a
General Officer commanding a brigade occur in a letter published in the
_Times_ of November 19, 1914. Yet these "quite splendid" fighters are
the men of whom a learned professor appointed by the Government has
written that they are "rotten to the core." There is some discrepancy
here. "They are great workers, these Germans," wrote Philip Gibbs
(_Daily Chronicle_, July 5, 1916), "and wonderful soldiers."
"An officer of the _Sydney_ gave a quite enthusiastic account of the
officers of the _Emden_. 'Vitthoef, the torpedo lieutenant, was a
thoroughly nice fellow. Lieutenant Schal was also a good fellow and half
English. It quite shook them when they found that the captain had asked
that there be no cheering on entering Colombo, but we certainly did not
want cheering with rows of badly wounded men (almost all German) laid
out in cots on the quarter deck. Captain von Müller is a very fine
fellow.... The day he was leaving the ship at Colombo, he came up to me
on the quarter-deck and thanked me in connection with the rescue of the
wounded, shook hands and saluted, which was very nice and polite of
him.... Prince Hohenzollern was a decent enough fellow. In fact, we
seemed to agree that it was our job to knock one another out, but there
was no malice in it.' This is the ideal fighting, 'with no malice in
it.' It has been achieved by many English and Germans, and that gives
hope for the future. Let us make the most, not the least, of what points
towards a better understanding.... At the beginning of November
'Eye-Witness' records how English prisoners had been sheltered by the
Germans in cellars to protect them from the bombardment of their own
side. An Anglo-Indian tells of a wounded havildar who was noticed by a
German officer. 'The German officer spoke to him in Hindustani, asking
him the number of his regiment, and where he came from. He bound up his
wounds, gave him a drink, and brought him a bundle of straw to support
his head. This will be remembered to the credit side of our German
account.'
"A wounded officer addressed some students at one of our universities.
He protested humorously that he was not a 'pro-German,' and then spoke
up for a fair view of the enemy. When he was being carried into
hospital, he noticed an anti-aircraft gun just outside the hospital.
This struck him as, to say the least, unwise. He expected the hospital
to be shelled, and this occurred. He did not blame the Germans. On
another occasion a farm near the firing line was used for first aid. It
was not obviously a hospital and was fired on. The Commanding Officer
sent a note to Von Kluck to explain matters, and the farm was never
after exposed to fire.[55] He had seen a church damaged by German shell
fire, but this was one which he had himself seen used by the French for
observation purposes.[56] The same officer uttered a warning against
believing all that was in the 'Tommies' letters. At one time when he was
censoring letters, one passed through his hands from a Tommy only just
arrived in France, and never in the firing line. He described an immense
battle in which the English did wonders and he himself had marvellous
duties to perform. As far as the military situation was concerned the
letter was quite harmless, so it was allowed to go through. It was
something like the intelligence to the publication of which the Press
Bureau 'does not object.'"[57][58]
In her book, "My War Experiences on Two Continents," Miss Macnaughten
writes of the Germans: "Individually, I always like them, and it is
useless to say I don't. They are all polite and grateful, and I thought
to-day, when the prisoners were surrounded by a gaping crowd, that they
bore themselves very well." (p. 127). Again, "I found one young German
with both hands smashed. He was not ill enough to have a bed, of course,
but sat with his head fallen forward trying to sleep on a chair. I fed
him with porridge and milk out of a little bowl, and when he had
finished half of it he said, 'I won't have any more. I am afraid there
will be none for the others.'" (p. 37.) Unfortunately, Miss Macnaughten
too readily accepted war stories. She writes of "country houses" where
he heard German prisoners here lived in luxury, "and they say girls are
allowed to come and play lawn tennis with them." The humour of this will
be apparent to any who have visited internment camps. Lawn tennis was,
however, possible at some camps, both here and in Germany--there were
seven courts at Ruhleben. Some of the atrocity stories many of us will
recognise as not so reliable as Miss Macnaughten supposed. It is her
personal experiences which are important, and, like the Scotchman[59]
(whom she quotes) she has, not hatred, but respect, for the Germans whom
she herself meets.
THE EASE OF ACCUSATION.
