THE IRON HAND IN ALSACE-LORRAINE
The state of affairs in Alsace-Lorraine is one of Germany's moat
carefully hidden secrets.
In the first months of the war I heard so much talk in
Germany--talk based upon articles in the Press--of how the
Alsatians, like the rest of the Kaiser's subjects, "rushed to the
defence of the Fatherland," that I was filled with curiosity to go
and see for myself if they had suddenly changed. I could hardly
believe that they had, for I had studied conditions in the "lost
provinces" before the war.
Still, the Wilhelmstrasse propaganda was convincing millions that
the Alsatians received the French very coldly when they invaded the
province to Mulhouse, and that they greeted the German troops most
heartily when they drove back the invader. Indeed, Alsatian
fathers were depicted as rushing into the streets to cheer the
German colours, while their wives and daughters "were so beside
themselves with joy that they hung upon the necks of the brave
German Michaels, hailing them as saviours."
A pretty picture of the appreciation of the blessings of German
rule, but was it true?
Some months later in Paris, when I stood in the Place de la
Concorde before the Monument of Strassburg, covered with new
mourning wreaths and a British flag now added, I felt an
irresistible yearning to visit the closely guarded region of
secrecy and mystery.
On my subsequent trip to Germany I planned and planned day after
day how I could get into Alsace and go about studying actual
conditions there. When I told one American consul that I wished to
go to Strassburg to see things for myself, he threw up his hands
with a gesture of despair and reminded me that not an American or
other consulate was allowed in Alsace-Lorraine, even in peace time.
When I replied that I was determined to go he looked grave, and
said earnestly: "Remember that you are going into a damn bad
country, and you go at your own, risk."
It is extremely difficult for Germans, to say nothing of
foreigners, to enter the fortress-city of Strassburg. Business
must be exceedingly urgent, and a military pass is required. A
special pass is necessary to remain over night.
How did I get into Strassburg in war-time?
That is my own story, quite a simple one, but I do not propose to
tell it now except by analogy, in order not to get anybody into
trouble.
During my last voyage across the ocean, which was on the Dutch
liner _Rotterdam_, I went into the fo'castle one day to talk to a
stowaway, a simple young East Prussian lad, who had gone to sea and
had found himself in the United States at the outbreak of war.
"How on earth did you manage to pass through the iron-clad
regulations at the docks of Hoboken (New York) without a permit,
and why did you do it?" I asked.
"I was home-sick," he answered, "and I wanted to go back to Germany
to see my mother. I got on board quite easily. I noticed a
gentleman carrying his own baggage, and I said to him, 'Can I carry
your suitcases on board, sir?'"
Once on board his knowledge of ships told him how to hide.
Having myself stood for more than two hours on the quay in a long
and growling queue of passengers, I could not but be amused by the
simple device by which this country youth had outwitted the
stringent war embarkation regulations of war-time New York. He was
in due course taken off by the British authorities at Falmouth, and
is now probably enjoying the sumptuous diet provided at the
Alexandra Palace or the Isle of Man.
Well, that is not exactly how I got into Strassburg, but I got in.
Night had fallen when I crossed the Rhine from Baden. I was
conscious of an indescribable thrill when my feet touched the soil
so sacred to all Frenchmen, and I somehow felt as if I were walking
in fairyland as I pushed on in the dark. I had good fortune,
arising from the fact that a great troop movement was taking place,
with consequent confusion and crowding.
On all sides from the surrounding girdle of forts the searchlights
swept the sky, and columns of weary soldiers tramped past me on
that four-mile road that led into Strassburg. I kept as close to
them as possible with some other pedestrians, labourers returning
from the great electric power plant.
Presently I was alone on the road when suddenly a soldier lurched
from the shadows and accosted me. I let him do the talking. But
there was no need to be alarmed; he was only a drunken straggler
who had got separated from his company and wanted to know whether
any more troops were coming on.
I had already passed through two cordons of functionaries outside,
and felt little fear in Strassburg itself, so long as I was duly
cautious. I had thought out my project carefully. I realised that
I must sleep in the open; for, unprovided with a pass it was
impossible for me to go to an hotel. Thankful that I was familiar
with my surroundings I wended my way to the beautiful park, the
Orangerie, where I made myself comfortable in a clump of bushes and
watched the unceasing flash of searchlights criss-cross in the sky
until I fell asleep.
