Ida Darwin and the refugees, 1914

Refugees_from_Belgium_in_Paris,_1914.jpg

Ida Darwin and her husband Horace were staying at a spa in the Haute Savoie, south-eastern France, when the Great War broke out on 4 August 1914. At first they thought they would wait until things settled down – only on 19 August did they decide to set out for home. This story is based on a letter that Ida wrote in September 1914 to her son Erasmus.

Ida and Horace arrived in Paris early on Tuesday 25 August, exhausted by their long train journey from Lyons and intending to rest in a hotel for a day or two. The streets that they knew well were now eerily empty. One shop on the Rue de la Paix carried a notice on its plate glass window saying that the owner and employees had gone off to war and asking the public to protect his property. Outside their hotel Ida observed people ‘eagerly buying the fresh editions of the papers with the accounts of the German advance & the beginnings of the fighting at Mons & standing still on the pavement to read them.’ They decided that it would be wise to leave Paris on the first train available, so Ida left Horace in their hotel room and went to have their passports stamped at the British Consulate.

They boarded a train leaving Paris that evening. As the train headed north Ida was struck by what she saw from her carriage window.

Our train stopped at every station & the carriages were besieged by soldiers begging for French newspapers. As we went along we saw rows & rows of horses and artillery silhouetted on the evening sky, & at Chantilly as we passed through the station was full of women & children camping out. These were the first of the refugees that we had seen.

They disembarked at Amiens at 11pm, where another train was supposed to take them on to the ferry port of Boulogne. The promised train did not arrive. Ida managed to find a porter, who told them that a trainload of wounded soldiers was expected at any moment and all other trains had been held up. It was the second night of the Battle of Mons and most of Amiens’s larger buildings had been turned into impromptu hospitals.

As they stood on the platform, unsure of what to do, Ida watched uniformed British Red Cross men darting about making preparations. Train upon train pulled in, each disgorging not wounded men, but more and more refugee families, who were then shunted on to other trains. Their porter stared at the bedraggled women and children crowding the platforms, muttering ‘Ah! Mais ce n’est pas gai.’ Ida described the pitiful scene to Erasmus.

Many of the people looked very poor & others were well to do. All with children or dogs. One sick woman was being carried on her bed by 2 priests, another by her friends – there were little nuns too, & farm labourers and their bundles. The whole station was full of the shrill sound of women’s and children’s voices, until that lot was sent off & another was poured out afresh onto the platform. And all the time there was a slow procession on the further side of trains carrying gun carriages, covered carts & other war material & endless strings of the Nord engines, being withdrawn from the enemy.

Ida and Horace took turns sitting on their trunk and bags, not daring to move far from each other for fear of getting separated in the crush of people. Their porter waited with them. Ida told Erasmus how ‘that long night 25th to 26th – the second of the battle of Mons – in the great black station with its couching arc lights & its panting engines & its ever growing crowds of refugees, is burnt into one’s memory for ever.’ She tried hard not to think about plume-helmeted Prussian troops on horseback, riding into the station with their bayonets aloft.

When dawn came Ida shared out their remaining chocolate and biscuits with the mothers of crying babies, and wondered if she would ever see England again. Then, just after 6.30am, the train to Boulogne arrived, and their faithful porter managed to bundle them into a carriage with their luggage. Ida couldn’t help noticing that it was a third class carriage, but she did not mind.

They travelled with five weeping women and their children. One mother with a baby girl and two young boys told Ida that she had been given an hour’s notice to leave her home near Cambrai on the French-Belgian border. She told Ida that they had spent all of the previous hot day travelling by train, and when they stopped at one station, kind English soldiers had run along the platform, passing their tin mugs of water up to the thirsty children.

Ida and Horace sailed from Boulogne on Wednesday afternoon, six English gunboats guarding their ship’s passage across the Channel. She told Erasmus how strange it was to look out of their Folkestone hotel window on Thursday morning and see Englishmen and women, towels under their arms, peacefully strolling down to the beach. Three days later the cross-Channel ships stopped running.

© Ann Kennedy Smith, 15 November 2018

My next post will be about Ida and her friends’ (including Eliza von Hügel)  involvement with Belgian refugees in 1914-18. This year’s ‘A Window On The War’ project has more information about a wide range of Cambridge women’s work during the Great War, with an excellent photographic exhibition now at Michaelhouse Café until 24 November. Its curator J. E. Bounford’s fascinating blog is here

Sources: Ida Darwin, Making for home, August 1914 (Blackwater Press, 1995). For more information about Ida Darwin, see Headway Cambridgeshire’s timeline.