Again and again, everywhere, we find readiness to accept stories against
the enemy on very slender evidence. At the time of the loss of our three
cruisers I saw in one of the better newspapers a large heading, "German
Treachery. Fighting under the Dutch Flag." I looked down the columns for
evidence. No mention of such a circumstance in the official report, none
in the letter from the chief correspondent; but at last I found that
some one at Harwich had "heard of" such an incident. We must remember
that only cool and clear intellects are likely at such a time to give
an accurate account of facts. Between others mutual recrimination may
readily arise. An officer on H.M.A.S. _Sydney_ wrote after the attack on
the _Emden_: "It was very interesting talking to some of the German
officers afterwards. On the first day they were on board one said to me,
'You fire on the white flag.' I at once took the matter up, and the
torpedo-lieutenant and an engineer (of the _Emden_) both said
emphatically, 'No, that is not so; you did not fire on the white flag.'
But we did not leave it at that. One of us went to the captain, and he
got from Captain von Müller an assurance that we had done nothing of the
kind, and that he intended to assemble his officers and tell them so."
Note how readily on the other side, amongst those less responsible or
less cool-headed, a tale may grow up against _us_. Let us observe in
considering tales against them the same caution that we should wish them
to exercise in considering tales against us.[60]
TROOPS IN OCCUPATION.
Witnesses from Brussels and from Ghent have spoken well of the personal
behaviour of both soldiers and officers. A neutral correspondent writes
in the _Times_ of January 28, 1915:
"On the whole it cannot be said that the behaviour of the German
officers and soldiers towards the population of Ghent is bad.
When the German troops entered the city, strict injunctions were
given them to refrain from pillaging, and to pay for everything
they bought in the shops, very much to the disgust of many...."
Mr. Gabriel Mourey has written an account of his custody of the Palais
de Compiègne during the invasion. The _Times_ review of this book is so
interesting that I propose to give some extracts from it:
First the palace served as the general headquarters of the
British Army during the last stage of the strategic retreat to
the Marne; and in the closing days of August, M. Mourey looked
out of his window to see Generals French and Joffre walking up
and down the terrace in consultation, while in the park English
soldiers were shaving themselves calmly before little pieces of
broken mirror. In a night they had left Compiègne, blowing up
the Louis XV. bridge ("utterly improved," and therefore no great
loss). On the next day came the Uhlans, by no means so terrible
as they had been painted.... Von Kluck was to make his
headquarters there for a day, and the first announcement of the
doubtful honour was brought by an engineer lieutenant, who came
to make a wireless installation on the palace roof. He was very
quick, but he found time to inform the conservator that his name
was Maurin, that it was a French name. He repeated it many
times, "C'est un nom français," and he was plainly proud of it.
Then came Von Kluck himself, asking in polite and excellent
French that he might be shown over the palace. Of him M. Mourey
draws a by no means unattractive picture, urbane yet reserved,
with real admiration for the treasures of the Palace, discreetly
murmuring "Je sais" at the close of every explanation, not
offensively, but as though some long forgotten memory had
returned to him, making his frequent "Kolossal" sound in his
conductor's ears as gently as the continual "Very nice" of the
British Officer, and, his visit over, promising that respect
should be paid to the monument of Imperial France.
But Von Kluck could not stay. He was followed by Von Marwitz, no
less polite, no less sympathetic to M. Mourey's natural fears,
and generous enough to write and sign a proclamation forbidding
his troops to lay their hand upon the palace. He, too, went his
way. Von Kluck's Quartermaster-General seized the opportunity of
making a private levy of 5,000f. upon the town before he sped
like Gehazi after his master's chariot. Then ensued the brief
reign of lesser men, stupid, brutal, blustering, bullying,
insulting, because they feared a civilisation which they could
not understand.
I think we know such men, and many privates know such men, elsewhere
than in the German army. Germany may have cultivated them in greater
numbers--that is highly probable--but they are rife everywhere, and
under favourable circumstances they thrive exceedingly.
Their insolent arrogance culminated in a certain aide-de-camp,
who arrived post-haste to say that the Palace must be instantly
made ready to receive an Excellence _par excellence_. A man of
imagination this aide-de-camp, for when at his command M. Mourey
showed him over the palace and pointed out the gaps in the
collections made by the soldiers' pilfery, he said with an
all-explanatory air, "But why didn't you get souvenirs ready for
the officers?" The Excellence whom this right Brandenburger
heralded was no less than the Kaiser himself, and M. Mourey is
convinced that it is to the Imperial intention that the safety
of Compiègne is owing. It may be: but we prefer to think that
honourable foes such as Von Kluck and Von Marwitz had their
share in the unusual consummation.[61]
"The Irish Nuns at Ypres" gives an account of their experiences by a
member of the Community. In a review (May 27, 1915), the _Times_
Literary Supplement says:
For us in England it is hard to realise the feeling of sickening
anxiety with which, on October 7, these defenceless ladies
witnessed the arrival in Ypres of the devastators of Belgium. On
this occasion, apart from a certain amount of looting, the
Germans behaved "pretty civilly," and the Abbey had nothing to
complain of but want of bread.
