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diff --git a/18364-h/18364-h.htm b/18364-h/18364-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d6db989 --- /dev/null +++ b/18364-h/18364-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11941 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of My War Experiences in Two Continents, by Sarah Macnaughtan</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;} + + h1,h2,h3,h4 {text-align: center; clear: both;} + + hr {width: 33%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + hr.full {width: 65%;} + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + table .tdl {text-align: left;} + table .tdr {text-align: right;} + td p.part {margin-top: 2em;} + td p.chap {margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 0;} + + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + + img {border: none;} + + a {text-decoration: none;} + + ul {list-style-type: none;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; right: 2%; font-size: smaller; text-align: right;} + + .blockquot {margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + + .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: 0.5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em; + float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 0.5em; + font-size: smaller; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: none;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .right {text-align: right;} + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: text-top; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + + .tn {background-color: #EEE; color: inherit; margin: 2em 10% 1em 10%; + font-size: 80%; padding: 0.5em 1em 0.5em 1em;} + + .totoc {right: 2%; position: absolute; text-align: right;} + h2 .totoc {font-size: 60%;} + + .lh_ind0 {text-align: right; margin-bottom: 0; margin-top: 0;} + .lh_ind2 {text-align: right; margin-bottom: 0; margin-top: 0; margin-right: 2em;} + .lh_ind4 {text-align: right; margin-bottom: 0; margin-top: 0; margin-right: 4em;} + .lh_ind6 {text-align: right; margin-bottom: 0; margin-top: 0; margin-right: 6em;} + .lf_ind6 {text-align: right; margin-bottom: 0; margin-top: 0; margin-right: 6em;} + .lf_sal {text-align: right; margin-bottom: 0; margin-top: 0; margin-right: 4em;} + .lf_ind3 {text-align: right; margin-bottom: 0; margin-top: 0; margin-right: 3em;} + .lf_sig {text-align: right; margin-top: 0; margin-right: 2em;} + + .correction {text-decoration: none; border-bottom: 1px dotted;} + + hr.pg { width: 100%; } + pre {font-size: 75%;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, My War Experiences in Two Continents, by +Sarah Macnaughtan, Edited by Betty Keays-Young</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: My War Experiences in Two Continents</p> +<p>Author: Sarah Macnaughtan</p> +<p>Editor: Betty Keays-Young</p> +<p>Release Date: May 10, 2006 [eBook #18364]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY WAR EXPERIENCES IN TWO CONTINENTS***</p> +<p> </p> +<h4>E-text prepared by David Clarke, gvb,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (<a href="http://www.pgdp.net/">http://www.pgdp.net/</a>)<br /> + from page images generously made available by<br /> + Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries<br /> + (<a href="http://www.archive.org/details/toronto">http://www.archive.org/details/toronto</a>)</h4> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" style="background-color: #eeeeff;" cellpadding="10"> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + <b>Note:</b> + </td> + <td> + <b>Images of the original pages are available through + Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries. See</b> + <a href="http://www.archive.org/details/wartwocontinents00macnuoft"> + <b>http://www.archive.org/details/wartwocontinents00macnuoft</b></a> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +<p> </p> +<div class="tn"> +<h3>Transcriber’s note:</h3> + +<p>The unique headers on the odd numbered pages in the original book have +been reproduced as sidenotes. They have been inserted into +the paragraph or letter to which the heading refers.</p> + +<p>There are several inconsistencies in spelling and punctuation in the original. +A few corrections have been made for obvious typographical errors; +these, as well as some doubtful spellings of names, have been <a class="correction" title="like this">noted</a> +individually in the text.