A WAR-TIME JOURNAL

 GERMANY 1914 AND GERMAN TRAVEL NOTES

 [Illustration: ENGLISCHE KRIEGSFÜHRUNG (_How the Englishman makes war. _)]

 A WAR-TIME JOURNAL GERMANY 1914 AND GERMAN TRAVEL NOTES

 BY

 LADY JEPHSON

 AUTHOR OF 'A CANADIAN SCRAP-BOOK' AND 'LETTERS TO A DÉBUTANTE'

 LONDON ELKIN MATHEWS, CORK STREET M CM XV

 PREFACE

Prefaces are rarely read, yet I have the hardihood to venture on thisone because there are certain things in connection with my journalwhich it is necessary to explain. On returning from Germany, althoughurged by my friends to publish the story of my experiences, I refused, fearing to do anything which in the smallest degree might prejudicethe case of those still in captivity. There came a day, nevertheless, when I read that all English people had left "Altheim. " The papersannounced that men under forty-five had been interned at Ruhleben, andthose over that age had been sent to Giessen. There seemed, therefore, no possible object in further withholding the journal, since, afterall, there was nothing in it which could by any possibility affect thefate of others less fortunate than I. Accordingly I sent my manuscriptto the _Evening Standard_, which accepted it, and published the firstcouple of pages. Then, in deference to the wishes of people whoserelations were still at "Altheim" (having been sent back fromGiessen), I stopped my diary. However, in view of the dailyrevelations in the Press as regards prisoners in Germany, I have come, after seven months, to the conclusion that nothing I can say will inany degree make the condition of prisoners there worse. Meanwhile itis of supreme interest to compare the opinions and conduct of Germansat the beginning of the war with what they express and observe now. Myjournal is simply a record made each day of my detention, and althoughit has no pretension to being literature, it is at least a truthfulpicture of the state of things as we in Altheim saw them at thebeginning of the war. For obvious reasons the place of detention hasbeen given a fictitious name. 

 HARRIET J. JEPHSON. 

 CONTENTS

 PAGE

A WAR-TIME JOURNAL 11

GERMAN TRAVEL NOTES:

 "TAKIN' NOTES" 67

 OF SOME FELLOW TRAVELLERS AND THE CATHEDRAL OF MAINZ 76

 SCHLANGENBAD 84

 LIEBENSTEIN 90

 TRÈVES 96

 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

 PAGE

ENGLISCHE KRIEGSFÜHRUNG _Frontispiece_ (_How the Englishman makes war. _)

ENGLAND FINDET HILFSTRUPPEN (_England finds troops to help her. _)

 I. IN KANADA 17 (_Behold the German idea of a Canadian. _)

 II. IN POLYNESIEN 33 (_The German idea of an Australian. _)

 III. NUR IN LONDON NICHT 49 _But not in London!_

_These illustrations are reproduced from German newspapers. _

 A WAR-TIME JOURNAL: GERMANY, 1914

VILLA BUCHHOLZ, ALTHEIM, _August 1st. _--Last night a herald went roundthe town and roused everyone, blowing his trumpet and crying, "KommenSie heraus! Kommen Sie alle fort!" This was a call to the reservists, all of whom are leaving Altheim. To-day the crowd cheered madly, sang"Heil Dir im Sieger Kranz, " and "Deutschland über alles, " showing theutmost enthusiasm. To my horror, I find that the banks here refuseforeign cheques, and will have nothing to do with letters of credit. Ihave very little ready money with me, and the situation is not apleasant one!

_August 2nd. _--Germany has declared war against Russia! All men oldenough to serve are leaving to join the army. Proclamations areposted up in the Park Strasse, and crowds are standing in tenseanxiety in groups, discussing matters with grave faces. We don't knowhow to get away, since all trains are to be used only for the troopswhile "mobilmachung" is going on. People have got as far as thefrontier and been turned back there, and some who left Altheimyesterday are still at Frankfort. I tried to buy an English paper inthe town, and was told that none were to be had until England had madeup her mind what she was going to do! We think of motor-cars to thefrontier, or the Rhine boat. 

_August 3rd. _--Alas! all steamers on the Rhine are stopped andmotor-cars are impossible, because an order has come out thatpetroleum is to be reserved for the Government. I made another attemptto cash a cheque to-day, and again the bank refused. A Russian whostood beside me was desperate. He spoke execrable French, and criedexcitedly: "Comment donc! je ne puis pas quitter le pays et j'ai unefamille et trois femmes!" Poor Bluebeard! his "trois femmes" (wife anddaughters) looked terrified and miserable. Our position is incredibleand most serious. Still, one cannot but admire the glorious spirit ofsacrifice and patriotism which animates all classes of the Germanpeople. Just what it was in the war of 1813, when women even cut offtheir hair and sold it to help their country. 

_August 4th. _--Troops are marching through the streets and leaving forthe Front all day long. The ladies of Altheim go to the station as thetrains pass through, and give the soldiers coffee, chocolate, cigars, and zwiebacks. They get much gratitude, and the men say (poor deludedmortals): "Wir kriegen für Sie" (We fight for you). I saw poor FrauG---- (my doctor's wife) to-day. She was quite calm, but lookedmiserable. Her eldest son, Dr. T----, left for the front this morning. I sympathised, and she said, choking back a sob: "Man gibt das bestefür das Vaterland" (one gives one's best for the Fatherland). Noletters come, nor papers; and we are only allowed to send postcardswritten in German. 

_August 5th. _--Our baker has gone to the war, and Dr. G---- 's butler;the schools have shut up, so many masters having been called upon tofight. Even learned professors turn soldiers in this country, andmost of the weedy cabhorses here have left Altheim to serve their"Fatherland. " My Bade-Frau's husband has gone to the front, and so hasour Apotheke; there are no porters left at the station, and a jewelleris doing duty as station-master! The Red Cross Society meet daily, andmake preparations for the care of wounded men. Hospitals, privatehouses, and doctors' houses are getting ready, and all motors havebeen put at the State's disposal. Insane hatred against Russia exists, and the Russians here are not enjoying themselves! My position is mostserious: no money, and no return ticket!

_August 6th. _--I went out early in quest of news, and looked in atK---- and L----'s. A young clerk, pale with excitement and anger, inreply to my question: "Gibt es etwas neues?" literally hissed at me:"England hat Krieg erklärt" (England has declared war). It was anawful moment, although one was prepared for it in a measure, feelingsure that England would be faithful to her bond. 

Next came the Press announcements, "Das unglaubliche ist Tatsachegeworden" (The unbelievable is become an accomplished fact). "England, who poses as the guardian of morality and all the virtues, sides withRussia and assassins!" Abuse of Sir Edward Grey, of our Government, and of all things English, follows. When vituperation fails, the"Frankfurter Zeitung" reminds its readers that, after all, suchconduct is only what may be expected from "Die historische PerfideAlbions. " That it is a blow none the less is shown by more than onenewspaper beginning "Das Schlimmste ist geschehen. " (The worst hashappened. ) Miss M----, Miss H----, and I went to the "Prince ofWales's Hotel" to see Mr. S----, who had made out a list of theEnglish in Altheim, and tried to telephone to our Consul in Frankfortto ask what he was going to do for our rescue. The telephone peoplerefused to send the message because we were English! Mr. S---- andother men here are doing all they can to secure a train when themobilisation is over. He advised us to pack up and be ready to start, also not to show ourselves out of doors much, as there is the greatestfury and indignation at present against the English, and to be carefulwhat we said and did. We are all terribly anxious, and it is rathertrying for me, as I am the only woman in the place quite alone. 

_August 7th. _--Still no help! Innumerable wild rumours are flyingabout. They say that those who left Altheim have all come back, unableto get farther than Frankfort. We are beginning to feel hopeless. Nothing about England is in the German papers, and, of course, we seeno others. It is quite terrible being without news. Last night therewas great scrubbing and scraping of Altheim shop windows, and all thenotices: "English spoken here" have disappeared. 

There is a mania about spies in Frankfort, we hear, and some Americansyesterday were very roughly handled because their motor bore a Frenchmaker's name. The Americans have returned to Altheim, and their motorhas been taken to fight for the Fatherland! Our situation is dreadful, but we are keeping up brave hearts. Every day a fresh "Bekanntmachung"(notice) appears; that of to-day was addressed to the children andcalled upon them to gather in the harvest, the workers having gone assoldiers and turned their "pruning hooks" into swords. My postcardswritten in German have all come back. One cannot communicate withanyone outside Altheim. What a position! God in His mercy help us! Itseems so strange to see German troops marching to the tune of "GodSave the King, " yet it is Germany's National Anthem too, and these arethe words they sing to it:--

 "Heil Dir im Sieger Kranz, Herrscher des Vaterlands, Heil Kaiser Dir!" etc. 

[Illustration: IN KANADA(_Behold the German idea of a Canadian_)]

A "Warnung" has now been affixed to trees in the Avenue forbiddingRussians, English, French or Belgians to go within 100 metres of thestation. The Russians are being hardly used, but so far Germans arequite nice to us. Mrs. N---- tells me a gruesome tale of a Russianlady who left her hotel for Russia smiling, well dressed, and happy. At Giessen all Russians were turned out of the train and put into awaiting-room, and locked up there without any convenience of food, drink, or beds for the night. The following morning they were told tocome out and soldiers marched them several miles into the country to afarm-house. Some of the poor creatures were faint from want of food, and others had heart disease, and fell exhausted in the road, thesoldiers prodding them with their bayonets to make them get up! Afterseveral hours' detention there, they were brought back to Altheim, where the poor lady arrived a pitiable wreck! What an experience! Ihave been packed up for days!

_August 8th. _--I went into the Park Strasse this morning to buy a"Frankfurter Zeitung. " Outside the shop where I bought it someAmerican women stood gazing at a map of the war, and one said: "I am_disgusted_ with England, just disgusted. So degrading of her to helpa country like Russia, and side with assassins, just degrading! All weAmericans despise her now. " I thought to myself: "If I go to prisonfor it, I will not allow anyone to call my country 'degraded anddisgusting. '" So I said, trembling with wrath, "There is nothing'degrading' in being honourable, nor despicable in keeping true toyour word. England promised to protect Belgium's frontier, and she isbound to do it. "

Several Germans were gathered round the map, and they scowled at meuntil I faced them calmly and said: "Jeder man für sein Land" (Everyman for his country), and they answered quite civilly: "Gewiss!"(Certainly). The Americans in Altheim, I found afterwards, werechiefly of German extraction, which accounted for the woman'sbehaviour. 

