Through Europe on the eve of war; a record of personal experiences; including an account of the first world conference of the churches for international peace

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A Record of Personal Experiences; Including an Account of the First World Conference of The Churches for International Peace

FREDERICK LYNCH. DJ

Chapter I. The First Fruits Of The War

On Saturday morning, August 1st, at three o'clock. Dr. Charles S. Macfarland, Secretary of the Federal Council of Churches, and I were sleeping soundly in one of the comfortable compartments of the cars belonging to the International Sleeping Car Company, when we were suddenly seized by the shoulders by the guard and shaken out of our deep slumbers. "Get out as fast as you can," he said. "The Germans have blown up the track on the frontier just ahead of us and seized three French engines, and the quicker we get out of this the better." This was our first taste of war!

Not altogether our first personal touch with it, though. For on the preceding evening we had witnessed heartbreaking scenes, and we had been in Paris three days and had observed conditions on the streets and in the cafes. But the most pathetic scene of all was that in the Care de I'Est. Our train was to leave at 9:15 Friday evening for Basel. We imagined that there would be a crowd, for the German Government had sent out an order that day for every German to get out of Paris immediately. This was one of those ominous things that made all Europe begin to distrust Germany, even when she was talking peace. When we reached the station, an hour before train time, the scene was most pitiable. The whole place was packed and jammed with a great mob of poor Germans fleeing from Paris. One could hardly pick his way through the confused mass of men, women, children and baggage. There were no porters to help, and the fathers and mothers were trying to carry all their baggage and babies together, while the poor little tots who could barely creep had to get on as best they could.

After we had found our compartment we had threequarters of an hour to spare. We walked back to the station to see and to help — and to learn how horrible even the preludes of war are. We helped where *we could. It was a fine sight to see Dr. Macfarland lugging little, fat, screaming German babies under his arms and dumping them through car windows into their mothers' laps. Each mother had probably carried the babies and several pieces of baggage as well. It should be said at just this point that, contrary to the attitude of the soldiers later on, the French porters and guards showed every kindness to these fleeing Germans. They had probably never before in all their lives worked so hard, nor amid such confusion, but they were patient, and gentle toward the women and children, carried piles of baggage to the compartments, with no hope of the inevitable fee, and in several instances I saw these Frenchmen patting the little German boys on the head when they were screaming with fright at the confused and strange proceedings.

This was the first fruits of war. In this great mob • — many of whom had to sit on their baggage all night long as train after train was made up, while the children slept on the cold stone floors — were mothers who had to get up from beds of child-birth and carry babies one and two weeks old. There were many mothers carrying little children who were ill with all sorts of diseases, and to whom that night's exposure meant certain death. There were many invalids who were — it was a pitiable sight — trying to drag themselves along to their cars with canes and crutches. There were old men and women who could hardly crawl trying to reach the train and take some little treasures from their homes. Those who could not walk at all had to be carried, as the babies and baggage were carried, in whatever arms could be found. They were dumped into trains so crowded that there was no chance for either the sick or the children to lie down.

Most of these families had nice little homes in Paris, and were on the friendliest terms with their neighbors. The men were, for the most part, artisans and skilled workmen. We talked with one of these men, who was afterwards dumped out with us at Petit Croix at three o'clock the following morning. He was very fond of his French fellow-workingmen, and was evidently popular with them. He belonged to the same union. When the telegram came for him to flee from Paris immediately, he took his two tow-headed boys of five and two, got together what few belongings he and his wife could carry in their hands, and turned over the res: of their propei'ty to the care of a French fellow-zvorkingman, who shed tears when they left and promised to take all care of their possessions. "And in a few weeks you will be trying to kill each other?" we asked. He simply shrugged his shoulders in reply. Perhaps right here lies the chief hope for ultimate eradication of war in Europe. These two men had no quarrel. They were fellow-workingmen, comrades, warmest friends. They had one common interest in life. They sipped their coffee together in each other's homes ; they went together to the same meetings of the Social Democracy; they and their wives and children went picnicking together at St. Germain on Sunday afternoons. But at a command from some one they have never seen ; from a government that has probably done nothing but oppress them; for a cause of which they have never heard, they must take positions on opposite sides of a frontier and begin shooting at each other.

