Agent of Peace

by Jennifer Hobhouse Balme

  Brussels gallery anyhow is untouched. Stocked as thick as the walls can hold with beautiful works of art. Climbing the long stairs had made it impossible for me to enjoy them.

  After lunch the Baron said he was so busy at the office that he wanted me to come and sit in the Reading Room of the Political Department and read English newspapers. Having nothing whatever to read or write I was thankful for the suggestion and to my astonishment I found there The Times, Morning Post, and Manchester Guardian of June 13. I asked with surprise how these could be so quickly in Brussels – and at first my Baron was going to tell me, but suddenly recollected he must not and said nothing. I said it seemed impossible that they could come in that time from Holland – and from his manner I judge they come in some other way. However, I sat there and read for a couple of hours, glad enough of the news, but dreadfully depressed by the English attitude too apparent and absolutely contrary to Peace ideas. It was particularly distressing to read our Press there in the midst of the enemy and see it with their eyes.

  A German civilian came in and sat down beside me to read. An oldish man, who spoke politely telling me he had lived much in England and how he bewailed this war and what a disastrous mistake it was. The same story everywhere – whenever I have met Germans all felt and feel that war with England was contrary to their wishes and against their every feeling – and never should have been.

  We wandered out and the sun getting the upper hand for a bit, we went down the long hill to the beautiful and historic Square. On my way I bought chamois leather to cover my back and arm. In the Square with its gilded architecture not a stone was touched – indeed, Brussels is without a scratch.

  That ended my day and I resolved if the Berlin reply did not come, to go to Dinant on the following day.

  Friday, June 16th Again, the most awful weather. Cold intense, but more bearable with my woolen vest and chamois leather girdings. Dinant impossible – it would have been madness - and worst of all no word from Berlin. I felt in despair, for I had been so restricted in Belgium that my trip would have availed little if I did not get to Berlin. However, my faith in it would not give way for from the outset of the war I had always intuitively felt that one day I should go both to Belgium and Berlin and speak face to face with the members of the government.

  We waited a lucid moment to walk first to the Political Department then to Capt. Bruhn’s who was out – and now and again passing those mournful queues standing in the bitter cold and wet. At last I gave in and promised to do as my Baron wished, viz visit the wonderful antediluvian animals in the Natural History Museum about which he raved. I hated spending a modicum of my slender strength on such things at this moment. About 3 p.m. we went; it was a very long way in the tram and then a stiffish walk uphill through the park, but certainly the skeletons were wonderful and I am glad to have seen them, tired though I was. They are found not far from Charleroi. My Baron was much excited over them. We saw quite another part of the town and found everything in statu quo. He supped with me that evening and we were both depressed.

  Notes

  * Baron von der Lancken was chief of the Political Department.

  ** The Battle of Jutland.

  * The Aide Mémoire and other papers were left with Gertrude Woker to be retrieved after the war. They have not been found with Emily’s papers.

  1. EH Journal vol. 1 p. 27–vol. 2 p. 14

  8

  EMILY’S JOURNAL: BERLIN

  T o me Emily’s visit to Berlin is extraordinary. We see her as she really is – a very remarkable and unusual woman.

  One has only to look at her achievement. She arrives in Berlin on a Sunday morning. She knows little of the language. She has one address, that of Elisabeth Rotten who took care of the welfare of the internees. That address turned out to be wrong, and yet in five days she manages to see the chief people to do with social welfare and feeding; she sees the Foreign Secretary and discerns that he is willing to talk peace, and produces a plan of how such talks could begin without loss of face, to which he agrees (but does not wish the British to know he has agreed); she visits the camp for civilian internees and produces a plan for their release – or internment in a neutral country if of military age; she meets with leading and influential pacifists – which the political department specifically did not want her to do; in politics, she meets a leading socialist and also meets a leading pastor; and she manages to keep her German ‘captors’ happy, and she is meant to be an invalid. She leaves Berlin on the Thursday evening.