Early this morning three men arrived to search my room for weapons. Iwas in bed, but they pushed past the maid Käthchen, forced their wayin, pried into every corner, and departed. Emile the housemaid herehas _four_ brothers at the war. Dreadful rumours are flying about asto our destination. One day we hear we are to go to Denmark, anotherto Holland. Sometimes we are told that we shall not be allowed toleave Germany until the war is over; again that we shall be sent awayat a moment's notice; that we shall be left at the frontier, and haveto walk for six hours, and carry our own luggage, etc. 

The German papers are perfectly horrible in their violent abuse ofEngland, and we are so miserably anxious, not about ourselves, butabout our dear, dear country, and how she is faring. Käthchen saidthis morning, "Die deutschen in Ausland sind sehr schlecht behandelt"(Germans abroad are very badly treated). "See how well the foreignersare treated _here_, " by way of impressing upon me how thankful I oughtto be for my mercies. 

_August 9th. _--No papers! No news! No letters! No money! All of us aremore or less packed up ready to start. We are warned that no heavyluggage can go with us, and are limited to two small "hand Gepäck, "which we can carry ourselves. I have presented my best hats toKäthchen, and it consoles me to think how comical she will look underthem!--but "flying canvas" is the order of the day. 

_August 10th. _--The "Frankfurter Zeitung" calls England "ehrlos"(dishonourable), and the Belgian frontier question "only an excuse, "and even kind, good Dr. G---- raged against England. One is sick withlonging to hear how the war gets on from the English point of view. The papers here never allude to England's movements--only to her moraldelinquencies. I am so poverty-stricken now I wash my ownpocket-handkerchiefs, guimpes, and blouses!

The American part of our community have quite recovered their spiritssince money has come for them. The United States is making everyeffort to rescue her people, and get them back in safety to America. No one seems to concern themselves about us, and we can't get awaywhile mobilising is going on. All Germans show the greatest deferenceto Americans, and call them "our honoured guests. " We, of course, arethe _dis_honoured ones, and in disgrace!

Altheim people so far are passably civil to us, but sometimes one hasa disagreeable person to deal with, as I had to-day at the Bad Haus. The girl who stamps our tickets refused to pass mine until I couldshow her my Kur Karte. I had none, and told her so, and asked her whyI should pay twenty marks for a card, when I could not get any of theprivileges to which it entitled me: the band, terrace, reading-room, and so on. Her answer was a persistent dogged reiteration of "Siemüssen eine Kur Karte haben, sonst können Sie nicht baden, " and nothaving twenty marks in the world at present I had to come away withoutmy bath. Every day there are fresh appeals to the patriotism of thepeople. They are pasted on walls, windows, and even trees. 

_August 12th. _--Such an amusing thing has happened. Mr. S---- said toDr. ----, "We English have captured your Kronprinzessin Cecilie, "without saying that he meant the _ship_, and not the _lady_. As theGovernment keeps all such disagreeable intelligence dark, it was newsto the doctor, and he stoutly contradicted it, and went round the townafterwards telling people: "Just think what liars the English are;they say they have captured our Crown Princess!" We learnt of thisprize-taking from the "Corriere della Sera. "

_August 13th. _--The newspapers are full of German victories and abuseof England. Also they declare that the most terrible atrocities havetaken place in Belgium, where women have despatched wounded Germans onthe field and shot doctors. The indignation is tremendous. 

_August 14th. _--Permission has at last been given for "Fremden"(foreigners) to depart, and also the threats and restrictions as tothe railway station have been removed, but we must submit ourpassports to the police, who send them to Berlin to be stamped by themilitary authorities, and in about a week we shall be free. "Gott seiDank!"

_August 15th. _--I went to the Polizei-Amt, a dreary little house, andfound both yard and staircase crammed with people. After waiting along time in the _queue_ I had to beat a retreat, the neighbourhood ofPolish Jews being too overpowering! In the afternoon I ventured againwith the same result. They say Holland is crammed with refugees, andthe hotels so full that people are sleeping on billiard tables even. We are allowed to choose between Switzerland and Holland. 

German papers express deepest disappointment that Italy has not been"ehrlich" (honourable) to her "Dreibund, " and yet (extraordinarypeople) the Germans blame us for being true to ours. 

_August 16th. _--I sent a telegram off to Ems this morning, of coursewritten in German, but the official behind the little window where Ihanded it in refused to send it until I showed him my passport. As Ihave not yet succeeded in getting through the crowds at the policestation I still had mine. We hear dreadful tales of hardships enduredby those who have managed to get away from other places. Some went bythe Rhine steamers, which are now running, but wherever they passed afortress they were made to go below. As the cabins were not enough forall, preference was given to other nationalities, and English peoplehad to sit up all night on deck, even in pouring rain. The entireabsence of news is for us quite terrible. One feels so out of theworld, not knowing what is happening outside our prison doors. The"Frankfurter Zeitung" is full of nothing but boasts and untruths. Afresh "Bekanntmachung" has been posted up forbidding us to leave thetown, and ordering us to be indoors by nine o'clock. 

_August 17th. _--The Landsturm has been called out and leaves to-dayfor the Front. These men are the last to be requisitioned, beingelderly. [1] After long waiting among Jews, Infidels, and Turks, I atlast got entrance to the Chief of Police's office, had my passporttaken, paid one mark fifty, and was told to come back on Thursday, when it would be returned from Berlin. The Chief was a gruff, disagreeable old man, who, to my amiable "Guten Tag" and "Adieu"vouchsafed no reply. 

 [Footnote 1: This we were told at the time. ]

_August 18th. _--A dreadful blow! We English are forbidden to go toHolland, and told that our destination is to be Denmark. Imaginecrossing that mined sea now! For reasons of their own Germanauthorities will not allow any of us to go by or near the Rhine. 

_August 19th. _--The German Press is to me a revelation of bombast, self-righteousness, falsehood, and hypocrisy. What shocks one most isthe familiar and perpetual calling upon God to witness that He alonehas led the Germans to victory and blessed their cause. I read a poemyesterday, which began "Du Gott der Deutschen, " as if indeed the Deitywere the especial property of the German Nation! Massacre, pillage, destruction, violation of territory, everything wicked God is supposedto bless! What hideously distorted minds, and where is the sane, ifprosaic Teuton of one's imaginings! I wake often in the morning andwonder if all that has happened here has not been a horriblenightmare--if it can be possible in the twentieth century that I, awoman, am a prisoner, and for no sin that one has committed. I cannotorder an Einspänner and drive to the station without a challenge anddanger. I cannot possibly get away without my passport. If I attemptedto drive to the Rhine my fate might be that of the poor Russians whowere shot the other day. In any case I could not leave Germany withoutmy passport nor enter Dutch territory without permission from theNetherlands Consul at Frankfort. It seems all hopeless andheartbreaking. 

_August 20th. _--Another terrific blow! Fraulein S---- came into myroom this morning and said: "Kein Engländer, kein Ausländer, kannDeutschland verlassen" (no Englishman, no foreigner can leaveGermany). I rushed off immediately to the Polizei Amt and found itonly too terribly true. Worse! Mr. W---- and Mr. S----, who tried toarrange for a steamer on the Rhine to take us away, have beenarrested, and are being tried on a trumped-up charge of _forgery_, andthe Company who were the go-betweens demand 3, 000 marks because theboat came a certain distance down the river in order to embark us. 

(_Later_) The Englishmen have been acquitted of forgery, but we fearwe shall have to pay the £120. I have one mark left!

There is jubilation all over the town as the Germans have takenBelfort. Käthchen enters triumphantly. "Unter Führung des Kronprinzenvon Bayern haben Truppen gestern in Schlachten zwischen Metz und denVogesen noch einen Sieg erkämpft, " and she goes on with the weary oldstory of "viele tausend Gefangene" (many thousand prisoners). 

_August 21st. _--I found that charming old American friends of mine, the W----s, were here, and I went to see them at the Grand Hotel. Theyhave been to a Nach Kur in Thuringia, and have had most alarming andunpleasant adventures coming back. However, being American their painsand penalties are nearly over. A special train is to take them andtheir compatriots to the Hague on Wednesday next. They go to theflesh-pots of Egypt, and we are left to eat manna in the wilderness!They can drive in the country, while we poor Britishers may not gooutside the town, and oh! how sick we are of the avenues and streetsof the red-roofed Bath Houses and shop windows whose contents we knowby heart. Mr. W---- told me a good tale of the _chef_ of a Hotel here, who was obliged to obey his country's call and join the French forces. When he found German bullets whizzing about him at Mülhausen, he saidto himself (so the story goes), "What is my duty? Is it best for me tolet these cursed Germans make an end of me, or live to cook anotherday for my country?" He decided that living was his game, threw hisrifle away, lay flat on his face, and let the bullets whistle overhim. He was taken prisoner to his great relief, and now lies inFrankfort prison where his German brother chef has visited him! TheFrench of course are a brave nation, but I daresay the poor cook wasmore at home with his pots and pans than with bayonets and rifles!

No papers! no letters! no news! no chance of escape! Two men were putin prison yesterday for laughing at Germany. Two Russians were stoppedin a motor car, and when arms were found upon them they were put upagainst a wall and shot. 

_August 22nd. _--Altheim has gone mad with joy over the victory nearMetz. Church bells chime and German children sing "Deutschland überAlles" _ad nauseam_; and the Kur Haus and all private dwellings aredraped with bunting. Red Cross people are busy preparing for thewounded--sewing classes are held every day in Bad Haus 8, and thedoctors are full of work. Mr. S----, a young Englishman, formerly inthe army, has been arrested, and also the hall-porter of the "Grand, "and two English valets. 

_August 24th. _--A terrible day! First of all Käthchen announced withcomplacency and obvious triumph, that there had been a great victory"ganz herrlich!" and that an English Cavalry Brigade had been cut topieces at Lunéville, and that those who were not killed had "runaway"! Of course I did not believe this, but it made one terriblyanxious. Then in came Miss H---- saying that two men of our littlecolony had been arrested and taken to the police-station, whence afterexamination they were to be sent to Frankfurt. At the Polizei Amt theOfficials exhibited the results of their _Kultur_ by being rude andrough to the unfortunate people arrested. A Polish woman whose son hadbeen made prisoner sobbed and cried, whereupon the grim old inspectorcame into the room and said sternly: "Kein Frauen Jammer hier!"ordering her out of the room. I was in the Park Strasse and heard someGermans chuckling and saying: "Zwei Engländer sind verhaftet" (twoEnglishmen are arrested), looked round, and saw two of our littlecommunity, both service men, following each other in Einspänners, eachsurrounded by soldiers and fixed bayonets. It was anything but apleasing sight to me!

