Amongst the politicians I saw in Berlin was a little group of German Nationalists. The most distinguished of them was the uncle of my gentle Swedish friend, a scholar of international reputation whom the great Universities of this country delighted to honour before the war, Professor Wilamowitz-Moellendorf. He is a proud and gentle old man, whose white hair only gives the impression of many years, with a grave scholarly manner, and an air of great distinction. His reasonable and proper regret was that scholarship and culture should have steeped itself in the vulgar passions of the slum and the gutter during the years of war, forgetting their dignity and worth in the disgusting welter of political hates. All the time his speech about England was courteous and kind, and though his Oxford friends had given him just cause for resentment, he kept his happier memories of her green. His was not the anger of that other scholar, Herr Edouard Meyer, half mad with the sense of injustice and wrong.
This little group of German Nationalists met me in the splendid lobby of one of the big Berlin hotels, and in a quiet corner we discussed the then political situation and the ominous signs of the times. There was the usual keen interest in the Russian adventure. Professor Wilamowitz-Moellendorf was not present on this occasion.
The most remarkable personality of the group was a tall soldierly man whose stern expression of face and grey hair were possible relics of bitter war experiences. After a few idle phrases in complimentary vein, he turned suddenly upon me and demanded fiercely: “Mrs. Snowden, why have you come to Germany?”
The sudden question startled me, but I concealed my surprise and replied: “Ever since the publication of the Peace Treaty I have been trying to come to Germany to tell the people here that there are men and women in England who do not break their pledged word and who want a square deal even for their foes. I want to shake hands with everybody here who is willing, along with us, to help to mend a broken world.”
His reply was startling: “When I came into the room just now I shook hands with you and I am still suffering from the surprise of it. I had taken a vow that never again would I touch the hand of an English person, man or woman. I had believed in your nation. I had thought it would honour its pledged word. I was foolish enough to think that British statesmen meant what they said, and that Wilson’s programme was seriously intended. I was wrong. I made that vow. And I took your hand just now. I was wrong again.”
“I think I understand,” I murmured. “In the same circumstances I should have felt as you feel.”
“Do you understand, I wonder? Do you understand that for us Germans there is nothing left but black despair? Do you realize that our children are dying of hunger? Do you understand that our young men have no careers open to them? Do you understand the pain of being spat upon, the torment of being thrust down every time you attempt to rise? Do you know what it is to be robbed of your faith in idealism, your belief in goodness, your hope for mankind? I find it difficult to believe that you understand.”
The pain in his voice, the look in his eyes hurt. He went on: “If there is any gleam of hope for Germany to be found anywhere it lies in religion. No, no,” he said hastily, noting my glance of inquiry, “I do not mean the Churches, although there must be Churches to give form and substance to the thing. The Churches must remain, but they must be reformed and reformed from within. By religion I mean that looking and striving upwards for better things without which the world perishes. If my unhappy people can lay hold again of that and keep it, there may be a little hope for them. For myself there is no hope. Everything is gone. My country is utterly destroyed. There is nothing left to live for, unless”—and here a new and fiercer light came into his tired eyes—“unless after all the Communists are pointing the way. Russia’s untold millions and our officers. It may be so.”
He was quiet for a moment. “I do not like Communism. I do not want to see Communism in Germany But when our position is so bad that nothing we can do will make it worse and something we may do might make it better, what would you?”