</p> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<hr class="pg" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + + +<h1>MY WAR EXPERIENCES</h1> +<h1>IN TWO CONTINENTS</h1> + + + + +<hr class="full" /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 40%;"> +<a href="images/frontis.jpg"> +<img src="images/frontis-th.jpg" width="100%" +alt="Camera Portrait by E. O. Hoppé."/> +</a> +<p class="right">Camera Portrait by E. O. Hoppé.</p> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 40%;"> +<a href="images/sig.jpg"> +<img src="images/sig-th.jpg" width="100%" +alt="Signature: S. Macnaughton."/> +</a> +</div> +<hr class="full" /> + + +<h1>MY WAR EXPERIENCES<br /> +IN TWO CONTINENTS</h1> + + +<h2 style="margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;"><span class="smcap">By</span> S. MACNAUGHTAN</h2> + + +<h3>EDITED BY HER NIECE, MRS. LIONEL SALMON<br /> +(BETTY KEAYS-YOUNG)</h3> + + + + +<h4 style="margin-top: 8em; margin-bottom: 10em;">WITH A PORTRAIT</h4> + + + + + + +<h2>LONDON<br /> +JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, W.<br /> +1919</h2> + + + +<hr class="full" /> +<h4>THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED,<br /> +IN ACCORDANCE WITH A WISH EXPRESSED BY<br /> +MISS MACNAUGHTAN BEFORE HER DEATH,<br /> + +TO</h4> + +<h2>THOSE WHO ARE FIGHTING AND<br /> +THOSE WHO HAVE FALLEN,</h2> + +<h4>WITH ADMIRATION AND RESPECT,<br /> +AND TO</h4> + +<h2>HER NEPHEWS,</h2> + +<div style="margin-left: 27%;"> +<p><span class="smcap">Captain Lionel Salmon</span>, 1st Bn. the Welch Regt.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Captain Helier Percival</span>, M.C., 9th Bn. the Welch Regt.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Captain Alan Young</span>, 2nd Bn. the Welch Regt.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Captain Colin Macnaughtan</span>, 2nd Dragoon Guards.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lieutenant Richard Young</span>, 9th Bn. the Welch Regt.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="full" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> + +<div class="center"> +<table summary="Table of Contents" border="0"> + <tbody> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdr"><span style="font-size: 90%">PAGE</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#PREFACE">PREFACE</a></td> + <td class="tdr">ix</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><p class="part">PART I<br />BELGIUM</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><p class="chap">CHAPTER I</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_I_I">ANTWERP</a></td> + <td class="tdr">1</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><p class="chap">CHAPTER II</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_I_II">WITH DR. HECTOR MUNRO'S FLYING AMBULANCE CORPS</a></td> + <td class="tdr">24</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><p class="chap">CHAPTER III</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_I_III">AT FURNES RAILWAY-STATION</a></td> + <td class="tdr">60</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><p class="chap">CHAPTER IV</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_I_IV">WORKING UNDER DIFFICULTIES</a></td> + <td class="tdr">85</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><p class="chap">CHAPTER V</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_I_V">THE SPRING OFFENSIVE</a></td> + <td class="tdr">111</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><p class="chap">CHAPTER VI</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_I_VI">LAST DAYS IN FLANDERS</a></td> + <td class="tdr">135</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><p class="part"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</a></span>PART II<br />AT HOME</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#AT_HOME">HOW THE MESSAGE WAS DELIVERED</a></td> + <td class="tdr">159</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><p class="part">PART III<br />RUSSIA AND THE PERSIAN FRONT</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><p class="chap">CHAPTER I</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_III_I">PETROGRAD</a></td> + <td class="tdr">179</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><p class="chap">CHAPTER II</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_III_II">WAITING FOR WORK</a></td> + <td class="tdr">204</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><p class="chap">CHAPTER III</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_III_III">SOME IMPRESSIONS OF TIFLIS AND ARMENIA</a></td> + <td class="tdr">219</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><p