_August 25th. _--The clouds are lifting, thank God! Cheering news hascome that we are to be allowed to leave this delightful country ineight days' time; most likely we shall have to travel either by way ofSwitzerland or Denmark. Those sagacious personages in Berlin seem toimagine that the secrets of the Rhine fortresses will revealthemselves to us as we go by! What a compliment to our powers ofclairvoyance!

Fraulein G---- has just been in to see me. Usually she is a mostpleasant, gentle little woman, kind and charming; now she is full ofscorn and hatred of England. She says the Englishmen were arrestedbecause they were heard to say that German papers were "full of lies. ""So they are, " said I, "and you can go now and get me arrested too. ""Oh, no, " said she, "I would not tell on _you_!" In spite of hermagnanimity I cannot think our interview was a success. We argueduntil I said, "If we are to remain friends, we must not discuss thewar. I _can_not think England wrong, and as a loyal German you thinkGermany right. Don't let us talk about it any more. "

The "Frankfurter Zeitung" declares that no workmen in England willfight for their country, only the "mercenaries" who are well paid torisk their lives. Oh, this life is hard to bear! Such intense, frightful hatred speaks in every look, in every action of our enemies. It is consoling to remember that their own Nietzsche says: "One doesnot hate as long as one dis-esteems, and only when one esteems anequal or superior. "

_August 26th. _--A chauffeur at the Bellevue was arrested to-day andtaken to Frankfort. He is only twenty, a Glasgow lad, and absolutelyharmless. 

I am so sick of "Heil Dir im Sieger Kranz" that as the children passmy villa shouting it or "Was ist des Deutschen Vaterland?" I go out onmy balcony and retaliate by singing "Rule Britannia. " Small childrenwith flags and paper cocked hats, toy swords and tiny drums marchthrough the streets, day after day, singing patriotic songs, whilst(poor dears!) their fathers are being slaughtered in thousands. Noreverses are ever reported in the German papers, nothing but victoriesappear, and Germans are treated like children. If it were not for the"Corriere della Sera" we should be tempted to believe the Allies in abad way. The "beehrte gäste" departed this morning. At the station aband played, flags were waved, and every American man and woman waspresented with a small white book which contained the telegrams whichpassed between the belligerent nations at the beginning of the war. Again we hear that Copenhagen is to be our destination. 

[Illustration: IN POLYNESIEN(The German idea of an Australian)]

_August 27th. _--I saw Dr. G---- this morning. He begged me to be mostcareful what I said. Two patients of his (English) Levantines weretalking on the Terrace, and one said to the other, "We had bettershave off our moustaches, or we shall be taken for military men. " Theywere promptly arrested, having been overheard by a spy. We are nowordered to get health certificates, which are to go to Frankfort, andbe forwarded to the military authorities in Berlin. There is an ideathat we may go away on Tuesday next. We have found out that ourpassports never went to Berlin at all, but are lying at this moment inthe drawer of that old demon in the "Polizei-Amt. "

_August 28th. _--Nothing new. The German papers, as usual, full oftheir victories and their piety, and their patriotism, and their"Kultur, " and goodness knows what not besides. Both Kaisers praisingeach other and distributing iron crosses _ad lib. _, early though it bein the day. No mention of English troops or England, except to abusethe "Verflüchte" English. 

A train of wounded men arrived yesterday, and bandaged and lamesoldiers are to be seen limping about the town, looking ghastly paleand ill. At the Lazarett behind the "Prince of Wales' Hotel" there aremany sad cases. The Red Cross Society has made every provision fortheir comfort and happiness possible. Sheets have been hemmed, pillowcases sewn, bandages got ready. The Germans, however, are chary ofadmitting English women to share their labours, and those who go andoffer to help meet with a very chilly reception. 

_August 29th. _--An account has come of the battle of St. Quentin. The"Frankfurter Zeitung" calls it "decisive, " and says that the Germanarmy has cut off the English army from its base. 

_August 30th. _--Joy at last! Even the "Frankfurter Zeitung"acknowledges that there has been a fight in the North Sea, and that wehave sunk German ships, but, of course, it was "overpowering numbersand larger ships" that did it, and the Germans covered themselves withglory as usual. I came home and hung out my flag, the best I could do, a red silk dressing jacket, lined with white, and draped over a bluesilk parasol, which I tied knob out, to look like a pole. 

On our church door to-day was posted a typewritten notice: "We havesmashed your army on the French Continent, (!) and we will smash _youtoo_ if you dare to ring your bell!"

_August 31st. _--I heard a small boy singing to-day:

 "Wo liegt Paris, Paris liegt Hier, Den fingen drauf' Das nehmen Wir. "

I pray it may not prove prophetic, but they all talk of occupyingParis as a certainty, and the German Emperor has invited a number ofhis Generals to dine with him there on the 12th of September. I hearthat a doctor went into the Prince of Wales' Hotel to-day, and sawstuck up in the hall the words: "Das Seegefecht in der Nordsee" (inwhich of course we were victorious). He tore it down and stamped onit. An altruistic German waiter thinking to please the English guestshad put the first sheet of the "Frankfurter Zeitung" in a prominentposition to console them for the many defeats we are supposed to havehad. John Burns' speech at the Albert Hall is reported in full in theGerman newspapers, headed "Eine Rede des ehemaligen EnglischenMinister, John Burns. England gegen seine wahren interessen" (a speechof the former English minister, [2] John Burns. England against hertrue interests). No passports yet! No release! This suspense iswearing!

 [Footnote 2: This speech I have since learnt was an absolute invention. ]

_September 1st. _--The sentimentality of the Germans is amazing! Theycannot even insert a simple notice of a death on the battlefieldwithout this sickly parade, "Heute starb den Heldentod furs Vaterland, unser innigste-geliebter einziger Sohn, " etc. Always a "hero's death"and "for his Fatherland. " A fresh "Bekanntmachung" has appeared, weprisoners of war are not to leave the town, not to stand in groups("rotten" they call it) talking in the streets, to be in our houses at9 p. M. , etc. Two ex-Frankfort prisoners have been sent for by theChief of the Police accused of indiscreet talking. "I hear, " said thegreat man, "you say you were fed on nothing but bread and water inprison. " "No, " said Mr. ----, "I had soup in the middle of the day, and coffee and bread at night, and in the morning. " "Then why do youtell lies!" Such utter childishness, to believe every scrap of unkindgossip!

_September 2nd. _--We are buoyed up with hope, as they talk of ourgetting away this week! It _will_ be delightful to leave thisperpetual bell-ringing and flag-waving and Vaterlandslieder behind us!

_September 3rd. _--The whole of Altheim went mad last night, processions, bands, marchings all night, and such a noise that at lasta nurse had to come out from the Lazarett near the Park and beg therevellers to think of the poor wounded sick, and spare them. No onecould sleep! The last blow has come, our church is closed!

_September 4th. _--Despair! The American Ambassador at Berlin hastelegraphed that we English are not to leave! The Russians are going, but our treatment is retaliatory, because they say England isdetaining German women, and Russia lets them go. To make all worseFraulein S----, tired of keeping me so long for nothing, has given menotice to quit at the moment when for three days I have had no greaterfortune than 2_d. _ in my pocket. Where I am to go, or who will take mein without money I can't imagine! The American Ambassador in Berlinand Mr. Ives, the American Vice-Consul at Frankfort, are workinguntiringly and most kindly for us. We do not complain of actual harshtreatment, although to be turned adrift in the world without money byone whose tenant I had been for five years is hardly kind. However, war is war undoubtedly. Mr. Ives is from the Southern States, Mr. H----, his Chief, from the Northern. The Scotch chauffeur has beenreleased after a week in prison. He looks pale and dispirited, "asadder, " and no doubt "a wiser man. "

_September 5th. _--The "Times" of the 5th August has turned up inAltheim. It has gone the round of our little community until such aworn, creased remnant reached me, that I had much ado to keep ittogether until I could master its contents. One felt a second Rip VanWinkle, awaking after a long sleep, our world being so confined here. At last I have discovered how to get money from England. One writes tothe American Embassy in Berlin, and encloses a telegram (with postalorder for the same) to one's banker in London, instructing him to paythe sum of money wanted to the American Embassy in London, to beforwarded through their kind offices to the Embassy in Berlin. Thetelegram to be written on a sheet of foolscap paper, with the fullname and address of the sender, and the name also of the nearestAmerican Consul. No letters can be sent through this channel. 

_September 6th. _--No church now! Even that taken from us! TheAmerican Vice-Consul has been here, and still thinks that we may getaway in a fortnight. We are sick with hoping and being disappointed. The German Press full of the most virulent abuse of England, "treacherous, " "hypocritical, " "lying, " "cowardly, " "boastful, " thereis no bad name they don't call her! Russia and France and Belgium getno lashings of scorn and fury and hatred such as England does! At lastthe account of Sir Edward Goschen's interviews with Von Jagow andBethmann Hollweg has appeared in the German papers. I had read it allin the "Corriere della Sera" long ago. They talk of stopping Italianpapers in Germany since they are pro-English (in German, "lying"). 

Most of my English friends here went to the German church to-day. ThePfarrer pointed out to his congregation how clearly God had favouredtheir cause, how victory had followed victory, the virtuous, religiouspeople triumphing over the wicked, ungodly nations. Then he spoke ofthe day so near when Germany should annihilate the "Macht vonEngland, " and teach her when crushed and humbled "die Wahrheit, "Religion and Morality! Humph!

_September 7th. _--Wonder of wonders! no bell-ringing to-day, norprocessions of singing youngsters, so we hope there is a lull in the"Sieges. "

Miss H---- went last week to have her hair washed, and during theprocess her hair-dresser remarked casually to her, "We shall be inParis in a day or two, and in London in another week, and when we haveconquered England as well as France you will all have to learn tospeak German. " This shows the amazing conceit and arrogance of thepeople. Poor, ignorant things, they are quite hoodwinked by theirrulers--and even look forward to seeing their Kaiser "Emperor ofEurope"! One day we read that a bag has been made of 30, 000 Russians, the next that the number was understated, and that it is 70, 000. Asfor Belgians and French, every day 10, 000 men and guns _ad lib. _ arecaptured, and the poor silly people believe it all. Villas and streetsare still beflagged, and by this time we know every patriotic song inthe "Vaterlandslieder" book by heart. One tries to be plucky, but ourhearts are very sad just now. 

Paris seems doomed, and apparently the French have abandoned hopetoo, since Poincaré and his Cabinet have gone to Bordeaux. The GermanPress call him a "Feiger" (Coward). 

_September 9th. _--Unaccountably the forward march seems to have beenchecked, although we don't know why. Maubeuge has fallen, and ofcourse the usual bell-ringing and bunting and singing has celebratedthe victory. We cannot understand what our troops are doing. There isno mention of them in the German papers, only columns of sneers andabuse of England. 

