published at Zürich, and with co-operators in Russia, Denmark, Germany,
Austria, Italy, America, Great Britain. "The yearning of human beings
towards mutual understanding needs to-day a new organ for its
expression." Hence this review--a review naturally pronounced pro-German
by our Junker Press, since it presents, amongst other things, moderate
statements of the German standpoint. The only internationalism which
this Press can recognise is one that is exclusively English. So exactly,
_mutatis mutandis_, do German and English chauvinism coincide. The
extracts which follow are taken from the first number of the review.
"Under the title, 'German-French Chivalry,' the _Volksstimme_, of
Frankfurt a.M. (June 19, 1915), describes the dedication of a memorial
to three thousand dead at Sedan on June 12. The leaders of the German
army were present, and the French authorities officially shared in the
proceedings. The short inscriptions on the simple monuments are in both
French and German. They refer alike to the seventeen hundred French and
the thirteen hundred Germans who fell on August 27 during the battle on
the heights of Noyers."
A STORY FROM FRANCE.
From _L'Action Française_, Paris (June 12, 1915), is cited a description
of the poignancy of war, of which the following is a translation:
There had been a fierce fight in front of a fortress. Many dead
lay on the ground, and a few wounded who were dying. In the
night we heard weak cries, 'Kamerad, Kamerad!' We answered,
thinking it was a German who wished to give himself up. The
cries were repeated. We thought of treachery, and each took his
stand in readiness. Suddenly, there came in pure French:
'Camerades Français!' 'What is it?' 'A wounded man lies near
you.' 'No.' 'Yes, in front of the trench.' 'We have just made a
round, and found only dead.' 'Yes, but there _is_ a wounded man
there who is calling. Can you not look for him?' 'No.' And then
in the silence we hear again, 'Kamerad, Kamerad!' The German
officer speaks again, very politely: 'French comrades, may we go
to look for the wounded man?' An inflexible 'No' is the answer.
Is not some trick concealed under his apparent humanity and his
persistence? 'Well, then,' calls the German again, 'go yourself
and look; we shall not shoot.' Can we trust a German's word,
after all that they have done? But there is no long delay. A man
from Lille springs forward: 'All right, I will go to fetch him,'
he says. 'I will go with him,' I say to the Lieutenant. The
leader of my squadron brings some others. The wounded man calls:
'Kamerad! Do not kill me!' We reassure him as to our intentions,
and as he has a shattered hip we carry him to our lines, and on
the way in spite of his suffering, he keeps on repeating with
every kind of modulation, 'Good comrade.' He was a young man,
scarcely eighteen years old, of the 205th Infantry.
I call to the enemy trenches: 'We have brought in one wounded
man, are there any others there?' 'Yes. 20 metres further to the
right.' We look round. 'There are none there, only dead.' 'Wait,
we will give you some light.' A few words in German which we
cannot understand. Will they simply shoot us down? Suddenly two
splendid rockets go up: we can see as if it were midday. We are
half a dozen marines and are standing twenty metres from the
German trenches. On the other side of the wire entanglements an
officer and men, behind the breastwork pointed helmets and caps.
All remains quiet. We look round carefully. 'Nothing. There are
only corpses here. We are going back, you go back, too.' 'Merci,
camerades français!' calls the officer, and his men repeat the
greeting of their superior. As soon as we are behind our
breastwork our Lieutenant gives a command loud enough to be
heard at sixty metres. 'In the air--Fire!' From over there once
more, 'Thank you, comrades,' as answer to our salvo, and all
falls back once more into the silence of the night; the work of
death can go on again. But for this one night not a shot was
heard around us.
How much sanity is there in a world that sets such men to kill each
other, and eggs them on to hate?
GERMAN HELP OF "ALIEN ENEMIES."
In Germany (as already mentioned in Chap. IV.) is a 'Committee for
advice and help to natives and foreigners in State and international
affairs.' It deals with those of all nationalities, and one branch of it
corresponds in many ways to the similar Emergency Committee in England
for assistance of Germans, Austrians and Hungarians in distress.