Generally, as in the present awful cataclysm, there is no cause at first — simply a stubborn insistence on revenge by one power, and the wicked support of her by another, when she would not yield tt) arbitration, even at the request of her supporting ally. We Americans all came to feel, I think, that the chief hope was in the workingmen of Germany, Russia and France, awaking to the fact that they were simply dupes, fools, pawns in the hands of avaricious and unscrupulous governments. The military cliques at the capitals play games and use the masses as pawns ; it would be more exact to say as footballs. Or the capitalists desire more territory, and they breed a war, and send out the poor workingmen, whom they have already been bleeding all their lives, to kill their brother workingmen in order to gain this new territory. And they go, thinking it is duty, patriotism, what-not. But, poor fools, they will come to their senses some day and will not go. This present collapse of Europe was brought on entirely by a little clique of crazy Servians, high up in the government, killing an Austrian prince, and the Austrian court seeking revenge on this clique. Neither group has ever given the great masses of the people any thought, except how to use them for carrying out intrigues and aggressions. The workingmen of neither country know anything of what is going on at court. But suddenly they are arrayed against each other, and soon all the workingmen of Europe (it is practically only the workingmen who are sent to war) are drawn up in battle array just because of a quarrel of two cliques of which they know nothing and which never cared anything for them.

On the night of August 3d we came through Liege. Two days afterwards the German Government committed the unpardonable crime of violating the treaty of neutrality with Belgium and ordered her soldiers to attack Liege, the beautiful frontier town of this happy little nation, safe, as it supposed, in its neutrality.

It was this unpardonable crime on Germany's part that drew England into the war. But here is my point : Those twenty-iive thousand poor German soldiers zvho were killed or wounded in that awful battle thought they were -fighting Frenchmen zvho were trying to get int&i Germany. As a matter of fact, the French had made no move up to this time and were still trying to secure peace by negotiations with the other powers.

There are some signs that the workingmen of Europe are awaking to the hollowness and sham of all this war business, and perhaps one of the outcomes of this conflict may be a clearer vision and a more courageous following of the ideals they are already holding. I happened to attend some of the sessions of the Social Democrats held at Stuttgart six or seven years ago. One of the great debates was on the question or whether or not, when a general European war should be called, the German and French workingmen, both in the shop and on the railroads, should strike. This general strike would of course paralyze all activity. The time had not come to carry such a measure, although a surprisingly large number were ready to vote it. But we recall with' what enthusiasm Germans and French clasped hands that day and said : "We German and French workingmen will not bear arms against each other, except to defend our country if attacked." Poor fellows, they meant well, but they lost courage when the crisis came, and were caught up in the great, mad war preparation. Many tried to hold out, however, in Germany, as well as in France, and remained true to their vows. In Berlin meetings of workingmen were held to protest against the position the government was taking and against the plunging of Europe into war. Some brave speeches were made. Then the Kaiser suddenly forbade the holding of assemblies anywhere in Germany as a wholesale method of checking the agitation of the democracy. After this the poor workingman had to take up arms or be shot.

In Paris, where there is more freedom of speech than anywhere else in the world, I witnessed several processions of workingmen passing through the streets of Paris crying "A Bas la Guerre' ("To Hell with War"). Of course there were groups on the sidewalks who cried in opposition "Vive la Patrie," "Vive la France," but the striking thing was that such numbers could walk through the streets of Paris crying out against war, and not be molested. Indeed, at this time, five davs before the war broke out, we found the feeling in Paris was one of sadness rather than of war fever. This changed two days after we left when France found, that in spite of all the efforts for peace she was making, in company with England, Germany was bound to drag her into the war. But every French workingman with whom we talked shook his head and said: "It is all very sad." Again let me say, I think the chief hope is with the workingman and I think he will see this ever more clearly after this war.

I hope also that the Church will have her eyes opened as a result of the Purgatory through which she must now pass. She was just awaking to her duty when this war came. For five years the Churches of Great Britain and Germany have been doing splendid work. For five years the Churches of America, through the Federal Council of Churches, have been speaking boldly on this subject. Last year The Church Peace Union was founded, and it held its World Conference of the Churches in Germany right in the teeth of war. The story of this conference and the experience of its delegates in crossing Germany to England will be told in the succeeding chapters of this book. But I believe this catastrophic collapse of the nations will at last convince the Church that Jesus Christ has no part with a civilization that can bring forth nothing better than Hell for all Europe.