  Although one could consider Emily to be lenient towards the foe, this is not a ‘mischievous old woman’ as the Foreign Office or Scotland Yard would like to call her, nor a traitor. This is a highly intelligent, well-organised woman, who knows what she wants. Her attitude has changed. She sees the young men going to the Front and she knows there is a lot of heartbreak to come.

  The Journal continues, still in Brussels:1

  [Saturday, June 17th] I had expected him early [her escort, Baron Falkenhausen] but he tarried and I was getting anxious when suddenly towards 10.30 a.m. he appeared with radiant face to say the answer had come and we were to go [to Berlin]. We must leave at 3 p.m. that day. I said half an hour would pack my little box but I must get some food for the journey. So out we went, shopping as usual making him cross and we bought wine, eggs (39 centimes), cheese, butter, chocolate biscuits – none of it so dear as I had thought and I hastened home to lunch, pack and prepare while he went to get our passports all in good order.

  At 2.30 p.m. he appeared, my bill was paid, and I was ready for him and we walked down to the station. It was the eve of [the anniversary of] the Battle of Waterloo, the wind had subsided and all looked very fair as we left. He was radiant and we both had the sense of being children let out of school. We took 1st class tickets and got a ‘ladies’ carriage and no one disturbed us all the way to Berlin. I looked my last on Louvain as we passed it and on Liège and the village of Doulain and the ruined house on the crag and then we ran into Herbestal and lo! Belgium with her many woes was left behind us. One felt so free in Germany by comparison. The Customs gave us no trouble and soon we glided on to Aachen. The spires were pretty against the evening sky – but I noticed that both there and everywhere else the factory chimneys were idle. I realized the blockade. I thought of Charlemagne buried there and wished I could have visited his grave as my ancestor. This I said out loud to the Baron who was a bit struck all of a heap that I claimed such Imperial descent – and immediately began to tell me that his family was descended from Hohenzollerns though it turned out to be a side branch and by a morganatic marriage …

  He often chatted of his family and his visits to England, his friend there, Lord Wodehouse, and the Quickes in particular and the cruel blow of the war which had destroyed all his ideals. As we sped on, he pointed out the crops, green and flourishing – and at last about 10.30 p.m. as dark was falling, we rushed into the vast crowd of soldiers that filled Cologne station. It was packed. The Baron wanted to divert my attention from this sight (I had already seen it twice) and tried to drop hints about it and that Cologne always was full of men in this way. I said nothing, but of course I knew well enough the troops were massing for the Western Front and already twice before I had seen Cologne station thus packed with soldiers. Night fell as we left the station and hearing we were to have coffee at Magdeburg settled in for the night – a short night. The grey dawn saw me sitting up to watch the great northern plains of Prussia and to look at her silent factories and her well-cultivated fields. They were waving with the green corn looking on the whole in very fair condition. Then came Magdeburg and some very fair coffee and not dear. Everywhere cleanliness and order and every individual busy. Cheerful faces and many smiles, but no noise or laughter – a certain calm confidence. Then we flew past Potsdam – all so well arranged and ordered and uninteresting and then in no time we were in Berlin.

  My Baron was all on the qui vive. He stretched his head out of the window very far, and I looked
the other way. He cried: ‘There she is’ and rushed out of the carriage where I discreetly remained. However, they weren’t a bit shy and soon began it again, quite like a couple of English or any other nationality. He introduced me and I found a very sweet girl with lovely eyes and a soft voice and quite delicious English. I felt friends with her at once.

  He had decided to put me into the Fürstenhof but he and his wife were going to another Hotel which they always patronized and apparently he did not think it necessary to be always with me. I was thankful. It was only about 8 a.m. and I was glad to get a comfortable room and a good supplementary breakfast.