Isy’s travels: Baroness Eliza von Hügel (1840-1931)

Anatole_von_Hügel_plaqueIn 1913 Cambridge University’s Museum of Archeology and Anthropology opened the doors to its beautiful new building on Downing Street. It is still there today, with over a million artefacts telling ‘countless astonishing stories’ of human civilisation. When the original museum was founded in 1884 its largest collection was 1,500 objects from Fiji, many collected by the man who became the museum’s first curator, Anatole Von Hügel, a Scottish-Austrian Baron of the Holy Roman Empire. A new field-based approach to anthropology was fast developing in the late nineteenth century, with new, ever more far-flung expeditions bringing back objects, photographs and information for close study. The museum’s collection soon outgrew its original Cambridge premises, and Von Hügel turned his energies to raising funds for a new building. His wife, Baroness Eliza von Hügel assisted him in this, and in 1910 she laid the museum’s foundation stone.

Eliza von Hügel, more often known as ‘Isy’, was born Eliza Margaret Froude in 1840, the daughter of the engineer and naval architect William Froude F.R.S and his wife Catherine (nee Holdsworth). Isy’s uncle J.A. Froude was a historian who became the friend and biographer of Carlisle and she was brought up in Cockington, near Torquay in Devon.  She was 35 when she agreed to marry the 21-year old Anatole Von Hügel, who had moved to Torquay when his father, the Austrian Count Karl Von Hügel, an army officer, diplomat, explorer and plant hunter, retired there in 1867. Anatole and Isy’s shared faith partly explains their decision to marry despite the fourteen-year age gap: Isy and her mother had converted to Roman Catholicism in the late 1850s and were close friends with Cardinal Newman.

As a couple they had more than religious convictions in common. Isy’s mother’s family, the Holdsworths, were traders and collectors in their own right and a number of Polynesian items from Captain Cook’s voyages were gifted to the Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology by Arthur Holdsworth, Isy’s cousin. Soon after Isy and Anatole became engaged in 1875, he went abroad for the sake of his health. He chose Fiji originally because of his ornithological interests, but soon realized that because the islands had recently become a British colony, much of its indigenous culture would be lost if he and his fellow explorers did not record and preserve as much of it as they could. He did not return to England for three years, but he and Isy exchanged long letters.

In 1880 they married and moved to Cambridge, where Anatole took up his post as museum curator, the first Catholic to hold a university position at Cambridge. They lived in Croft Cottage on Barton Road and built a chapel at Croft Cottage for Catholic worship soon after they moved to the house, and together they were one of the university’s first ‘power couples’, campaigning to change university rules to admit the first Catholic undergraduates to Cambridge. In 1893 Eliza became the first president of the Children of Mary, a nationwide Catholic teaching organisation, and Croft Cottage was also a social centre for Anatole’s university colleagues and for Isy’s own intellectual discussion groups. These included her friends from the newly founded women’s colleges at Newnham and Girton, and the twelve women who belonged to the Ladies’ Dining Society.

But Isy was not content to pursue her interests in Cambridge alone. After donating much of her own money to found the Museum of Archeology and Anthropology and laying the foundation stone in 1910 she decided that she wanted to discover the world for herself, and in 1912, at the age of fifty-two, she travelled with her niece Mary Froude to Morocco and the Canary Islands. The Museum still contains items from her independent travels, including, as listed in the catalogue:

a cowbell made by the last of the descendants of a family made in 1911 at Guimar, Tenerife by the last of the descendants of a family in whom the hereditary right was vested of making cattle bells for the entire group of islands.

What was Eliza von Hügel like? After she died in 1931, the anonymous writer of her obituary in The Tablet obituary described her as ‘bright to the last’.

Minute in stature and delicately made, she was something of an elf; and her mind flitted here and there —though almost always alighting on a serious topic—like an elf earnestly engaged on good work.

We haven’t yet been able to trace a photograph or painting of Isy, but she was clearly a charismatic and influential figure. Like the other women in her circle including Ida Darwin, Mary  Paley Marshall and Louise Creighton, Eliza von Hügel worked on a voluntary basis for many years to improve living conditions for others in Cambridge and beyond.

In September 1914 she launched an independent campaign to house Belgian refugees in Cambridge. Instead of women and children, as Anatole von Hügel recalled, ‘large family groups’ arrived,  ‘which it would have been both difficult and unkind to break up.’ Isy took this in her stride admirably and enlisted others to find empty houses that could be used by family groups: ‘the “Hügel Homes” were set on foot, and a fund for their upkeep was at once started by those who had already promised support to the Baroness’s first proposal.’ Isy used her own funds and undiminished energies to ensure that Belgian families were able to stay together safely in Cambridge for the duration of the war.

By Ann Kennedy Smith and Carolyn Ferguson, with thanks to the Museum of Archeology and Anthropology for access to their special collections

Sources: Eliza von Hügel obituary, The Tablet, 26 December 1931; Museum of Archeology and Anthropology website (accessed 31.12.2017); Hügel Homes for Belgian refugees: Cambridge 1914-19 A. von Hügel (Cambridge, 1920)