_September 10th. _--A rumour has reached us that the Crown Prince hasbeen captured, and that the enemy is retreating. No officialconfirmation has come to hand however; but the flags are down at last, and the jangling of bells has ceased, and we have not heard"Deutschland über Alles" for twenty-four hours, "Gott sei Dank"!Prince Joachim is wounded, and he has sent a telegram worded after themanner of his dear Papa, thanking God who in His goodness permittedhim to be wounded for his beloved Fatherland. I wonder what Frederickthe Great would have thought of these boastful warriors. We Englishare looked upon with horror as the brutal barbarians who use dum dumbullets, and Sir Edward Grey's dignified disclaimer is reported underthe polite heading "Grey leugnet" (Grey lies). 

_September 11th. _--Nothing new in the situation, but we rejoice to seegrave faces and groups looking solemn in the streets, and talking insubdued voices, and thank God! we hear no bell-ringing! Everythingcheering we read in the "Corriere della Sera" is denied in the"Frankfurter Zeitung" or given as a production of the "Lügen Fabrik"(manufactory of lies). 

_September 12th. _--The Germans seem depressed, no flags, no bands, andalthough there is a notice posted up in the town to say that the CrownPrince has achieved another victory, there is evidently somethingunsatisfactory in the background to counterbalance this. I drawdeductions from the "Frankfurter Zeitung, " which has a bitter articleentitled "Torheiten" (Folly), and which speaks of the "KindischeFreudengeheul" (childish howls of joy) of the English and FrenchPress, because "ein parr Kalonnen deutscher Soldaten ein Stuck wegeszurückgezogen haben" (two columns of German soldiers had withdrawn abit of the way back). Then the writer contrasts the boastful words("prahlender wörte") of England with the self-restraint and pious calmand virtuous behaviour of Germany. One has only to look at thepostcards in the Park Strasse to see which of the combatants isboastful. England is drawn as ignominiously lying on the ground (whenshe isn't running away) and Germany invariably is kicking or thrashingher. 

People are less friendly than at first, though the bath attendants, people in the Inhalatorium, and doctors are most kind. I had tea atMüller's with Miss H---- the other day. There were at least thirtyempty chairs in the tea-room, but a German woman marched up to thechair on which I had laid my daily newspaper, and ordered me to takeit off, as she must have my chair! She was stout and ugly, and had away of doing her hair which, as a writer says, "alone would haveproved impeccable virtue in the face of incriminating circumstantialevidence. " For all their "Kultur" Germans are gross, and to the lastdegree inartistic. Their "_nouveau art_" is repulsive; their dressingoutrageously ugly, and their cooking atrocious. I have watched themhere year after year tramping up and down the shady walks stolidlydrinking, wearing garments of ingeniously devised ugliness and blindto "_l'inutile beauté_. " There is no variety of type nor individualityof person in either men or women. These worthy _Hausfrauen_ have nograce of dainty frills, diaphanous lace or rustling petticoats. Theyare obviously and incontestably of the class described by a wittywriter to whom "a lace petticoat is as much a badge of infamy as acigarette on the stage. " The German proletariat cannot be susceptibleto externals, else the universal sad-coloured skirt, the ill-fittingblouse and the ugly hat worn by his women-folk could not find favourin his eyes. 

Life in Altheim has changed under war conditions. The Kur Haus isclosed, there are no teas on the Terrace or promenadings to thestrains of Grieg or Strauss, or theatrical performances. The GermanKur-Gäste have left, and only the Russian, English and a few Belgianprisoners of war remain. Russians here are chiefly of a very lowclass. Most of the women go about bareheaded, and all are rough andunkempt and dirty-looking. I fancy some of them have suffered muchprivation, but happily their order of release has come. They will haveto travel by Denmark, Sweden and across to Petrograd. The weather isautumnal, and they have only summer clothes, like us. We cannot helpthem, having so little money ourselves. I have had to borrow twice, and tried to sell my jewellery without success, but I have developed alatent and unsuspected talent for laundry work. The pretty summershops in the Park Strasse are now closed, and the sound of beatingmattresses is heard everywhere; the blinds of most of the villas aredrawn down, and the families having no longer lodgers have descendedto their winter quarters on the ground floor. Only a few _einspänners_are left, as both _Kutschers_ and horses are gone to meet a"Heldentod" for their Fatherland. 

One sees white-capped nurses and Red Cross Ambulance men and woundedand bandaged warriors everywhere. When recovered, the soldiers getthree days leave to visit their families, and then return to theFront. Poor souls! Shops are chiefly tended by women nowadays, andthe German Frau is not a capable shopkeeper like the French woman. A"Drogerie" here is presided over by the wife of the man who owns it, in his absence at the war. She is a gentle, rather pretty creature, but amazingly slow and stupid. If tooth-powder be asked for, shemounts a ladder, searches among a hundred bottles, shakes her headdespairingly, and wonders where her "Mann" has put it. Outside herKüche and house, the German woman does not shine, but she is afaithful unselfish wife, and a good and affectionate mother. Mr. Ivesthinks we shall certainly get away next week. I hope so! The weatheris cold and rainy, and there is no fire-place in my room. 

_September 13th. _--The Altheim daily papers complain that they areinundated with foolish questions over the telephone. "Ist Namurbelgisch oder französisch?" (Is Namur Belgian or French?)

"Gehen die Schottländer wirklich mit nackten Beinen in die Schlacht?"(Do the Highlanders really go into battle with naked legs?)

"Wie lange wird es ungefähr dauern, bis die Deutschen Pariseingenommen haben?" (How long will it be before the Germans havetaken Paris?) and so on. 

_September 14th. _--Again rumours of our going, but even though releasewill be most welcome, we all dread the journey. Terrible tales come tous of the treatment meted out to foreigners crossing the frontier. Many English were turned out of Wiesbaden and sent here. At F---- theyhad their luggage searched, and the ladies of the party were strippedto the skin by women who even combed their hair to see if by anyingenuity they had concealed plans and drawings in the puffs andcoils, two soldiers with fixed bayonets mounting guard meanwhileoutside. No doubt we shall remember this journey to the end of ourlives, but what can you expect from a people whose Prophet Nietzschesays, "What is more harmful than any vice? Pity for the weak andhelpless--Christianity!"

_September 15th. _--The singular absence of humour of the Germans oftenamuses me. I think it was Palmerston who described Germany as "thatland of damned Professors. " They are all so desperately in earnest, and their "Kultur" is so serious, that jokes and fun seem likeblasphemy. My penury has again been relieved by Mr. S----'s kind loanof £1. Lady M---- came in to tell me that the American Vice-Consul hadtelegraphed to Mr. W---- the good news that we are all to go onMonday, Tuesday or Wednesday next. I have heard this story so oftenthat I am utterly sceptical. We conclude that things are going badlyfor the enemy, since there is no bell-ringing, and the flags have beentaken in. 

[Illustration: NUR IN LONDON NICHT(_But not in London!_)]

_September 16th. _--I hear that no men who have served in the Army orNavy are to be allowed to go with us. To-day's "Frankfurter Zeitung"thinks that England must be at her last gasp, or she would not have"barbarians such as Indians, Japanese and _Highlanders_" fighting herbattles for her! They also declare on "unimpeachable evidence" thatIndia is in a state of revolt, and that the Japanese are to bedespatched at once to quell the rebellion. Any misfortune to theBritish delights them. 

_September 17th. _--The B----s, who to our envy have received specialpasses to go to Denmark, got as far as Hamburg and then had theirpassports taken from them. The Chaplain and his wife disappeared onemorning, and we learn that he obtained a special pass on the ground ofbeing a clergyman. He was heard to utter something about the "Bishopof London, " and perhaps that was the talisman. Lady M---- tells methat they have arrived in Hamburg, we wonder what their fate will be!

A delightful story has just reached me from an Italian source. In thechurch of a Convent Hospital in France, one of the sisters waspraying aloud with immense fervour, and when she came to the"Confiteor" she said: "C'est ma faute! c'est ma faute! c'est ma trèsgrande faute, " whereupon uprose a Turco crying out: "Ah! non! maSoeur! c'est la faute à Guilleaume!"

_September 18th. _--A letter at last! but only one from the AmericanConsul at Frankfort, saying that the Foreign Office wanted to know mywhereabouts as several friends had inquired about me and my safety. Ican't imagine why, when America rescued her stranded citizens longago, and sent them money to get home, we should be suffering likethis. Nothing more about the phantom train! Our nerves are becomingwrought up, and we are developing unexpectedly irritable andargumentative natures. The weather is amazingly windy and horriblycold, one shivers in summer garments, and cannot afford to buy warmerthings. A leading article in the "Frankfurter Zeitung" gives us agrain of comfort, since it is headed "Geduld und Zuversicht" (patienceand confidence), and begins, "In consequence of the victorious news of the first weeks, thoseremaining at home had become accustomed to constant victories, andthe pause in the news of the battlefield of the West is a great trialof patience. " Long may that trial last! On the whole we ought to bethankful that we are in Hesse and not in Prussia. The Hessians are asimple, kindly people, pleasant, and good tempered. I have knownGermany well for eighteen years. When first we travelled in theFatherland I found each Duchy, or Kingdom, or Principality, devoted toits own particular Ruler, and little outside it mattered to itspeople. Nowadays there are no Hessians or Würtembergers, not evenSaxons or Bavarians, but all are Germans, and for one photograph ofthe Grand Duke of Hesse and his Duchess you will see here one hundredof "Unser Kaiser" and "Unsere Kaiserin. " They have becomeImperialists, and the ambitious spirit which animates them is shown bythe act of a soldier at Liège who chalked up on a wall: "KaiserWilhelm the Second, Emperor of Europe. "

I have now 2_d. _ left in the world, and have not taken my inhalationfor two days, not being able to pay for it. The money I telegraphedfor has not yet come, and life seems very difficult! I think of theold lines:

 "'Tis a very good world we live in, To lend, or to spend, or to give in; But to beg, or to borrow, or get a man's own, 'Tis the very worst world that ever was known. "

_September 19th. _--At the eleventh hour and when I seemed at the endof my resources, help came from a most unexpected quarter! I can nevercease to be grateful for the goodness and kindness which relieved mydistress. The Germans look downcast, the Russians jubilant. Howpaternal this Government is no one who has not lived in Germany canimagine. For instance, above the nearest pillar box I saw a noticewritten "Don't forget address and stamps!"