What, however, is most striking is the number of cases of individual
kindness shown by Germans to "alien enemies." The minds of many might be
cleared on this subject if they would read a charming and unpretentious
little book, "An English Girl's Adventures in Hostile Germany," by Mary
Littlefair, published by John Long, Ltd. The authoress saw and heard
absurd Press charges on the other side, and something, too, of the
irrational hatred of war-time, but the little book is a record of almost
nothing but kindness, and gives fresh hope to those who had begun to
despair of human nature.[63] Here are two cases of singular beauty from
Nauheim. A postman "happened to know of a poor English lady whose funds
had come to an end, and who had in consequence offered to wash up the
crockery at her pension in return for her board and lodging, and he told
her one morning that he had forty pounds saved up which she should have,
and welcome, if she was in need." The case of the bath-chair woman was
not less touching and generous, for she and her husband, a
crossing-sweeper, also put their savings at the disposal of an invalid
lady his wife used to wheel out every day, telling her that, though
their cottage was only small, they did possess a tiny spare room, and
they would be so glad if she would come to them as their honoured guest,
supposing--as at present seemed likely--the English would have to spend
the winter in Nauheim; they would indeed do their best to make her happy
and comfortable.[64]
On more than one occasion in the railway trains the "enemy" character of
Miss Littlefair and those who were with her was revealed, but no
unkindness was shown. The last occasion was in October, 1914. "'Shall
you have to travel farther, or does your journey end in Munich,' 'No,' I
said, 'we hope to go on to Switzerland to-morrow.' 'O, how delightful!
You are lucky. It is such a beautiful country. Tell me, are you
foreigners by any chance--American, or perhaps English?' she queried.
'English,' I replied. The truth was out, and I looked to see a change of
feeling reflected in her pleasant, winsome face; but her expression
remained as kind and as interested as before, and her manner as cordial,
so I told her more about ourselves, as there was no longer any need of
reserve, and she had told me so much of their affairs." There was, of
course, the usual patriotic bias, but it was expressed with real good
feeling. "'Of course, we don't hold the English people personally
responsible for the war,' she said, 'but we think that England[65] has
behaved very shabbily. It is very grieving, though, that the two
countries should be at war.' She had two or three English friends, and
told me about them till our arrival in Munich, where our confidences
were necessarily cut short, and we took an affectionate leave of one
another." (p. 123.)
The following incident also shows simple folk made clear-sighted by
kindness of heart: "On another occasion Christine and one of the ladies
in our hotel went into a shop to buy some beautiful lace which was being
sold at half-price. 'We have to sell it cheaply because of the war,'
explained the assistant: 'ach! it is terrible! We never wanted this war,
and I am sure you did not either. You and I are not enemies, it is
ridiculous. Let us shake hands to show we are friends. Yes!' And they
did."[66] Good! That handshake, let us hope, will outweigh many a
hysterical outburst on both sides.
An English schoolmaster was, with his wife and family, in Germany at the
outbreak of war. He testifies to the quite wonderful kindness he
received. Almost daily he was taken by his hosts to other houses, and at
the _Kaffeeklatsch_ which ensued there was never anything but a finely
chivalrous courtesy. So grateful did the schoolmaster feel that (just as
with Germans befriended here) he felt he must make some sort of return
to the "enemy." He explained the situation, and obtained permission to
take two interned enemy nationals into his house. They in their turn
felt that movement of gratitude which the preachers of hate refuse to
believe in. They wanted to make some return to the schoolmaster, for
schoolmasters are usually poor men. "If you do that," he said, "I shall
feel I am doing nothing." There was a dispute of kindness, and in the
end a _modus vivendi_ of gratitude was arrived at. How strange the
methods of force seem by comparison. The two men are now interned once
more--surely a sorry end to a story of such fine humanity.