Chapter II. From Paris To Basel: An Interrupted Sleep

The cause of our being on the train from Paris to Basel was the Conference of the Churches of the United States and Europe to be held at Constance, Germany, to consider how the churches might together help on the cause of international goodwill, and persuade the nations to raise their dealings with each other to that high ethical plane already reached by all good and even respectable men. In February of this year Andrew Carnegie, Esq., created a corporation of twenty-eight trustees chosen from the highest dignitaries of the churches and most eminent leaders in religious and social progress of all denominations in America, and endowed it with $2,000,000 under the name of "The Church Peace Union." The trustees immediately elected me as the Secretary of the new foundation, and I was glad to accept, because of the great opportunities this munificent gift offered to enlist the churches more directly in the growing movement to Christianize our international relationships. These relationships linger far behind our personal relationships in their ethical character, yes, are even Pagan. One of the men whom Mr. Carnegie had taken into his confidence while planning his new gift was J. Allen Baker, M. P., of London, a man of rare qualities, who had built up the remarkable organization of the English churches for peace, called "The British Council of Churches for Fostering Friendly Relations between Great Britain and Germany."

Mr. Baker was in New York for a while before Mr. Carnegie made his gift, and we saw Mr. Carnegie almost daily. When Mr. Carnegie intimated to us his decision, one of the things we all three rejoiced in was that now we could bring all the churches of Europe and America together for a conference on the Church and international goodwill. Mr. Carnegie made his gift on February 10th, and at the first meeting of the Executive Committee of the Union I asked for an appropriation of $10,000 to bring about this thing of which I had dreamed for years. If I remember rightly it was the first appropriation made by the Union.

An Advisory Committee of six trustees, consisting of Doctors Charles S. Macfarland, John R. Mott, William I. Hull and James J. Walsh and Mr. Edwin D. Mead, was appointed to act with the Secretary in taking immediate steps to call such a conference. We at once got into correspondence with Mr. Baker of London and Dr. F. Siegmund-Schultze of Berlin, Secretary of the German Councils of the Churches. Berne, the capital of Switzerland, and also the center of many international movements, was first fixed upon as the best place to hold the conference, but was abandoned when it was learned that the Swiss National Exposition was to be held there. Zurich was then suggested, but Constance was eventually chosen, as it was thought by the German and British secretaries that it would both please Germany to call the conference on German soil and attract the attention of the German press, which was not much given to reporting peace meetings. The date was fixed for August 2d to 5th, and nothing remained to be done but to secure the delegates wanted. M^*. Carnegie invited the trustees of

The Church Peace Union to go as his personal guests, and the committee, acting in co-operation with the Federal Council of Churches, selected fifty other delegates from among the churches. This selection was made on a double basis of denominational representation and leadership in the peace movement. Great Britain, Germany, and other European nations selected delegates at the same time, and, as will appear later, in spite of all the difficulties in the way, two-thirds of these delegates from the various countries reached Constance and held their conference.

This explains why Dr. Macfarland and I were on this particular train from Paris to Basel. We had left New York together for the conference on July 21st, sailing by the Aquitania for Liverpool. On the same steamer were four other delegates. Doctors Ernest H. Abbott of the Outlook, Walter Laidlaw, Rivington D. Lord and William P. Merrill. Mrs. Merrill was also with us. When we sailed from New York there was no slightest sign or rumor of war. We, and the sixty other delegates sailing by other steamers, were looking forward to a meeting that should both mark and make history. It was the first time that the churches of all the nations had assembled to talk over the reign of justice, law and peace. No one dreamed of war even between Austria and Servia. The wicked and foolish assassination o£ the Austrian Grand Duke and his wife had shaken Europe; but Austria had remained remarkably cool and it looked as if war were not to be the outcome of it. It was on the third day out that the daily paper published by the ship contained the announcement that Austria had declared war against Servia. Even then we thought it must be a rumor, or simply a representation to Servia demanding certain reparations. It was not until we landed and read the impossible note which had been sent by Austria to Servia on July 23d that we realized the danger that threatened Europe.

We reached London Monday night, July 27th. London was calm, and, although the nations on the Continent were getting frightened, Sir Edward Grey was corresponding with the powers, and hope was everywhere expressed that Austria would stay active warfare until there could be a conversation of representatives of the powers at London or elsewhere to see if there could not be some method of satisfying the Austrian demands without resort to war. We hastened on to Paris, and there, Wednesday evening, it became apparent that Europe was getting nervous. Russia, fearing that Austria would not be satisfied with simply punishing Servia, but would annex her, or destroy her independence, was beginning to mobilize her forces. Everyone felt sure that Germany would begin to mobilize if Russia did. If Germany mobilized, then France would feel bound to follow, out of fear of Germany. Rumors also began to spread that Sir Edward Grey was not meeting with success in his negotiations with Germany and Austria.