Next day I continued my investigations, but in Alsace as elsewhere
my personal adventures are of no importance to the world unless, as
in some instances, they throw light on conditions or are necessary
to support statements made, whereas the facts set down belong to
the history of the war. Therefore I shall here summarise what I
found in the old French province.
The Germans have treated Alsace-Lorraine ruthlessly since the
outbreak of war is no part of the Empire is the iron hand so
evident. In Strassburg itself all signs of the French have
disappeared. Readers who know the place well will remark that they
were vanishing before the war. Externally they have now gone
altogether, but the hearts and spirit of the people are as before.
What I saw reminded me of the words of a Social Democrat friend in
Berlin, who told me that the Prussian Government determined, at the
beginning of the war that they would have no more Alsace-Lorraine
problem in the future.
They have, therefore, sent the soldiers from these two provinces to
the most dangerous places at the various fronts. One Alsace
regiment was hurled again and again at the old British Army on the
Yser in November, 1914, until at the end of a week only three
officers and six men were left alive. Some of the most perilous
work at Verdun, was forced upon the Alsatians.
The Prussian authorities deliberately retain with the colours
Alsatians and Lorrainers unfit for military service, and wounded
men are not allowed to return to their homes.
In the little circle to which I was introduced in Strassburg I
talked with one sorrowing woman, who said that her son, obviously
in an advanced state of tuberculosis, had been called up in spite
of protests. He died within three weeks. Another young man,
suffering from haemorrhage of the lungs, was called up. He was
forced to stand for punishment all one winter's day in the snow.
In less than two months a merciful death in a military hospital
released him from the Prussian clutch.
The town of Strassburg is a vast hospital. I do not think I have
ever seen so many Red Cross flags before. They waved from the
Imperial Palace, the public library, the large and excellent
military hospitals, the schoolhouses, hotels, and private
residences. The Orangerie is thronged with convalescent wounded,
and when hunger directed my steps to the extensive Park Restaurant
I found it, too, converted into a hospital. Even the large concert
room was crowded with cots.
The glorious old sandstone Cathedral, with its gorgeous facade and
lace-like spire, had a Red Cross flag waving over the nave while a
wireless apparatus was installed on the spire. Sentries paced
backwards and forwards on the uncompleted tower, which dominates
the region to the Vosges.
The whole object of Prussia is to eliminate every vestige of French
influence in the two provinces. The use of the French language,
whether in speech or writing, is strictly forbidden. To print,
sell, offer for sale, or purchase anything in French is to commit a
crime. Detectives are everywhere on the alert to discover
violations of the law. All French trade names have been changed to
their German equivalents. For example, the sign _Guillaume Rondee,
Tailleur_, has come down, and if the tradesman wants to continue in
his business _Wilhelm Rondee, Schneider_, must go up. He may have
a quantity of valuable business forms or letter-heads in
French--even if they contain only one French word they must be
destroyed. And those intimate friends who are accustomed to
address him by his first name must bear in mind that it is
_Wilhelm_.
Eloise was a milliner at the outbreak of the war. Today, if she
desires to continue her business, she is obliged to remove the
final "e" and thus Germanise her name.
After having been fed in Berlin on stories of Alsatian loyalty to
the Kaiser, I was naturally puzzled by these things. If Guillaume
had rushed into the street to cheer the German colours when the
French were driven back, and Eloise had hung upon the neck of the
German Michael, was it not rather ungrateful of the Prussians
subsequently to persecute them even to the stamping out of their
names? Not only that, but to be so efficient in hate that even
inscriptions on tombstones may no longer be written in French?
Alsace-Lorraine is to be literally _Elsass-Lothringen_ to the last
detail.
The truth of the matter is that the Alsatians greeted the French as
deliverers and were depressed when they fell back. This, as might
be expected, exasperated Prussia, for it was a slap in the face for
her system of government by oppression. Thus, at the very time
that the _Nachrichtendienst_ (News Service) connected with the
Wilhelmstrasse was instructing Germans and neutrals that the
Alsatians' enthusiastic reception of German troops was evidence of
their approval of German rule, the military authorities were
posting quite a different kind of notice in Alsace, a notice which
reveals the true story.