class="chap">CHAPTER IV</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_III_IV">ON THE PERSIAN FRONT</a></td> + <td class="tdr">237</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><p class="chap">CHAPTER V</p></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_III_V">THE LAST JOURNEY</a></td> + <td class="tdr">258</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><p class="part"><a href="#CONCLUSION">CONCLUSION</a></p></td> + <td class="tdr">272</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#INDEX">INDEX</a></td> + <td class="tdr">258</td> + </tr> + </tbody> +</table> +</div> + +<hr class="full" /> +<h2><a name="PREFACE" id="PREFACE"></a>PREFACE +<span class="totoc"><a href="#CONTENTS">ToC</a></span></h2> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</a></span></p> + + +<p>In presenting these extracts from the diaries of +my aunt, the late Miss Macnaughtan, I feel it +necessary to explain how they come to be published, +and the circumstances under which I have undertaken +to edit them.</p> + +<p>After Miss Macnaughtan's death, her executors +found among her papers a great number of diaries. +There were twenty-five closely written volumes, +which extended over a period of as many years, +and formed an almost complete record of every +incident of her life during that time.</p> + +<p>It is amazing that the journal was kept so regularly, +as Miss Macnaughtan suffered from writer's +cramp, and the entries could only have been written +with great difficulty. Frequently a passage is +begun in the writing of her right, and finished in +that of her left hand, and I have seen her obliged +to grasp her pencil in her clenched fist before she +was able to indite a line. In only one volume, +however, do we find that she availed herself of the +services of her secretary to dictate the entries and +have them typed.</p> + +<p>The executors found it extremely difficult to +know how to deal with such a vast mass of material. +Miss Macnaughtan was a very reserved <a class="correction" title="missing period in original">woman.</a> +She<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[Pg x]</a></span> lived much alone, and the diary was her only +confidante. In one of her books she says that expression +is the most insistent of human needs, and +that the inarticulate man or woman who finds no +outlet in speech or in the affections, will often keep +a little locked volume in which self can be safely +revealed. Her diary occupied just such a place in +her own inner life, and for that reason one hesitates +to submit its pages even to the most loving and +sympathetic scrutiny.</p> + +<p>But Miss Macnaughtan's diary fulfilled a double +purpose. She used it largely as material for her +books. Ideas for stories, fragments of plays and +novels, are sketched in on spare sheets, and the +pages are full of the original theories and ideas of +a woman who never allowed anyone else to do her +thinking for her. A striking sermon or book may +be criticised or discussed, the pros and cons of +some measure of social reform weighed in the +balance; and the actual daily chronicle of her busy +life, of her travels, her various experiences and +adventures, makes a most interesting and fascinating +tale.</p> + +<p>So much of the material was obviously intended +to form the basis for an autobiography that the +executors came to the conclusion that it would be +a thousand pities to withhold it from the public, +and at some future date it is very much hoped to +produce a complete life of Miss Macnaughtan as +narrated in her diaries. Meanwhile, however, the +publisher considers that Miss Macnaughtan's war +experiences are of immediate interest to her many +friends and admirers, and I have been asked to edit +those<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[Pg xi]</a></span> volumes which refer to her work in Belgium, +at home, in Russia, and on the Persian front.</p> + +<p>Except for an occasional word where the meaning +was obscure, I have added nothing to the diaries. +I have, of course, omitted such passages as appeared +to be private or of family interest only; but otherwise +I have contented myself with a slight rearrangement +of some of the paragraphs, and I have +inserted a few letters and extracts from letters, +which give a more interesting or detailed account +of some incident than is found in the corresponding +entry in the diary. With these exceptions the +book is published as Miss Macnaughtan wrote it. +I feel sure that her own story of her experiences +would lose much of its charm if I interfered with +it, and for this reason I have preserved the actual +diary form in which it was written.