_September 20th. _--Our passports are now in the hands of the militaryauthorities at Frankfort, and Mr. Ives, the American Vice-Consul, isdoing all in his power to get us leave to go. The Superintendent ofthe Inhalatorium is most kind and sympathetic. She inquired why I hadnot been there for three days, and when I told her "Gar kein Geld" (nomoney) was the cause, she cried with real feeling, "Schrecklich!"(terrible). Any thing to do with money or the want of it appeals tothe Teutonic mind, although the Germans sneer at us for being a nationof shopkeepers. There are two words we hope never to hear again, "Kultur" and "Unser. " "Unser Deutschland, " "Unser Kaiser, " "UnserKultur. " How weary and trite are these! What an extraordinary mixturethe Germans are, brave, conceited, sentimental, prosaic, patriotic, and yet no people so soon lose their national characteristics, andbecome citizens of another country as Germans. Many of theirintellectual poses are absolutely morbid. They adore Ibsen as aplaywright and despise Goldsmith and Sheridan; they worship Gauguin, and the school of Impressionists, and have little appreciationnowadays for pre-Raphaelitism. They are intensely and truly musical, and it is amazing, taking into consideration their extraordinary lackof humour, that they should be such accomplished students ofShakespeare, but of real wit or humour the German possesses not anatom. Take, for instance, the modern novels of Suderman, of RudolphHerzog, of Rudolph Stratz, of Bernard Kellerman, of Paul Heyse, andyou will find intense seriousness, tragedy, pathos, masterly drawingof character, and absolutely no fun from cover to cover. As for the"Fliegende Blätter, " the German "Punch, " it is the sickliest imitationof humour possible to conceive. Foremost in science, the German is yeta neophyte in the graces and arts of life. What cooking! what clothes!

_September 22nd. _--If we may believe such good news we are to bereleased from this irksome life, and set at liberty next Saturday. Ourjoy is much damped, however, by hearing that none of the men are to beallowed to leave, and, of course, their wives stay with them. Mr. Iveshas made a special journey to Berlin on behalf of our poor men, butthe authorities are obdurate. 

People say that the loss of life in this terrible war is beyond beliefas far as the Germans are concerned. To hide this the Emperor requeststhat no one shall wear mourning for the dead until the war is over. Also, no complete catalogues of casualties are issued, only lists foreach kingdom, or duchy, so that the bulk of the people have no idea ofthe waste of life. The wounded being so numerous, the doctors now havelittle time to attend to them on the spot, and therefore they are putinto trains and sent off to "Lazaretts" sometimes before even theirwounds are washed. A Belgian lady who had a special police permit togo to Frankfort, returned this afternoon in a train full of woundedsoldiers. One of these was put into her carriage. He had been badlyshot in the arm; his sleeve was soaked with blood, and that hadcoagulated; his wound had never been washed, and French earth wasstill on his boots, and yet he had been sent in this condition fromRheims to Giessen!

_September 23rd. _--Terrible news! A telegram was posted up in the townthis morning, saying that three English "Panzerkreuzers" had been sunkby one German submarine. Of course the church bells pealed, and theflags came out, and the children sang "Nun danket alle Gott, " because950 brave Englishmen had gone under. We are much depressed, and ourdepression is aggravated by the want of occupation here. We dare notsketch for fear of being "verhaftet" (arrested). It is no good writingbecause every scrap of paper will be taken from us on the frontier;nobody I know plays bridge, and so I read and walk all day long. MissH---- tells me that a rude young clerk in the "Löwen-Apotheke" refusedto talk English to her this morning, "You will have to learn Germannow, because we shall be in London within a fortnight, " said he! NoGerman I have yet known foresees any other result of this war butsuccess. The Fatherland Commissariat, according to the Italian papers, leaves much to be desired. The unfortunate soldiers are almoststarving, and often live for days together on raw carrots, turnips, herbs, or any other vegetable they can root up out of the ground. Thedoctors are puzzled because men have died of such seemingly slightwounds. One case seemed so incomprehensible that an autopsy wasdecided on, and a raw root with fragments of earth upon it was foundin the poor creature's stomach. The Russians left at 5 a. M. Thismorning, men and women. It is more than hard that our poor men shouldbe left behind. Lady M----, who has been ill, and her daughter, aninvalid lady, and her maid, were given special passes to go a coupleof days ago. Miss M---- and Miss G---- went to the police stationarmed with these passes, and requested to have their passports back. "The Demon" curtly refused. "But you _must_ give them to us, " saidMiss M----. "Don't say _müssen_ to me!" said "the Demon, " "_bitten_is the word!" (Don't say _must_ to me, _beg_ is the word). 

_September 24th. _--Joyfully packing! A last meeting was held at the"Prince of Wales' Hotel" where kind Mr. S---- presided, and we allreceived instructions for our journey, and our long detainedpassports!

Fifty women and children go. We sleep in Frankfort, and cross fromFlushing to Folkestone. Oh! that terrible mined sea, and the"untersuchung" of the Frontier. I tremble for this Diary, all lettersI have destroyed. 

FRANKFORT, _September 25th. _--We are still in the enemy's country ofcourse, but have come out of our prison Altheim. All were early at theBahn-Hof. There for the last time, please God! we found our old horrorthe Chief of Police. He had a long paper in his hand, and read out ournames; "Hamilton?" "Here!" "Your passport?" (which he scrutinised asif he had never seen such a thing before), and so on. As we got ourprecious papers back we passed through the barrier, where our ticketswere clipped, and on to the platform above. The train when it came inwas crammed with soldiers, and we were advised to wait two hours forthe next, but (to a woman) we all preferred travelling third, or evenfourth class, rather than remain another hour where we had suffered somuch. Miss G---- told me afterwards that she had travelled with twoGerman men, who cursed England up and down, using the most horriblelanguage about her. 

Presently a wounded soldier came into the carriage, and they asked himwhere he had been fighting. "On the Western Frontier, " said he. 

"With the French?"

"Yes. "

"Did you see the English?"

"No. "

"Of course not! They had all run away. Cowards, cowards!"

These are the things which make life so unendurable in an enemy'sland. I was sent here to the "Hessicher-Hof, " which, although itmasquerades under another name, I had no difficulty in recognising asthe former "Englischer-Hof. " Miss H---- went to the "Hotel Bristol, "and when she got there found over the door the one word "Hotel. " Whatwe women should have done without the able committee who arranged alldetails for us with such kindness and thoroughness, I cannot imagine. 

_September 28th. _--There were few tears shed when we steamed out ofFrankfort two days ago on our way to home and freedom. It waswonderful to feel that we might talk above a whisper in therailway-carriage; amazing that we had not to scrutinize carefullyevery corner to be sure no spies lurked there, and most delightful ofall to know that we had got beyond the reach of the Demon of theBurg-Strasse. Egotistically enough we went over in retrospect ouranxieties, disappointments and miseries. Should we ever get rid ofthat evil shadow, we wondered, which had darkened so cruelly two wearymonths of our lives!

Now and then we looked out of the windows with distaste--agreed thatthe outskirts of Frankfort were hideous with their obtrusive andinsistent collection of factory chimneys; and shuddered at the distantand beautiful background of mountain and forest, to us so teemingwith painful memories. We exclaimed at the unsightliness of the hugeskeleton lettering proclaiming to all the world that a _maschinen-Fabrik_was below. Even when we entered a bucolic region of modest gardens andsaw nothing more aggressive than cabbages and turnips, we turned awayfrom the sight with aversion. Yet the villages are picturesque enough, and so are the towns. Timber-framed and gabled houses, steeply pitchedred roofs and stunted grey and mossy church spires, certainly make nounpleasing picture. In happier days I have admired the grape-vinesmeandering over the whitewashed cottages, and marvelled at themonotony of taste which furnished every window-ledge with exactly fourpots of scarlet geraniums. Now, nothing pleased us that was German;scenery, architecture or people! "This, " we said to ourselves, is "thesunny Rhineland through which we are passing, and we see no obvioussigns as we go by of the struggle which is devastating Belgium andmenacing France. " At the first station, however, we realised thatGermany was indeed at war. Red Cross nurses seemed everywhere. Longtables were spread with snowy cloths and bore coffee urns, zwiebacks, hörnchen and huge bowls of steaming soup ready for the poor wounded asthey pass through. Now and then pale bandaged faces looked out at usfrom passing trains, and men on crutches hobbled by, and the horrorsof mutilating war came home to us all. At Goch we had to show ourpassports, and have our luggage examined, but the reality proved notnearly so bad as our imaginings, and on the whole the officials werekind and courteous compared to our Altheim demon. The sun was settingblood-red behind a distant line of black forest when we left Goch andour enemies and imprisonment behind us and entered the Land of Promise. 

We had all been saddened in the morning to learn that Mr. Ives'strenuous efforts to get permission for the men left behind to gosoon, had met with a curt refusal from the Commandant at Frankfort. "When England returns our men, not before, and she had better be quickabout it, " said he. But how true is Rochefoucauld's cynicalepigram--"Nous avons tous assez de force pour supporter les mauxd'Autrui!" Even our sympathy with, and sorrow for, those left inAltheim could not damp the joy we felt to be free again; and when wequitted Goch, the German frontier station, I thought how blessed wouldbe that day when "They shall beat their swords into ploughshares andtheir spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up a swordagainst nation, neither shall they learn war any more. But they shallsit every man under his vine and under his fig-tree; and none shallmake them afraid. "

 GERMAN TRAVEL NOTES

 "TAKIN' NOTES"

He who knows his Rhine and loves it must take of its charms in smalldoses, or satiety is the outcome. There are those, of course, who cantravel from Dan to Beersheba and cry, "'Tis all barren"; but theordinarily intelligent traveller may find much to delight and intereston the banks of the Rhine, always provided that he suits his mood tohis environment, and takes but little of Rhine scenery at a time. Forsurely between Coblentz and Bingen there is an iteration as regardscastles and ruins which is downright wearisome. Do we not betweenthese points find Lahneck, Marksburg, Sterrenberg, Liebenstein, TheMouse, Rheinfels, The Cat, Schönburg, Gutenfels, The Pfalz, Stahleck, Furstenberg, Hohneck, Sooneck, Falkenburg, Rheinstein, and Ehrenfels?

Moreover, there is an affinity of form and colour and, indeed, ofsituation between all these which produces the effect of perpetualrepetition. And we owe Byron a grudge for having written such tritewords as "the castled crag" in relation to the Rhine, since nocommonplace mind of the present day acquainted with his works but hasfallen back on "the castled crag" to describe Drachenfels or Marksburgor Rheinfels, because, forsooth, its own English is too limited tosupply a better adjective. So it is that conventional and inadequateEnglish is perpetuated and individual force and expression are lostbecause people accept the ideas of others and will not seek languageto convey their own. 