We remained in Paris three days and the air was charged with electricity. The city was calm, but every- • thing was tense. On July 27th Servia had replied to the Austrian note. The reply practically acquiesced in all of Austria's demands, but it was evident that Austria was bound to go to war no matter what the reply of Servia might have been. On July 27th the British Ambassador at Vienna wrote Sir Edward Grey :

"I have had conversations with all my colleagues representing the Great Powers. The impression left on my mind is that the Austro-Hungarian note was so drawn up as to make war inevitable ; that the Austro-Hungarian government are fully resolved to have war with Servia ; that they consider their position as a Great Power to be at stake, and that until punishment has been administered to Servia it is unlikely that they will listen to proposals of mediation. This country has gone wild with joy at the prospect of war with Servia, and its postponement or prevention would undoubtedly be a great disappointment."

In Paris there was more sadness than jubilation. I have already referred to the demonstrations against the war. On the other hand, the cinemas were everywhere displaying moving pictures of President Poincare's visit to Russia and these were witnessed with great enthusiasm. The police had taken the precaution to clear the streets of chairs on the Boulevard des Italiens, where usually thousands sit during the evenings drinking their coffee. Great swarms of people were on the streets watching the bulletin boards of the various journals. Every edition of the evening papers was snatched up immediately. Everywhere men were selling charts showing the relative strength of the armies of Europe. Everybody knew war was imminent, but the majority were hoping that something would happen to avert it. France acted nobly to the last and, as appears from the diplo-' matic correspondence which has been printed in the famous "White Book" and which Dr. Macfarland has reviewed in Appendix V, strained every nerve to preserve the peace of Europe, even to keeping her soldiers back several miles from the frontier durins the mobilization forced upon her, to avoid any indiscreet act against Germans by an irritated soldiery. When Friday night came things looked ominous. All the nations were beginning to mobilize. The German government had declared the nation in a state of preparation for war. But we felt it our duty to proceed to Constance, because we, the organizers of the conference, must go there if one other soul should put in an appearance.

I have described the sights at the station. Our train was the regular express which runs from Paris to Basel via Belfort and Muelhausen. This route would carry us through a little edge of German territory, where Alsace-Lorraine juts doAvn between France and Switzerland. It was here that the trouble came. That very night, while we were sleeping on the train, Germany closed her frontiers to all foreigners. We had gone on beyond Belfort and had reached the little station at Petit Croix, a few miles from the frontier, when the train was held up by the station master and the news imparted that Germany had closed the frontier and torn up the tracks. A great, sleepy, shivering crowd was dumped down on the platform, and no one knew what awaited us. For some unaccountable reason the train backed out toward Belfort without taking us back. I imagine the crew were so frightened that they did not know just what they were doing, except that they were getting far away from the German frontier as fast as they could. For three long hours, from three to six o'clock, we stood shivering and staring at this small country station. Little sleepy boys and girls were crying and mothers were trying to keep their babies warm.

At last a train was made up and we were all bundled in, but no one knew where we were to go, except that they had been ordered to carry us back to Belfort, the garrison town, and the junction where a road runs off to the south into Switzerland. It would be possible to reach Basel that way by a long detour through Switzerland without crossing German territory. But no one knew whether we were to be carried that way or carried back to Paris. In time we reached Belfort, and here everything was "confusion worse confounded." Train after train kept pouring in from all parts of France with passengers bound for Switzerland and the German town of Muelhausen. When the passengers for Muelhausen learned that the tracks were torn up they were filled with blank dismay. They were mostly Germans hurrying out of France. To remain in France longer was dangerous, for the war fever was spreading, and that meant that friendly men would soon become beasts and no German's life would be secure. If they could get into Switzerland their lives would be safe, but it meant a long delay and detour and many of them had no money. Their distress was pitiable. I found one German woman with three children, all under six, trying to get along with them and several pieces of baggage and no porter to help her. Later I had the satisfaction of carrying the chubby boys to the train, while others helped her with the baggage. The French had been kindly the night before, but now news had spread all over France that Germany had madly decided to wage war on France and this had changed the kindliness into a wild rage against Germans. It began to be noticeable at Belfort, and even German women and babies were liable to violence and insult. War in our days knows no manners, no humanity and no religion. All talk about humanizing war is pure buncombe, as the recent struggles in the Balkans showed and as this war will also soon reveal. The majority of the people being emptied out of the trains were from Calais and Paris, bound for Switzerland. We remained in our car not knowing whether we were to go to Basel, back to Paris, or to remain right there. The officials knew nothing more than we. For three hours we sat there, except for a few moments when at seven o'clock the station restaurant opened and the mob rushed for coffee and rolls. Here again we had a chance to render service in getting something to eat for the German women and children, although it is doubtful if the attendants would have sold us the bread had they known it was for little German boys and girls. It was only the day before in a cafe in Paris that I heard a Frenchman say that he would like to have the job of splitting every German baby in two with a sword.