</p> + +<p>To many readers of Miss Macnaughtan's books +her diaries of the war may come as a slight surprise. +There is a note of depression and sadness, and +perhaps even of criticism, running through them, +which is lacking in all her earlier writings. I would +remind people that this book is the work of a dying +woman; during the whole of the period covered by +it, the author was seriously ill, and the horror and +misery of the war, and the burden of a great deal +of personal sorrow, have left their mark on her +account of her experiences.</p> + +<p>I should like to thank those relations and friends +of Miss Macnaughtan who have allowed me to read +and publish the letters incorporated in this book, +and I gratefully acknowledge the help and advice I +have received in my task from my mother, from +my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[Pg xii]</a></span> husband, and from Miss Hilda Powell, Mr. +Stenning, and Mr. R. Sommerville. I desire also to +express my gratitude to Mr. John Murray for many +valuable hints and suggestions about the book, and +for the trouble he has so kindly taken to help me +to prepare it for the press.</p> + +<p class="lf_sig">BETTY SALMON.</p> +<p style="margin-right: 40%; text-align: center;"><span class="smcap">Zillebeke, Waltham St. Lawrence,<br /> +Twyford, Berkshire,</span><br /> +<i>October, 1918.</i><br /></p> + + + +<hr class="full" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> +<h1>MY WAR EXPERIENCES IN<br /> +TWO CONTINENTS</h1> + + +<h2>PART I</h2> + +<h3>BELGIUM</h3> + + + +<hr class="full" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I_I" id="CHAPTER_I_I"></a>CHAPTER I +<span class="totoc"><a href="#CONTENTS">ToC</a></span></h2> + +<h3>ANTWERP</h3> + + +<p>On September 20th, 1914, I left London for +Antwerp. At the station I found I had forgotten +my passport and Mary had to tear back for it. +Great perturbation, but kept this dark from the +rest of the staff, for they are all rather serious +and I am head of the orderlies. We got under +way at 4 a.m. next morning. All instantly began +to be sick. I think I was the worst and alarmed +everybody within hearing distance. One more +voyage I hope—home—then dry land for me.</p> + +<p>We arrived at Antwerp on the 22nd, twenty-four +hours late. The British Consul sent carriages, etc., +to meet us. Drove to the large Philharmonic Hall, +which has been given us as a hospital. Immediately +after breakfast we began to unpack beds, etc., and +our enormous store of medical things; all feeling +remarkably empty and queer, but put on heroic +smiles<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> and worked like mad. Some of the staff +is housed in a convent and the rest in rooms over +the Philharmonic Hall.</p> + +<p><i>23 September.</i>—Began to get things into order +and to allot each person her task. Our unit +consists of Mrs. St. Clair Stobart, its head; Doctors +Rose Turner, F. Stoney, Watts, Morris, Hanson +and Ramsey (all women); orderlies—me, Miss +Randell (interpreter), Miss Perry, Dick, Stanley, +Benjamin, <a class="correction" title="missing comma in original">Godfrey,</a> Donnisthorpe, Cunliffe, and +Mr. Glade. Everyone very zealous and inclined to +do anybody's work except their own. Keen competition +for everyone else's tools, brooms, dusters, +etc. Great roaming about. All mean well.</p> + +<p><i>25 September.</i>—Forty wounded men were +brought into our hospital yesterday. Fortunately +we had everything ready, but it took a bit of doing. +We are all dead tired, and not so keen as we were +about doing other people's work.</p> + +<p>The wounded are not very bad, and have been +sent on here from another hospital. They are +enchanted with their quarters, which indeed do +look uncommonly nice. One hundred and thirty +beds are ranged in rows, and we have a bright +counterpane on each and clean sheets. The floor is +scrubbed, and the bathrooms, store, office, kitchens, +and receiving-rooms have been made out of nothing, +and look splendid. I never saw a hospital spring +up like magic in this way before. There is a wide +verandah where the men play cards, and a garden +to stump about in.