"During the transport of French prisoners of war a portion of the
populace has given expression to a feeling of sympathy for these
prisoners and for France. This is to inform all whom it may
concern that such expressions of sympathy are criminal and
punishable, and that, should they again, take place, the persons
taking part in them will be proceeded against by court-martial, and
the rest of the inhabitants will be summarily deprived of the
privileges they now enjoy.
"All crowding around prisoners of war, conversations with them,
cries of welcome and demonstrations of sympathy of all kinds, as
well as the supply of gifts, is strictly prohibited. It is also
forbidden to remain standing while prisoners are being conducted or
to follow the transport."
The result of the persecution of the French-speaking portion of the
population has been a boomerang for Prussia. The Germans of the
region, most of whom never cared much for Prussia, are now bitterly
hostile to her, and thus it is that all citizens of Alsace, whether
French or German, who go into other parts of Germany are under the
same police regulations as alien enemies.
In order to permit military relentlessness to proceed smoothly
without any opposition, the very members of the local Parliament,
the Strassburg Diet, are absolutely muzzled. They have been
compelled to promise not to criticise at any time, or in any way,
the military control; otherwise their Parliament will be closed.
As for the local Councils, they are not allowed to discuss any
political questions whatsoever. A representative of the police is
present at every meeting to enforce this rule to the letter.
The people do not even get the sugared Reichstag reports, as does
the rest of Germany. These are specially re-censored at Mulhouse.
The official reports of the General Staff are often days late, and
sometimes do not appear at all. In no part of the war zone is
there so much ignorance about what is happening at the various
fronts as in the two "lost provinces."
Those who do not sympathise with Germany in her career of conquest
upon which she so joyfully and ruthlessly embarked in August, 1914,
may well point to Alsace-Lorraine as an argument against the
probability of other peoples delighting in the rule which she would
force upon them.
She has become more intolerant, not less, in the old French
provinces. It will be recalled that by the Treaty of Frankfurt,
signed in March, 1871, they became a "Reichsland," that is, an
Imperial Land, not a self-governing State like Bavaria, Saxony, or
Wurttemberg. As Bismarck bluntly and truly said to the Alsatian
deputies in the Reichstag: "It is not for _your_ sakes nor in
_your_ interests that we conquered you, but in the interests of the
Empire."
For more than forty years Prussia has employed every means but
kindness to Germanise the conquered territory. But though she has
hushed every syllable of French in the elementary schools and
forced the children to learn the German language and history only;
though freedom of speech, liberty of the Press, rights of public
meeting, have been things unknown; though even the little children
playing at sand castles have been arrested and fined if in their
enthusiasm they raised a tiny French flag, or in the excitement of
their mock contest cried "Vive la France!"; though men and women
have been fined and thrown into prison for the most trifling
manifestations that they had not become enthusiastic for their
rulers across the Rhine; and though most of the men filling
Government positions--and they are legion--are Prussians, the
Alsatians preserve their individuality and remain uncowed.
Having failed in two score of years to absorb them by force,
Prussia during the war has sought by scientific methods carried to
any extreme to blot out for ever themselves and their spirit.
To do the German credit, I believe that he is sincere when he
believes that his rule would be a benefit to others and that he is
genuinely perplexed when he discovers that other people do not like
his regulations. The attitude which I have found in Germany
towards other nationalities was expressed by Treitschke when he
said, "We Germans know better what is good for Alsace than the
unhappy people themselves."
The German idea of how she should govern other people is an
anachronism. This idea, which I have heard voiced all over
Germany, was aptly set forth before the war by a speaker on "The
Decadence of the British Empire," when he sought to prove such
decadence by citing the fact that there was only one British
soldier to every 4,000 of the people of India. "Why," he
concluded, "Germany has more soldiers in Alsace-Lorraine alone than
Great Britain has in all India."
That is a bad spirit for the world, and it is a bad spirit for
Germany. She herself will receive one great blessing from the war
if it is hammered out of her.