All of which above prosing is the result of a day on the Rhine whenthe thermometer registered 74° to 84° in the shade, and a white vapourhid the banks of the river from Köln till close on Bonn. At Bonn ahuge party of "personally-conducted" American tourists came on board. Their sharp, keen, eager, shrewd faces and shrill voices proclaimedtheir nationality at the outset. They were all obviously outside thepale of Society, and their thirst for information and keen interest intheir surroundings were amazing. One learned before long that they had"done" the Paris Exhibition and meant to have a "look in" at mostEuropean countries before sailing from Naples. They took the wholeship into their confidence before a quarter of an hour had passed; andwe shared alike in thrilling intelligences conveyed through the mediumof Baedeker's pages. "The castled crag" resounded from one end of theboat to the other; and as for Roland and Hildegunde, the tragedy oftheir lives was discussed, and exclaimed over, and lamented, until, happily, a bend of the river hid Nonnenwerth from sight. 

In emphatic contrast to the nervous alertness of the Yankee was thespectacle of the middle-class German and his ways. He sat by hisplain, stout, ill-dressed Frau, with his back to the scenery, and ate. Occasionally he spoke in monosyllables: more often he drank; but theend and object of his Rhine trip seemed to be that of consuming asmuch food as lay within the limits of possibility. What Nemesis has instore for him and those of his manner of life I can only imagine!

At a table near us sat three women and two men. Directly we left Kölna waiter set forth trays in front of them laden with coffee, zwiebacks, hörnchens, and eggs. This meal over, they sat sleepilyblinking their eyes, whisking away flies, and mopping the moisturefrom their faces until the sound of "Eis! meine Herrschaften!" "Bier!meine Herrschaften!" roused them from their lethargy. Ices and beerand cherries and peaches successively filled up the weary hours until"the tocsin of the soul, the dinner bell, " carried joy to theirhearts. I can never forget the rapturous look of anticipation andsatisfaction which those stolid middle-class Teutonic countenanceswore when "Mittagsessen" was announced. They shook off their normaland habitual torpidity, and cheerfully elbowed their neighbours, nearly tumbling down the companion-ladder in their eagerness to befirst in the field. They lost no time over the unlovely detail oftucking a corner of their napkins down their necks, and smoothing itsfolds over their protuberant persons; and they studied theSpeise-Karte with a conscientiousness that was worthy of a bettercause. 

Dinner began with a tolerably good soup, followed by tough roast beef, cut in thick slices and garnished with carrots, peas and beans. Nextcame veal, equally uneatable, and then a surprise in the shape ofRhine salmon; after which followed chicken, salad, and _compôte_. Finally, a stodgy pudding, sufficiently satisfying, and dessert. Notone item of the menu was neglected by the five. They calmly andconscientiously and readily ate through the Speise-Karte from start tofinish. Then they returned to deck, only to order coffee and ices, andcalled for a bottle of champagne, three of light Rhine wine, and aplateful of peaches; out of which they brewed a cup, ladling it from aTaunus ware bowl into their long Munich glasses, and sipping it lazilyall the afternoon between such trifles as Kuchen and fresh relays ofcherries. They ate and drank from Köln to Bingen with rare intervalsof dozing, and I never once saw any of the party take the faintestinterest in the Rhine, so far as its banks were concerned. 

It was a relief to turn from such grossness to its antithesis in theshape of two American ladies who sat near us. They werewell-preserved, well-bred spinsters under forty. Everything about themwas dainty and exquisitely neat. I likened them in my mind to bowls ofdried rose-leaves--the freshness gone, the perfume left. Such wastheir intense and intelligent interest in travel that, rather thanlose a timber-framed village or historic castle, a vineyard orwatch-tower, they abstained from lunch and picnicked lightly on deckoff tea and eggs and hörnchen. They knew the legends of the Rhine asyou and I know (or ought to know) our Prayer-Books. They had studiedthe history of Germany, and mastered the intricacies alike of theThirty Years' War and of the Hohenzollern pedigree; and they talkedwell, expressing their ideas in good Saxon words; at times, perhaps atrifle pedantic, but never offensively so. 

As the day wore on the temperature became almost overpowering. Thewater reflected a blinding glare, and a heat like that of a burningfiery furnace was radiated from the engines. I was wondering whether ahammock in a cool English garden would not have been more desirable, when I heard a plaintive, uneducated American voice behind me ask aquestion of its mate which exactly embodied my own unutteredsentiments:

"What _I_ want to know, Jake, is: Is this pleasure, or ain't it? Didwe come here to enjoy ourselves, or what?"

JAKE: "Wall, I guess you ain't used to travelling around, my dear, andyou don't understand it. Oh, yes" (with an obvious effort), "this isreal fust-class pleasure, this is!"

MRS. JAKE: "Wall, I'm darned! I'd as lief be in our store. "

JAKE: "Sakes alive! You _do_ surprise me! Think what Keren-HappuchJones will say when you mention casual on your return something thathappened when you was sailing up the Rhine. She'll die of envy, shewill, and spite to think you've seen more'n her. "

MRS. JAKE (cheered somewhat): "Wall, I reckon, Jake, there's summat inthat. Keren-Happuch don't like anyone to do what she don't do. "

JAKE: "And then, my dear, think of your noo bonnet from Paris! That'llbe another pill for Keren-Happuch to swallow. "

MRS. JAKE: "My! Yes! I don't think much of Europe, anyway, but I couldnever have bought that bonnet in Baltimore. But, Jake, do look on themap and tell me when we get to Heidelberg. "

JAKE: "It ain't any good my lookin', my dear, for I wasn't raised tothese sort of things, and I'm darned if I know where to find it. "

A groan from Mrs. Jake, followed by: "Wall, I reckon when I findmyself again in No. 9, Mount Mascal Street, I won't want to gotravelling around even to cut out Keren-Happuch Jones. "

I came to the rescue at this point, and showed the good lady whereHeidelberg lay. She was a hard-featured, plain woman of somethirty-eight summers, her hair was dragged back uncompromisingly fromher forehead, and there were no "adulteries of art" about eithercoiffure or costume. 

"You see, " she said apologetically, "Jake here and me are travellingaround, and the only way we can get on is to ask for a ticket to aplace, and never stop travelling till we get there. We speak Germanall right because my parents were Germans, and Jake was born inGermany; but he don't know much about it because he was only two yearsold when he left it eight-and-thirty years ago. We thought we'd liketo see the Paris Exposition, but my! it ain't to be compared to theChicago Exhibition, and as for Paris, it can't come up to Noo York, and these river steamers ain't a patch on the Hudson River boats, andI don't think much of Europe anyway. "

Jake, a good-looking, gentle-mannered man, tried to soften theasperity of his wife's strictures without success. He evidently adoredher. 

"The way we travel, " resumed Mrs. Jake, "is to think of a place we'veheard of, and to ask for a ticket to it. Now, we'd heard of Paris andCologne, and Heidelberg, and Baden, and Dresden, and Berlin, andHamburg, but we don't know now how they come--see? So we hev' to gocavortin' around to find out which to take next. A gentleman way backat Cologne"--she pronounced it "Klon"--"told me Heidelberg came next. I quite thought Baden was near Hamburg, and that we should take itlast; but they tell me it ain't, and that, you see, has upset all ourcalculations. Guess you're a Londoner, anyway; thought so by youraccent!"

When we left the steamer at Bingen, the last I heard of Mrs. Jake wasa plaintive moan:

"Guess I don't think much of Europe, anyway, and I wouldn't comeagain, not even to cut out Keren-Happuch!"

 OF SOME FELLOW TRAVELLERS AND THE CATHEDRAL OF MAINZ. 

"Ja Wohl! Frau Rittergutsbesitzer. I have lived in the HerrProfessor's house for five-and-thirty years. I have pickled hiscabbage and preserved his fruit. I have minced with my own hand thepork for his sausages before they had mincing-machines inSchleswig-Holstein. I have seen personally to the smoking of his hamsand fish. I make his Apfelkuchen and Nusskuchen myself, and do not buythem in the shop, like that lazy Hausfrau opposite us at No 2, whocomes from that God-forgotten country England, where all the women areso badly brought up. I grant you that what I do is no more than theduty of every God-fearing German _Haushälterin_; none the less, I donot mean all my work to go for nothing, and I will not be ousted by ahussy! In the time of the _vielbedauerten_ mother (Frau RegierungsratLenbach) I had no worries about his matrimonial affairs; she lookedafter those. But _sieh mal_, Frau Riedel, now the care of him is on myshoulders. He has no more idea of taking care of himself than a baby!He is exactly like that learned man--I think it was our greatNeander--who was running out of his college one day and ran into acow; so he pulled off his hat and said, '_Gnädige Frau, ich bitte umVerzeihung_' ('Gracious lady, I beg your pardon'), and went on; andthe week after he came tearing round the same corner, thinking, Isuppose, of those heathen gods and goddesses whose pictures shame amodest woman to look at, and he ran up against a lady, so he criedout: '_Oh! du dumme Kuh! warum kommst du mir immer in den Weg?_' ('Oh, you stupid cow, why will you always get in my way?') Yes, my HerrProfessor is just like that--quite as stupid, though they call him sowise and clever; and what chance has a born innocent like he isagainst a designing spinster of forty-five who makes him presents of_Weihnachtstollen_ at Christmas, _Oster-Eier_ at Easter, and_Geburtstagstorte_ on his birthday? I ask you what chance of escape apoor _Junggeselle_ has?

"Told him she wanted to marry him! Not I. Why, _liebe Frau_, I havenot lived sixty-five and a half years in this world for nothing! If Ilet him suppose she was in love with him, that would be the very wayto make him like her. So as I laid the cloth for the Herr Professor's_Abendtisch_, I remarked casually that Fräulein Bettine Meyer was notat all a bad sort of woman really, and that she had some excellentqualities, if only she did not make herself so ridiculous. 'Howridiculous?' says he, sitting up. 'What does she do ridiculous, Ishould like to know?' 'Why, wears a false front and curls bought atFrau Kölsch's shop, ' says I. 'Poor thing, she can't make herself lookyoung and beautiful, whatever she does, and Frau Rittmeister Bernstorfwas laughing at her the other day, and at the high heels and at thestuffing the _Schneiderin_ round the corner puts into her gowns tocover the angular bones! She would look much more respectable, ' saidI, 'if she would brush her scanty grey locks back, and smooth themwith pomatum as I do, and wear a black lace _Mütze_ over them, insteadof making herself the laughing-stock of Schleswig. ' And away I walked. And the Professor ate no supper that night, and next day he left forhis _Ferienausflug_, and never called to say good-bye to FräuleinMeyer; and so I put the extinguisher on that little candle just as itsflame was beginning to burn up, and--why! here we are at Mainz. "

And this is what I heard, and how I was entertained, in the"elektrische Bahn" on my little expedition from Wiesbaden to Mainz. Ireflected, as I saw the Haushälterin get down heavily with all thedeliberation of her sixty-five and a half years, that feline amenitiesare much the same in Germany as in England; and I felt sorry for poorFräulein Meyer, who might have given up her small vanities and madepancakes and _Apfelkuchen_ for the Professor quite as well in the endas the Haushälterin. 