  The Hotel was very comfortable and rather smart. My room was 10 marks a day (ruinous for me) but it had a private telephone to all Berlin and the book and hot water tap and self-emptying basin, and every convenience – and a balcony. My breakfast was excellent coffee, sufficient hot milk, two small pieces of war bread, one small roll, one pat of butter like a fat half crown and a good portion of excellent jam, and a little sugar. Brought to the room, this only cost M.1.50. The bread I never could finish and kept half for tea; the sugar I never take so the waiter asked leave not to bring it next morning. It was exquisitely served. (At the Westminster Palace Hotel for the same breakfast, but not served in my room and the items of poor quality instead of first class, and roughly served instead of delicately, I pay 2s.) The Hotel staff was almost entirely young men of military age – one could have raised a small company in that house alone.

  We separated for rest and refreshment and at 10 a.m. back came my Baron to take me to the Kommandatur and I had my first drive through Berlin. I saw the Reichstag and turned under the archway into Unter der [den] Linden – a street of great disappointment to me for I had dreamed of an avenue of old and beautiful limes – with gnarled massy trunks such as used to form the avenue in front of St James Palace leading to Buckingham Palace and lo! there were only small inferior young trees mostly in cages still, like the newest street of a newly built suburb! It’s a short street and has many restaurants and he pointed out the Embassies and the Royal Palace and so on and we got down at the Kommandatur. This gentleman is the Civil head, I believe, of the Berlin City Military body. I don’t know exactly what it’s called. He heard very sympathetically my reasons for visiting Berlin, noted that I wished to see Ruhleben, stamped my passport to frank me and assured me I need not then report myself daily to the Police. He wished all success to my work and said a few words in regard to his sorrow that England was fighting them. He shook hands very warmly.

  We walked away – I was half in a dream and half dead with fatigue. We walked down Unter der [den] Linden to a restaurant where the Baroness was to meet us. I wished, as one means of studying the food position, to sample public places of every class. We began in a choice place where the ‘best’ people dined. It was very good and everyone seemed cheerful, especially the manager who was ubiquitous and most obliging. Here, to my surprise, we met Count Harrach, who it then transpired had also come to Berlin and was also staying at my hotel. I do not think however that he was there to exercise the least surveillance over me – I did not see him again till casually the day I was leaving.

  I had an excellent omelet containing chicken livers – beautifully made and I think a green vegetable – and some fruit. I remember thinking it very cheap. My companions I noticed began with small lobsters or crayfish perhaps of which great quantities seem eaten in Berlin. But I believe they went on to meat, only as I came away, I do not feel sure. I felt a great desire to get away and be alone and to feel freedom once more, so I boldly excused myself, assuring the party that I could find my way home alone. They were a bit unwilling but I shewed myself determined, feeling that I was now under no parole and as free as any other Englishwoman, even more so. I think ’twas a bit difficult for the two officers fresh from Belgium strictness to shake off that attitude of mind. Nevertheless, the fact that they wanted to be alone and enjoy themselves helped.

  So I shook them off and found myself bowed into the street by the polite Manager – free the first time for twelve days. I thought I would stroll home, rest a while and then try and find Elisabeth Rotten.*

  It was wonderful feeling myself alone in Berlin – in the very heart of the Country with which we were at war. I found my way back easily to the hotel and rested an hour with great comfort. Then I tried to find a cab to take me to Dr. Rotten’s office in Friedenstrasse. All in vain – the few taxis were engaged, the still fewer horse cabs loathe to take so long a drive – one at last was willing but at such a charge I hesitated. Then it occurred to me to try and telephone to her. There was a ’phone in my room but alas! that first day I found it very difficult to understand or be understood through a telephone – I failed.

  Suddenly I conceived the idea of writing to Herr von Jagow direct to announce to him my arrival in Berlin, to thank him for the permission afforded – to say how much I could have wished to thank him in person, desiring to do all that any one individual could do to bring our two Countries to a better understanding. I posted this and early the following morning by Express received a warm welcome to see him that evening.