Another French account of the invaders in Northern France is given by
Gabriele and Margerita Yerta, "Six Women and the Invasion." Their
experiences were variable. "It is clear," writes a reviewer in the
_Nation_, "that Herr Major, and 'Barlu,' and 'Crafleux' and the two
'model Prussians,' who replenished the house with coal and provisions,
and offered the ladies game they had shot, only sinned by their
over-gallantry. But things changed for the worse with the coming of a
hundred Death's Head Hussars and Lieutenant von Bernhausen.... Nothing
very outrageous is recorded, but there was dragooning, inquisition,
drunkenness. Bernhausen's reign lasted two months." As to outrages on
women, Madame Yerta writes: "To be sure there were rapes, but, thanks be
to God, these were few, and they took place at the beginning of the
invasion.... I must confess that many a woman was the victim of her own
imprudence." The book is, naturally, fiercely anti-German, its facts
are, however, those of any war story.
Again, "On the whole the Germans behaved well at St. Quentin. Their rule
was stern but just, and although the civil population had been put on
rations of black bread, they got enough, and it was not, after all, so
bad." This testimony is the more noteworthy because, "as one of the most
important bases of the German Army in France the town was continually
filled with troops of every regiment, who stayed a little while and then
passed on." (Philip Gibbs, "The Soul of the War," p. 152.) It is a
little startling to read some more that Mr. Gibbs has to say.
French-women were ready to sell themselves to German soldiers, and "such
outrageous scenes took place that the German order to close some of the
cafés was hailed as a boon by the decent citizens, who saw the women
expelled by order of the German commandant with enormous thankfulness."
I am not so surprised at this now as when I first read it. An English
soldier has since told me that the "silliness" (as he called it) of
women for soldiers leads them, in more cases than he could have
imagined, to bestow themselves on either friend or enemy. Women with
child had said to him quite proudly that it was by a German soldier!
From a private letter: "One of the party is a French officer who tells
the tale. After the Marne retreat he was crossing over the territory
evacuated by the Germans, and made inquiry of the villagers who had
housed the enemy, how they had been treated, what barbarities had been
committed, and so forth. The villagers were surprised. The Germans had
behaved like gentlemen, had paid for what they used, and had treated
them with perfect courtesy. What, no looting? On the contrary, the
German officer had a soldier shot for a very small act of pillage....
'We're soldiers, not robbers,' he said." I cannot vouch for this story,
but it gives just the same impression as the account given by Dr.
Scarlett-Synge (see pp. 149ff). It is also remarkably similar to
experiences recounted by C. A. Winn (Baron Headley) who was with the
Prussians in 1870. ("What I saw of the War," p. 44.) When he himself had
taken some vegetables from a garden, he was told by his officer friends
that any sort of pillage was the "greatest offence a friend of the
Prussians could be guilty of." And Mr. Winn speaks of "the many
instances of the remarkable efforts of the authorities of the Prussian
army to prevent plunders by their soldiers." It must be remembered that
deliberate destruction for military reasons, or as punishment (carried
out by all armies) is very different from theft. I do not for a moment
suppose that this standard is always reached by the German armies. That
it has often been aimed at is something to remember.
I may add here a rather interesting quotation from Colonel F. N. Maude's
book, "War and the World's Life." On page 11 he writes: "I do not
suggest that life in the Prussian army has at any time been ideal, but I
do assert, from personal knowledge, that relatively to their respective
stages of civilisation the treatment of the Prussian soldier, since
1815, has at all times been fairer and more humane than in any other
army. The fact is proved by the very high standard of discipline
maintained, together with the extraordinary absence of military crime
which has so long distinguished it."
I am reminded, too, of one of the first experiences of a friend of mine
in France. He reached a village through which the Uhlans had passed. Had
the inhabitants any complaints of their behaviour? None whatever.[62]
Their only indignation was directed against some English soldiers who
(if their story be correct) had behaved abominably. It was a curious
shock of reality for my friend. He realised that sometimes the enemy
might behave well, and sometimes bad stories of English soldiers might
be circulated (even amongst Allies). I am quite sure that no soldiers in
the world would, in general, have more natural humanity than the
British, and perhaps none would have as much. I contend only against the
belief that one side is impeccable, and the other hopelessly barbarian.
FROM THE INTERNATIONAL REVIEW; A COMMON MEMORIAL.