The cathedral of Mainz was, of course, the object of our expedition. It dominates the city from afar, with its wonderful towers andpinnacles, making of Mainz (a commonplace city enough) a thing ofbeauty. From the shores of the Rhine we crossed a wide street plantedwith trees and lined on each hand with modern German houses of pinkishstone (covered with heavy sculpture and breaking out into countlessbalconies and bay windows), and soon found ourselves in themarket-place. And here, indeed, one felt oneself in the Germany ofbygone days. Instead of pseudo-classic buildings, heavy withmeaningless ornamentation, we found beautiful old timber-framedhouses, with deep eaves and wood carvings. On one of these I read:

 Zum Kurfürstlichen Wappen. Erneuert in Jahr des Heils 1899. 

It was evidently a Gasthaus of considerable antiquity, and had beencarefully restored. Close by a Brobdingnagian finger lured the unwaryto where it pointed--a low doorway above which was inscribed thelegend: "_Hier essen Sie gut_. " The market-place had been dismantledof its stalls and umbrellas all but one, which was being furled as wearrived on the scene. A couple of men in blue smocks were sweeping upthe cabbage leaves, straw and refuse, market carts were driving off, and smart-looking officers in beautiful uniforms strolled across whatwe English miscall "a square" for want of a better word. 

But to get a good view of the exterior of the cathedral was what wewanted, and to this end we dived down strange, evil-smelling alleys, and went round and round a labyrinth of streets, always expecting tosee, and never arriving at, the cathedral's façade. At last werealised that the quest was hopeless, since the building is sosurrounded and deformed by commonplace, ugly houses that nothing of itbut roof and towers can be seen from outside. We entered it at last bya narrow lane between poor, ugly houses, an unfit approach indeed tothis beautiful Romanesque cathedral--one of the four famous RomanesqueGothic cathedrals of Germany. The general effect of the interior isthat of strength, solidity, and simplicity. The grand structural linesare noble and pure. There is an entire absence of the florid inarchitecture, and no attempt at all at decoration as one understandsit in Spanish cathedrals. The tone of the walls and floor is a pinkishbrown, and the whole church has a warm glowing effect from itsrichly-coloured stone. I could have spared most, if not all, of theoverladen rococo monuments to the Electors of Mainz, with theirmonstrous records of impossible perfections; but my companion (aGerman lady) thought them beautiful. The whole church struck one asrather ill-kept; perhaps the red stone floor had something to do withit. Dust and mud do not adhere somehow to an opus Alexandrinumpavement. A guide appeared to offer his services, almost obsequiouslypolite in his attentions to the English lady. Whatever their opinionsmay be as to our failings and vices, our shortcomings and ouriniquities, most Germans are civil to us nowadays. [3] They hate uscordially, envy us sincerely, attack us in the press and out of it, and are insanely jealous of the people they affect to despise. Butwhile the superficial _entente_ lasts, they smile and bow and areoutwardly polite. I asked an English lady, the widow of a Germanofficial, if her husband, having married an English wife, did notcherish kindlier sentiments towards us than the majority of hiscountrymen. "He died during the Boer war, " she said, "and he died inthe sure and certain hope that England was done for. "

 [Footnote 3: This was written before the war. ]

Apart from the Domkirche, there is little to see in Mainz, althoughthe city is of great antiquity, having been founded by Drusus. It is astrongly fortified place, and stood once upon a time a memorablesiege. There are pleasant walks by the Rhine, beautiful Anlagen, apicturesque old tower, and the site of Gutenberg's house to see. TheGrand Ducal Palace once sheltered Napoleon the First, as did manyanother palace in Germany. The present Grand Duke prefers his palacein Darmstadt, the Neue Palais (built by Queen Victoria for PrincessAlice), and comes little to the ancient city of bygone Electors. 

We have fallen into German ways--alarming thought!--and becomeunquestionably alive to the virtues of cafés and Restaurations as awind-up to a day's expedition. At Mainz we discovered a café close tothe theatre, and sipped coffee and ate _Streuselkuchen_ out of doorsin the shadow of the cathedral and Gutenberg's statue. Apleasant-faced Gretchen brought us miniature Mont Blancs of whippedcream on small glass plates, and loitered near us ostensiblyrearranging a table, but in reality studying our gowns and hats. Before we paid our Rechnung, the Haushälterin and Frau Rittergutsbesitzerturned up hot and rather cross, having spent their time since weparted in futile attempts to match Schleswig-Holstein ribbons withthose of the sunny Rhineland. 

 SCHLANGENBAD. 

 GREEN HILLS AND BLUE WATERS. 

Schlangenbad, although a charmingly pretty spot, is not one tofascinate a painter. The landscape is unvaryingly green, and thatgreen is too monotonous in tone for effect in a picture. Moreover, itlies shut in by hills, and there is no distant horizon to give thevalue of foreground and middle distance. But less critical eyes findmuch to admire in Schlangenbad. The great wide road leading to it fromEltville testifies to its former popularity in the days of familycoaches and postilions. Nowadays an ugly steam tram transports thetraveller from the Rhine to the "Serpent's Bath, " and nearly poisonsand chokes him _en route_ with the horrible smoke it emits. Half ofthe tram is open to the air at the sides, like a char-a-banc; and whenwe travelled by it a little party of Germans were enjoying an_Ausflug_, each man with one eye cocked on the scenery and the otheron the look-out for a _Bier-garten_. 

Next to me sat a student, whose face was so slashed and gashed that itreminded one of "Amtshauptmann Weber" (in Reuter's delightful book), whose "face looked as if he had sat down upon it on a cane-bottomedchair. " Opposite the student was a middle-aged fat "Assessor, " with asmall girl in long frilled drawers and short petticoats; and on theother side of the gangway were two homely-looking women inlead-coloured garments. As we passed through Altdorf the child drewher father's attention to a fat goose which waddled away as the tramapproached. "_Sieh mal, Vater_, " said she, "_die schöne Gans_. "("Look, father, at the beautiful goose. ") "O! _die Gans_, " said herpractical and prosaic parent, "_wird viel schöner sein, mein Kind, wenn sie gebraten ist_. " ("The goose will be much more beautiful, mychild, when it is roast. ") "And has an accompaniment of sage-stuffingand apple-sauce, " I added, to which he in all serious conviction bowedan assent. 

The valley up which we journeyed was green and pleasant. There were nowalls or fences on either side of the road, but trees shaded thewayfarer, and his outlook on gardens, bean-poles, orchards, and vineswas agreeable enough. If he chose to look further afield a silverystreak called the Rhine was visible, and beyond that again low bluehills stretched away until their cobalt and that of the sky got mixedon the palette of Nature. From this valley comes the famousRauen-thaler wine. Most of the hills, indeed, are covered with vines, and the village houses showed grapes hanging from their eaves andpeeping in at their windows. 

At Neudorf we paused to pick up a _Barmherzige Schwester_; and as ourhalt was exactly in front of the village shop I amused myself bymaking a mental inventory of its contents. The window--an ordinaryone--had wooden shelves nailed across it; and on these were displayedsoap, slates and slate-pencils, bottles of peppermint lozenges, hearthstone, flannel, lemon-drops, gingham, sausages, and gingerbread. 

The houses of the village were covered with rough stucco, and white oryellow-wash was swished liberally over them. Under their deep eaves anoccasional small image of _Die Mutter Gottes_ was to be seen. Manywere covered with grape-vines, and all had clean muslin blinds attheir windows, and often pots of geraniums and fuchsias outside. Sunflowers, dahlias, and roses grew in the little patches of garden bythe road; and all was charming and primitive, save for the discordantelectric fittings which hung midway on the telegraph-posts, and theanomaly of a brand new brick _Brod-fabrik_ just outside the village. 

All the way up the "cane-bottomed chair" and the "Assessor" smokedstolidly, while their women-folk cackled like human geese. "_Wieschön!_" "_Colossal!_" "_Entzückend!_" "_Reizend!_" Nothing butincessant and weary adjectives! I turned with relief to the"Barmherzige Schwester, " a prim and silent little figure in neat bluecotton gown, black apron, and white kerchief pinned over her shininghair. 

The tram stopped at last before the village church, and we all gotout. To our left, as we faced the Kurhaus, straggled a long line ofhouses with deep verandahs and balconies, to our right shady walks andbath-houses and beautiful woods. Here and there amid the hotels andvillas was a shop, and we knew that Schlangenbad marched with thetimes when we saw the word "_Schamponieren_" and a bunch of Empirecurls exhibited as a modern trophy. We stopped at a shop and examinedits wares, which, indeed, hung chiefly on the shutters. There wereSwiss embroidered gowns and blouses to be bought, edelweiss penwipers, wooden paper-cutters, and clocks with chamois climbing wooden rocks. Nothing apparently in that shop had been "made in Germany. " When wereached the verandah of the "Nassauer Hof" we were gladdened by bowsfrom the "Assessor" and the student, who with the "cackling geese"were seated at a long table consuming piles of Apfelkuchen, Streuselkuchen, and Napfkuchen to an accompaniment of steaming coffee. 

As for dull, useful information Schlangenbad, of course, was known tothe Romans, and they bathed in its waters. The Middle Ages seem tohave neglected Spas generally, and to have been dead to the joys of abath. At all events, nothing more was heard about Schlangenbad or itssprings until in 1687 a wooden hut was put over what was known as the"Römer Bad. " Next the Landgraf of Hesse awoke to the virtues of itswaters, and caused the "Oberes Kurhaus" to be built. Five yearslater, the "Nassauer Hof" was erected, and a time of prosperity andfashion set in for Schlangenbad. The waters have always had a greatreputation for beautifying the skin and healing wounds and sores. Itis on record that Frederick the First of Sweden ordered four thousandbottles of Schlangenbad water a year as _eau de toilette_, and anotherand still vainer sovereign three hundred a week. After this who shalldare say that women have the monopoly of vanity?

Besides embellishing, the Schlangenbad waters are good in nervousdisorders, rheumatism, and asthma. They are of an exquisite light-bluecolour, and when bathing in them one's limbs have the appearance ofmarble. That the Schlangenbad people think highly of their "cure" isobvious. I bought a map of the district (manufactured in the place)and found the word Schlangenbad printed in huge letters, while theneighbouring town of Wiesbaden was in such small ones that it lookedas if scarcely worth mentioning at all. 