From Mrs. K. Warmington: "There are two little instances that stand out
in my mind very clearly, and I think speak for themselves. The first
relates to an English lady, her husband, and her son, with whom I made
acquaintance at the English Consul's office. Later on I met the same
lady at the American Consul's office; she was in deep distress, as her
husband and son had been arrested and put into prison. Through the
influence of an American that we met at an hotel, we got a permit to go
and see a military commandant at the barracks to see if anything could
be done for them. When we arrived, he treated us most courteously, and
listened patiently to what we had to say. He rang a doctor up on the
telephone, and, as far as we could make out, told the doctor to examine
these men, and to pronounce them ill. He then turned to us, and told us
to return in the afternoon, when he would fetch them in his own
motor-car, which he did. He also gave us a paper asking the civil
authorities to do all they could to aid us to get away, shook hands, and
wished us a safe journey.
"The other instance relates more to myself. We were at Nüremberg,
Bavaria. We had permission to leave for Lindau, on the borders of Lake
Constance, on our way to Romanshorn in Switzerland. The journey was a
rather expensive one for me, as I had very little money, little more
indeed than a cheque, which was valueless. A young German, who was
shortly going into the Navy, whom I had known only about a month,
hearing of my case came to me, and gave me £9 in English gold to enable
me to travel more comfortably.
"My father was German, my mother English, and my husband English. I was
in Germany in 1914 from July 26 to August 26. As my son was of military
age, and I did not want him interned, I got what influence I could to
get him away. He was finally released at the end of August, and we were
allowed to go on to Switzerland."
In the course of 1915 an English born woman returned to her husband in
Munich. Her sister wrote to me of the extreme kindness with which this
lady was received by her German friends. Many English wives of interned
men have gone to Germany to their husband's families, and one hears the
same account of extreme kindness. In Offenbach alone there are twenty
English wives with forty English born children. _Special classes have
been opened for them._ After all, there are some German methods which
are worthy of imitation. There seems at times a danger of our imitating
what is _worst_ in our enemies, partly as a result of a desire to ignore
what is better.
The letter which follows appeared in the _Times_ of September 2, 1914:
Sir,--Various rumours are finding their way into the German
papers respecting the harsh treatment which certain Germans are
said to have received in England. We British subjects who are
being kindly and hospitably treated by Germans earnestly hope
that these reports are, at any rate, much exaggerated.
It is well that the British public should understand the
position of their fellow countrymen here. At the outbreak of the
war British subjects in out-of-the-way places were given safe
conducts to suitable centres, such as Baden-Baden, and there
allowed to choose places of abode according to their tastes and
means. Such restrictions as are put upon their movements are in
their own interests. The authorities have exhorted the
inhabitants publicly as well as by house to house visitations to
treat foreigners with respect and courtesy, taking pride in thus
proving their claim to a truly high standard of civilisation,
and the people have responded nobly to this appeal. Not only
have hotel and pension-keepers done everything in their power to
accommodate their visitors, at the most reduced prices, giving
credit in many instances, but several cases have come to our
notice in which Germans have housed and fed English women and
children, who were perfect strangers to them, out of pure
humanity and good feeling.
You, sir, can imagine how galling it must be to these people
when they read in their papers of the very different treatment
alleged to have been shown to Germans in England, and how
painful and humiliating a position is thereby created for us
here. England has hitherto enjoyed such a high reputation for
chivalry and hospitality that tales to the contrary cause
Germans a half incredulous shock. It it not too late for
England to prove that she is living up to her old standard and
that she refuses to be outdone in magnanimity towards the
stranger within her gates....
(A paragraph follows as to the means by which money can be sent
to Britons _via_ neutral countries.)
(Signed) DOROTHY ACTON (Lady).
F. BULLOCK-WEBSTER, M.A., Oxon, Resident Chaplain of
Baden-Baden.
WM. MACINTOSH, Dr. Ph., Resident English Chaplain,
Freiburg, i.B.
Baden-Baden,
August 20, 1914.
Some account may be given of a party of 190 Englishwomen and 14 children
who landed at Queenborough on September 22, 1914. (_Times_, September
23, 1914.) "... With one accord they spoke in terms of praise, both of
their treatment in Germany and of the kindness shown to them on the
journey.... 'We have received kindness everywhere,' said one of a party
from Dantzig. 'The Germans have been absolutely stunning to us.... I
have not heard of one English person being molested anywhere in
Germany.'" The Englishwomen did noble work on their part, especially for
the fugitives from East Prussia. "One Sunday we fed and clothed 290 who
had come in without a rag to their backs."
