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.
From Die Hilfe, June 22, 1915: “in a weekly concert in Noyon the collaborators were Prof. Rivière, Sergeant Bonhoff, and Director Günzel. The performance of the Frenchman from an organ composition of his own was most effective.” There are, of course, also exhibitions of narrow-mindedness. In Halle the police forbade a performance because one of those who took part was an “enemy alien.” (Vorwärts, June 1, 1915.) On the other hand, when some Italian musicians complained of unjust dismissal, the court awarded them damages of 700 marks. The Volksstimme, of Frankfurt a.M., June 8, 1915, writing of Italy, deprecates any hatred of Italians. As soon as the responsible authorities had decided on war, obedience was the duty of each Italian citizen, just as of each German.[69] This outspoken deference to “responsible authority” is characteristically German, but the doctrine is here applied with great fairness. Some of our militarists apply it less fairly. And, alas, when the Italian Avanti published an article “Against the Blunders of International Hate,” the wisdom of the Censor caused it to be largely blanked out. The Censors seem to have strict orders to keep us hating each other.[70]