 LIEBENSTEIN. 

Here in the Thuringian Forest, aloof from the stir and roar of life, lies a Kur-Ort little known to the English world. Its waters areanalogous to those of Schwalbach, its air is as pure, its scenery morebeautiful, and its prices half those of the Taunus Wald. Its peoplestill retain their primitive charm, unspoilt as yet by thepotentialities of South African or American money-bags. Within easyreach of such interesting towns as Eisenach, Weimar, Erfurt, Gotha, and Coburg, it offers many alluring baits to the sightseer; yet to thecoming and going of tourists is it altogether unaccustomed. Liebenstein lies in a green and beautiful valley, and the hills whichsurround it are covered for the most part with great black forests. Patches of wheat and rye vibrate in the winds which sweep up thevalleys, and the fields of potatoes alternate on the low grounds withpasturage and orchards. Under the great limestone rocks, which nearLiebenstein rise sheer out of the plain, nestle charming villages, andlong avenues of poplars conduct you where you would go along the highroads. By the roadside a wealth of flowers is yours for thepicking--wild thyme and asparagus and mallow, periwinkles, and thepicturesque dock and crowfoot. The woods are starred with flowers, andthe perfume of the pines is a revelation. 

The humbler houses of Liebenstein (for the greater part timber-framedand red-tiled) straggle up the immediate hills which surround it. Those of more pretention and inevitable ugliness range themselvesdecently and in order along two parallel roads. Aloof as this villageis from "the madding crowd's ignoble strife, " it has yet been touchedto its undoing by the ruthless finger of conventionality. Theinevitable Kur-Haus and bandstand and Anlagen are here; worst of all, a Trink-Halle! The Trink-Halle stands a mute and awful warning to thevaulting ambition which overleaps itself, since a classic temple inthe heart of Liebenstein is surely as much out of place as a tiarawould be on the head of the peasant woman who hands you your dailyportion of Stahlwasser. Even the spring it originally sheltered hasrevolted against its sham marble pillars and grotesque entablature, and betaken itself elsewhere! Nowadays the paint and plaster arepeeling off the columns, and its door is padlocked. Happily--althougha melancholy warning to the educated--it remains a source of pride tothe peasant, who loves his shabby temple as the Romans do the marbleglories of their Vesta. 

Immediately behind the temple are the springs of Georg and Kasimir, atwhich stand two charming maidens ready to fill your glasses. Noconventional and hideous hat or bonnet disfigures the neat outline oftheir heads. No travesty of Berlin or Paris fashion burlesques theirsturdy figures. Theirs the traditional costume of the Thuringianfemale peasant--a dark skirt, and white, short-sleeved chemisette, ablue apron and the daintiest of white silk kerchiefs, fringed sparselyand brocaded abundantly with red roses. Albeit their arms are red andcoarse with the combined effect of iron-water, hot sun, and exposureto the air, their faces make ample amends in their innocent, good-tempered comeliness. They greet you with a kindly "Guten Tag" or"Guten Abend, " and, in the case of a lady, seldom omit the pretty"Gnädige Frau, " for which our "Ma'am" is but a poor correlative. 

Wandering through the streets of Liebenstein, one is struck by theintensely picturesque sights of its older and original part. Thelittle houses are timber-framed and whitewashed, with deep projectingeaves and often many gables. Their windows are made gay outside byboxes filled with geraniums, nasturtiums, and fuchsias. Beneath thewindows lie small gardens, in which bloom roses and single dahlias, while scarlet runners send their tendrils climbing over the palingswhich separate road and garden. Many of the little houses haveprojecting signs, on which one reads such legends as "_Tabak, Cigarren, Cigaretten_;" "Adolf Schmidt, _Herren kleidermacher_;""_Weinhandlung Naturreinheit garantirt_;" or the very indispensable"_Bäckerei_. " One house bears a tablet announcing to an admiring worldthat "_Herzoglich. Sachsen-Meiningen Stadtesbeamter_" lives within. Cocks and hens, dogs and children, make common playground of thesenarrow streets, and one sees in them pretty well every form of animallife represented, except horses. Now a long cart, drawn by oxen andwell filled, toils up the hill, and not long after follows one drawnby a big dog. At a pump two tiny girls are busily employed fillingstone jars, which by the beauty and purity of their outlines mighthave been Etruscan. Mothers beat mats at their cottage doors, andshrilly scream at their children to get out of the way of the passingcarts; and the world in this remote village goes on pretty much as itdoes elsewhere. 

But the fashionable life of Liebenstein does not concern itself withsuch mean sights and bucolic sounds as oxen-carts and crowing ofcocks. It takes its pleasure up and down the long avenues of beechtrees which lie between the Kur-Haus and the Hôtel Bellevue. Itrallies round the bandstand, and makes great show of studying theprogrammes of the daily concert. It chatters glibly over the previousevening's illuminations, and describes them as "_colossal!_" and"_wunderschön_. " Beauty is not in vogue at Liebenstein, judging by themiddle-class Kur guests who haunt the shade of the beech trees. Indeed, if anywhere in the world an Englishman might be forgiven forthanking God that he is not as other men are, it would be here amongthe "_Ober-Lieutenants_" and "Herr Professors" and their mates. Figures, both male and female, seem to be of the switchbackorder--faces rudimentary in their modelling, and uncompromising intheir plainness, dressing of the ugliest. Yet, _Gott sei Dank!_ Hansthinks his Gretchen perfection, and it would never enter into innocentGretchen's head, as it does mine, to bestow upon Hans the carpingcriticism of Portia upon Monsieur Le Bon: "God made him, and thereforelet him pass for a man. "

 TRÈVES

The dominant glory of the Moselle region is Trèves. No town or citynear has the smallest affinity with its peculiar character, and allseem modern and prosaic compared with its well-preserved tale ofantiquity. "Nowhere north of the Alps, " we are told in wearyiteration, "exist such magnificent Roman remains. " It is generally onthe obvious that the unimaginative English parson takes upon himselfto comment. We listen submissively to much school-book lore as to"Claudius" and the "fourth century" and the "residence of RomanEmperors, " but when it rains Bishops and Archbishops and Electors wefly before them. For, after all, what signifies the paltry learning ofa dry-as-dust dominie compared with the vivid tales these grand oldruins tell if suffered to speak for themselves? In Trèves people needto absorb silently, and then assimilate undisturbed by weary chatter. One looks at the tender turquoise sky, flecked with luminous clouds;at the fine horizontal distance, with its sense of breadth andbreathing-space; at the low hills covered with vines; at thecornfields, and orchards, and river--and we wonder what the old Romansthought of it all, and reflect on the strangeness of life that apeople so remote from our times should have lived and loved and died, as we live and love and die to-day. Whether Trèves lie on the right orleft bank of the Moselle is immaterial except to the tiresomelyprecise or to those who pin their faith to guide-books and suchshallow teachers. There is a more valuable lesson to be learnt of theplace than that of its exact situation; and no Baedeker or Murray canhelp you to appreciate Trèves as quiet communings with your ownintelligence will. If it so happens that you have none to communewith, then God help you--and yours!

In Trèves you have not far to go in search of the Romans. Their_magnum opus_ confronts you boldly at the very threshold of the town. Solid and massive and symmetrical, it stands a pregnant lesson to thejerry-builders of to-day. There is little affinity indeed between thebuilding methods of the ancient Romans and those of their trade whosesorry, pitiable record exists in the Quartiere Nuovo of Rome. Aboutthe Porta Nigra is no trace of stucco or rubble. The huge blocks ofwhich it is built stand one upon the other clean-hewn and square. Nosigns of mortar are left, but we see marks of iron or brass clamps. Its colour is a warm, deep red, softened here and there by streaks ofgreen. 

The Porta Nigra has passed through strange phases since first itstarted in life as a city gate. Obviously built for purposes offortification, and equipped with towers of defence, its second phasewas an ecclesiastical one, and the "spears" were indeed turned into"pruning-hooks" when the bellicose propugnaculum found itselftransformed into a church. 

 "Last scene of all, That ends this strange, eventful history. "

The gate was in 1876 finally cleared of priests and altars, andallowed to revert to its original form. 

Not far from the Porta Nigra stands the Cathedral, one of the oldestin Germany, archæologically interesting, inasmuch as it owes itsinception to the Romans. The Basilica, built by Valentinian as a courtof law, is clearly traceable in the present cathedral, and one reads astrange tale of Romans and Franks in the sandstone and limestone andbrick of its walls. Here is treasured the famous Heilige Rock, or holycoat worn by our Saviour when a boy. At rare intervals this garment isexhibited to the faithful, who come from all countries to gazereverently upon it. Who that has seen can forget the last expositionin 1891? Never before or since has there been anything more patheticthan the sight of the long rows of tired, haggard, perspiring, prayingpilgrims, who stood patiently for hours in the broiling August sun, moving only when permitted, and then at a snail's pace, towards theirMecca. Plebeian though the majority of faces were, their devotional, solemn, rapt expressions for the time being ennobled and beautifiedthem. 

Trèves during that time, however, was by no means the reposeful, dignified city it is to-day. Its buildings were defaced with flags andbanners, its streets blocked with pilgrims, and the road leading fromthe station to the town was lined with booths, whose owners disposedquickly of such delicacies as Napfkuchen, Streusel-Kuchen, andApfelwein. Piety and profit went everywhere hand-in-hand, and aroaring trade was done in rosaries and bénitiers, the last made of theblue pottery of the country, and stamped with a representation of LeoXIII. Against a background of Domkirche. 

But to be thoroughly in harmony with Trèves one must be Pagan andRoman rather than Christian and German. Indeed, one feels in sympathywith the Isle of Wight farmer who after he had found a Roman villa onhis farm gave up the bucolic and inglorious occupation of growingturnips and potatoes, and could talk of nothing meaner than hypocaustsand thermae. So we, like the farmer, slight the really beautiful EarlyGothic "Liebfrauenkirche" and roam and muse for hours about the ruinsof the Amphitheatre, the Roman Baths, the Roman Palace and theBasilica. 

 LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, DUKE STREET, STAMFORD STREET, S. E. , AND GREAT WINDMILL STREET, W. 

 TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES

page 23--inserted a missing closing quote after 'Dank!'page 36--inserted a missing period after 'Burns'page 61--inserted a missing closing quote after 'France'page 82--typo fixed: changed a comma into a period after 'pavement'page 83--typo fixed: changed a comma into a period after 'Electors'page 93--spelling normalized: changed the position of semi-colon and a quote after 'Cigaretten'