"I was arrested in Berlin as a Russian spy, because a bomb had been
found in the house next to mine, and because a woman in the street said
that she had seen me putting bombs in my hat-box, and that she had seen
me with a Russian. I did, as a matter of fact, know a Russian student,
but he was not the man she meant. I was taken to the police station and
searched twice in the same day. They kept me in prison for two days and
nights, giving me very bad food, and then they released me because they
had no real evidence against me. When I came out, strangely enough it
was German people who gave me hospitality until I was able to leave
Berlin."
Again, "The German women are crazy over our Scottish troops and their
kilts. Some of them used to go out and give the prisoners cigarettes,
chocolates and flowers, but that has been forbidden now."
A party of 178 who landed at Folkestone had varying stories to tell.
"Nothing could possibly be better than the treatment we have received,"
said one, "everybody--official, police and public--treated us with the
greatest kindness and the utmost courtesy." "The Germans are brutes,
absolute brutes," said another. Probably a third, who described both
statements as exaggerations, came nearer the average truth. One of this
same party described the kilts referred to above as causing matronly
indignation in Berlin.[67]
In the _Times_ of September 24, 1914, appeared a letter on the subject
of English exiles in Berlin:
I have read with interest and approval the statements of
Englishwomen who have returned from Germany, as reported in the
_Times_ to-day, with regard to the conduct of the German people.
As one of the party which arrived at Queensborough by the
special boat, I wish publicly to express my warm appreciation
not only of the considerate treatment which the people of Berlin
showed towards English people there, but particularly to the
splendid services rendered to us by the American Embassy, which
made all the arrangements for our return, and by the Consular
and municipal authorities in Holland, who supplied us with food
during our journey through that country.
May I add that I went about in Berlin as freely as I can now in
London, and that at no time since the outbreak of the war have I
seen a single British subject molested.
(Signed) L. TYRWHITT DRAKE.
Ladies' Imperial Club,
September 23.
Here also is a fact that should give us pause. In a prisoner camp at
Frankfurt a-Oder is a large building erected as a place of entertainment
and general meeting hall. It is used by Russian prisoners, and _a
considerable contribution towards its erection was collected by
house-to-house visitation in Frankfurt._ To appreciate this fact at its
true significance we must remember that Germany suffered from direct
invasion by Russia immediately on the outbreak of the war, and that all
the stories of atrocities and devastation that we heard of Belgium were
also told of East Prussia.
"An old friend of our family," a correspondent writes, "has been
residing in Bavaria over forty years. He is an artist, and married a
Bavarian lady. His eldest son is a doctor in London, and two of his
daughters are married in London, but the father has no difficulty in
getting permits to paint in the Austrian and German mountains, and still
finds a sale for his pictures in Germany."
Forty years is, I know, a long time, but not by any means always
sufficient to prevent persecution in the present war. On my writing
table is a little ivory elephant. It was carved by a German who had been
forty years in the service of one British firm. He was dismissed (a man
over seventy) because of the war. This is not a unique case. "N.S.,
clock-maker, who had been here thirty-nine years, and P.W., baker, fifty
years. (He had two sons at the front, and 'the longer he thought the
more the number of his English grandchildren grew.')" (See the Third
Report of the Emergency Committee for these and other cases).
I do not in the least wish to suggest that there has been little
kindness on this side and much on the other. I am simply trying to
restore the balance. So far (as is usual in war-time) the game of hatred
has been played with loaded dice. Let us welcome kindness everywhere.
Here, then, is a different kind of story from one of the Friends'
reports:
A young man, smart and erect three months ago when he was in
employment, intelligent, speaks and writes four languages, with
excellent references, now but a sad wreck, wants to go to South
Africa, where he has friends, but, alas! the permit is
refused--has written abroad to his father, who is in a good
position, for money, but it takes so long to get a reply. His
English landlady, though poor, "has been so kind," he had his
last dinner three days ago from her. We give temporary help, but
if this money does not come before January 1 he will have to go
into camp. Quite willing to do so, "but can we not give his poor
landlady something?"
