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Updated: June 26, 2025
I spent many a delightful half-hour chatting with Héloïse Dessault, formerly at Fouquet's in Champs Elysées; with Mizzi Schwarz, one-time frequenter of the Café de l'Europe, in Vienna; with Hedwig Zinkeisen, of Berlin's Palais de Danse....
It is only fair to Berlin's admirable police president, von Jagow, to say that they are not. If one leaves the officers, who are a fine, upstanding, well-groomed lot, out of the account, the inhabitants of Berlin are almost grotesque in their dowdiness.
"Unter den Linden," Berlin's famous street, owes its name, fame and shade to the handsome European species, the white-lined leaves of which turn up in the faintest breeze, to show silvery against the deep green of their upper surfaces.
For they we may kill the laughter of Berlin's streets as we have killed it in Paris but we can never kill the heart, the spirit and the living, quivering corpuscles of German blood. The French may drink stronger stuffs, eat richer foods and love oftener than the Germans, and may be better fighters but they cannot laugh, they cannot sing as the Germans laugh and sing.
Near this is the Marien Kirche, with its high spire, its Abbot's Cross the emblem of Old Berlin before the entrance, and on the inner walls its frescos of the Dance of Death, painted to commemorate the plague which ravaged Berlin in 1460. Adjoining this church, in the Neue Markt, Berlin's statue of Luther is to be erected.
Striding down one of Berlin's main streets in that summer of 1914, now so historic, he was chatting amiably with his chum, Jules Epain, a resident, like himself, of Berlin. "So it's war, eh?" he asked his chum in French. "War?" There was silence for a little while, and then from Jules: "And we are here, in Berlin, the Kaiser's city!"
The poor King must repent. "Well, is there anything more? Out with it, then; better now than too late!" Much oppression, forcing men to build in Berlin. "Oppression? was it not their benefit, as well as Berlin's and the Country's? I had no interest in it other. Derschau, you who managed it?" and his Majesty turned to Derschau.
You will find them seeking the romance of Berlin's greying night amid the Turkish cigarette smoke and stale wine smells of the half-breed cabarets marshalled along the Jägerstrasse, the Behrenstrasse and their tributaries. You will find them up a flight of stairs in one of the all-night Linden cafés, throwing celluloid balls at the weary, patient, left-over women.
Pictures of a wasted past arose in me as though they would banish me from you. I was on the verge of tears, as when, after a school vacation, I caught sight of Berlin's towers from the train.
Austria, at their mercy, has acted, not upon its own initiative or upon the choice of its own people, but at Berlin's dictation ever since the War began. Its people now desire peace, but they cannot have it until leave is granted from Berlin. The so-called Central Powers are, in fact, but a single Power.
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