  I went out after writing and wandered a little about the town watching the people and wondering what link I could find. Then I took supper at the hotel and I think the Baron and his wife looked in to say Goodnight and told me my visit to Ruhleben was fixed for Wednesday [probably Tuesday as it was later postponed] and that he would call for me at midday on Monday to take me to luncheon. I went to bed with the sun streaming across me, glad of a long night and anxiously wondering how to make the most of my visit and find links. How else could I study the Food Question and its effects on women and children? How I cursed my ignorance of German.

  I found afterwards that Elisabeth Rotten had changed her address – hence the difficulty of telephoning.

  Monday, June 19th I rose early much refreshed and determined to make the fullest use of my day. The Baron had agreed to call at 10 o’clock but to my relief rang me up to suggest noon instead – so I was free and went out. I secured a taxi and drove to Friedenstrasse. There I found Dr. Rotten had moved her office to Montbijou Platz and I drove there, keeping the taxi all the morning as they are scarce. It cost 12 marks. There I mounted a long flight of stairs and found myself in the office of the German twin to our Emergency Committee. I fell on them like a bombshell, this group of young women – fallen from the skies. We fell on each other’s necks with joy. To me it was like native air to be with them and to know I could speak as I felt. Unfortunately, it was a frightfully busy week for them for they were arranging the meeting in Prince Lichnowsky’s* house which took place the Wednesday. They understood at once all I wanted to do and to see and to know and at once suggested ’phoning Dr. Alice Salomon** for leave to see her Arbeiterinnenheim.*** Frl. Bölle took me, a very sweet girl who had become a keen Internationalist, and the taxi whisked us away. I was to see the needy working women at dinner – so first I had to telephone to my Baron to say I could not be back at my hotel at noon but would come later. It was delicious to hear what a turmoil he was in, anxiously questioning where I was and what I was doing, etc., etc. I replied I could not explain well through the ’phone – but I was doing the work I came to do. He was perturbed and, I felt, desired to limit my freedom. Later I learned from him that the War Office had given him orders that I was not to see anyone – but I held to it that I was not under parole as in Belgium and it would defeat the object of my visit. For what could I do in England if I told them I had only seen Soldiers and Officials? I stuck to it that I must see folk representative of every section, etc. He agreed to this in private capacity but evidently his military duty perturbed his conscience. I made up my mind to say nothing but to go my own way. (But this is forestalling.)

  Frl Bölle chatted to me as we drove along, pointing out the queues of impatient women standing outside the meat shops – and giving me details of the conditions relating to food. We saw the bedrooms, the kitchens, the dining rooms, and th
e people feeding or coming for food. It was close on 12 o’clock and they offered me my luncheon there. I accepted and had an excellent dish of potatoes, vegetables and thick gravy – the meat, of course, I did not take as I never do. Bread too. The whole meal was 30 pfennings – 3d – and tasty and well-cooked. Those who could not afford it had tickets from the Municipality. The matron was very friendly. I fancy they thought me an American. I dropped the Fräulein where she wished to go – a sweet girl – I hope we may meet again – and drove back to the hotel.

  There I found von Jagow’s letter welcoming me at 6 o’clock and there shortly appeared my poor Baron rather huffy to enquire what I had been doing. Fortunately, his sweet young wife was with him so not much was said. They were going to lunch to meet Herr Rieth of the Foreign Office who wished to meet me and were a bit upset that I had lunched. I explained that that did not matter, I could go with them and take a cup of coffee and see another class of restaurant and be introduced to Herr Rieth. The day was gusty and there were showers.

  I then told the Baron that I had written to von Jagow and that I was to see him in the evening – whereat he at once said he must accompany me. We then all went together to the restaurant in the Leipziger Strasse where Herr Rieth met us. I took coffee only, good and moderate in price – and I noticed again that they eat lobster. Herr Rieth was very chatty and friendly, but all the same I did not take to him. He was to make the arrangements for the visit to Ruhleben.