The kind landladies and other kind hearts exist, thank God, on both
sides.[68] To enquire on which side there are most would (even if we
could do so without bias) probably be profitless. The important point is
that the kind hearts on the other side are there, and that a brotherhood
of blessing will help the world more than a brotherhood of revenge--if,
indeed, this last could be any brotherhood at all.
Miss G. H. writes: "I am particularly anxious to do something for
interned Germans. For four months of the war I was in Germany with my
mother, sister, nephew and niece, and we were all most kindly treated
and helped in every possible way both by friends, by my lawyer, my
banker and the neighbouring peasants. Also by all the guards and waiters
along our journey on November 21. Friends, peasants, and my lawyer are
still looking after my property in Germany, and I have left everything
in the hands of a neighbouring peasant, who sends me accounts of it. I
would like to be able to do some kind acts here in return, and for the
furtherance of better relationships later on." Yet it can never be
pleasant to be in an "enemy" country. Miss H. writes further: "In spite
of having such unspeakable sympathy, really understanding sympathy,
shown me by not only friends, but the common people--though I hardly
like using this term, as no one with so much fellow feeling could really
be termed common--in spite of this kindness, I know so well how one can
suffer. Over there _we_ are looked upon in the same way that Germans are
looked upon here, as quite outside the pale of common morality. Fully
realising what this must mean for me, these kindly Germans would go off
into a day dream of wonderment as to how _they_ might feel in a similar
plight, and one ended up with the reflection, 'Ja, es ist halt jetzt die
Zeit der Märtyrer' (it is indeed the time of the martyrs once more)."
Surely there is something strangely poignant about the convinced and
steadfast martyrdom and self-sacrifice of both sides. Surely the peoples
who can thus offer themselves in destroying each other must both have
noble gifts to give together one day in a nobler cause.
The following is from the _Nation_ (Jan. 19, 1918):
A clergyman sends me the following. I think it best to publish
the story as it stands:--
"Some years before the outbreak of war there lived in a certain
German town, now frequently raided by air squadrons, an old
Englishwoman. She was a semi-invalid; difficult and
cantankerous. Subject to illusions, she imagined that the good
nuns, who received her as an unremunerative paying guest, were
in league against her mangy, but beloved dog. Yet both she and
her dog continued to receive the half-humorous tolerance of
their benefactors.
"Then came the 4th of August, 1914, and Miss X. passed into the
mists of war.
"A year later she emerged from the mists.
"A letter came, forwarded through a neutral in Switzerland; but
the letter was not from the pen of Miss X. It had been dictated.
Briefly, it said: 'I am bed-ridden and almost blind. I have
hardly anything to live upon; and the Germans will not let me
go.'
"Certain details were added which clearly established identity
to the recipient of the letter. There followed, on the same
sheet of paper, and in the same handwriting, a postscript: 'Sir,
I have taken this poor Englishwoman into my house. How can she
live on 10 marks a month?
Yours, Fräulein ...'
"Intervened the British Foreign Office and the American
Embassy. Then came another letter: 'Sir, your efforts have not
been in vain....
Fräulein ...'
"But that is not the end of this incident of war. 'Hate.' had
still its 'uses.'
"'Sir. I thank you for your good letter and your very kind
question. All is paid, hospital and funeral. There were 30 marks
left to have the grave a little arranged.
Fräulein ...'"
My correspondent adds the following comment: "I was an enemy,
and ye took me in."
In Vienna newspapers there were in 1915 many advertisements in which
French, English, and Russian natives offer their services as teachers,
thus:
London Lady (Diploma) gives lessons.--L. Balman, VI Bez.
Gumpendorferstrasse 5, Th. 14.
Frenchman and Frenchwoman give instruction in French.--VIII,
Lerchengasse 10.
An Irishwoman, brought up in England, gives lessons.--Letters to
Miss Morris.
Such advertisements, we learn from the _International Review_ of July,
1915, appear daily in Vienna.