While we were waiting there the train came in from Calais and our hearts leaped with joy when we saw J- Allen Baker, M. P., the Rt. Hon. W. H. Dickinson, M. P., and a dozen more of the English delegates alighting from the train. Their train was also billed to go through by way of Muelhausen, and here they were stranded with us. Finally I managed to get hold of the stationmaster for a moment and told him that we had to get to Basel somehow, and he intimated that the cars we were in would be sent through by a southern route. The guard of our sleeping car was a nice fellow and made every effort to get our car put through. Soon he came and told us that the cars which had been sent back from Petit Croix would be put through to Basel. Thereupon, the English delegates were all packed into our already overcrowded car, and sitting on satchels and standing in aisles we were eventually started for Basel.

The ride to Basel was eventful, for we got our first glimpses of a nation mobilizing its army. We had about two hours to ride through France before reaching the Swiss border. Belfort is a garrison town, and in every village we saw the soldiers gathering to be hurried there. Over every hilltop we saw companies of soldiers marching in long lines, with hurried steps, to join the regiments. At every station we saw crowds of men and boys who had been taken right off the farms and out of the factories and" shops, and were corralled in the station awaiting transportation to Belfort. These were the reservists,, and the moment we saw that they were being mobilized we knew the situation was serious. We had had no news^ but rumors were everywhere rife that Germany was mobilizing all her forces. Every man who knew the temper of Germany knew that this meant war. These crowds were mostly drunk with much brandy and were hoarse with singing the Marseillaise and yelling: "To hell with Germany." At one station, as several hundreds of these poor French boys, more intoxicated than the rest, caught sight of the German with his wife and babies, who were still with us, at a window of the train, they nearly frightened the life out of him and his wife hv cursing him and shaking fists at him. At last they threatened to pull him out of the window and pound hint to pieces, but an officer came along and pounded them over the heads with his sword and drove them, as if they were pigs, into a pen, and passed them several more buckets full of liquor. At every station were swarms of women and children bidding good-b3^e to dear ones, and there was much weeping. Poor things, they had much cause to weep, for it was just this crowd which was, within ten days, sent up from Belfort to Muelhausen to fight the first big battle between the French and Germans. Most of them now lie dead in the fields around that beautiful city.

It was a great relief to get into Switzerland. While the nation was mobilizing a few of its troops for policing its frontiers, on the whole it was calm, and at the station both railroad men and soldiers were rendering every assistance to travelers, regardless of nationality. Especially did the Germans appreciate the reaching of this haven. For as yet Switzerland supposed that Germany would be true to the treaties of neutrality, and was as friendly to Germans as to all others. Poor Switzerland, too, has now been forced to mobilize her whole army and expects to have to fight Germany. For when she saw Germany deliberately violate the most holy treaties in existence — those of neutrality — all her confidence in Germany disappeared.

At last we reached Basel, and found that to get to Constance we must go away up to Schaffhausen first and then east to the beautiful city on the lake. It was impossible to believe, as the train followed the edge of the Rhine from Basel to Schaffhausen, with the exquisite scenes of peace and beauty unfolding before us, one after another, with the prosperous, happy villages, some old, with quaint, red-roofed houses, clothed in vines and flowers, others new, with factories and shops betokening the new industrial development, that soon all this would be devastated by fire and pillage, or else be left to decay by the withdrawal of all the. men to go and kill some other working men in equally happy towns. Everywhere the green fields and red-roofed villages were bathed in peace and evening sunlight. As we approached Constance the train ran for miles along the wondrous lake, where again all was calm and twilight beauty. Across the waters slept the old town, with the towers of the cathedral outlined against the pink sky. Only in the heart of man was there tumult, passion, enmity, and revenge. Nature was in tune with God. Man was getting in tune with the Devil.