</p> + +<p>The gratitude of our patients is boundless, and +they have presented Mrs. Stobart with a beautiful +basket<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> of growing flowers. I do not think Englishmen +would have thought of such a thing. They +say they never tasted such cooking as ours outside +Paris, and they are rioting in good food, papers, +nice beds, etc. Nearly all of them are able to get +out a little, so it is quite cheery nursing them. +There is a lot to do, and we all fly about in white +caps. The keenest competition is for sweeping out +the ward with a long-handled hair brush!</p> + +<div class="sidenote">THE DEFENCES OF THE TOWN</div> + +<p>I went into the town to-day. It is very like +every other foreign town, with broad streets and +tram-lines and shops and squares, but to-day I had +an interesting drive. I took a car and went out to +the second line of forts. The whole place was a +mass of wire entanglements, mined at every point, +and the fields were studded with strong wooden +spikes. There were guns everywhere, and in one +place a whole wood and a village had been laid +level with the ground to prevent the enemy taking +cover. We heard the sound of firing last night!</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center"><i>To Mrs. Keays-Young.</i></p> + +<p class="lh_ind0"><span class="smcap">Rue de l'Harmonie 68, Antwerp,</span></p> +<p class="lh_ind4"><i>25 September.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dearest Babe,</span></p> + +<p>It was delightful getting your letter. Our +wounded are all French or Belgians, but there is a +bureau of enquiry in the town where I will go to +try to hear tidings of your poor friends.</p> + +<p>We heard the guns firing last night, and fifty +wounded were sent in during the afternoon. In one +day 2,500 wounded reached Antwerp. I can write +this sort of thing to-day as I know my letter will +be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> all right. To show you that the fighting is +pretty near, two doctors went for a short motor +drive to-day and they found two wounded men. +One was just dying, the other they brought back +in the car, but he died also. In the town itself +everything seems much as usual except for crowds +of refugees. Do not believe people when they say +German barbarity is exaggerated. It is hideously +true.</p> + +<p>We are fearfully busy, and it seems a queer side +of war to cook and race around and make doctors +as comfortable as possible. We have a capital +staff, who are made up of zeal and muscle. I do +not know how long it can last. We breakfast at +7.30, which means that most of the orderlies are up +at 5.45 to prepare and do everything. The fare is +very plain and terribly wholesome, but hardly anyone +grumbles. I am trying to get girls to take +two hours off duty in the day, but they won't +do it.</p> + +<p>Have you any friends who would send us a good +big lot of nice jam? It is for the staff. If you +could send some cases of it at once to Miss Stear, +39, St. James's Street, London, and put my name +on it, and say it is for our hospital, she will bring it +here herself with some other things. Some of your +country friends might like to help in a definite +little way like this.</p> + +<p class="lf_sal">Your loving</p> +<p class="lf_sig"><span class="smcap">Sarah.</span></p> + +<p>---- is going to England to-night and will take +this.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> +<i>27 September.</i>—Yesterday, when we were in the +town, a German airship flew overhead and dropped +bombs. A lot of guns fired at it, but it was too +high up to hit. The incident caused some excitement +in the streets.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">ARRIVAL OF WOUNDED</div> + +<p>Last night we heard that more wounded were +coming in from the fighting-line near Ghent. We +got sixty more beds ready, and sat up late, boiling +water, sterilising instruments, preparing operating-tables +and beds, etc., etc. As it got later all the +lights in the huge ward were put out, and we went +about with little torches amongst the sleeping +men, putting things in order and moving on tip-toe +in the dark. Later we heard that the wounded +might not get in till Monday.</p> + +<p>The work of this place goes on unceasingly. +We all get on well, but I have not got the +communal spirit, and the fact of being a unit of +women is not the side of it that I find most +interesting. The communal food is my despair. +I can <i>not</i> eat it. All the same this is a fine +experience, and I hope we'll come well out of it. +There is boundless opportunity, and we are in luck +to have a chance of doing our darndest.</p> + +<p><i>28 September.</i>—Last night I and two orderlies +slept over at the hospital as more wounded were +expected. At 11 p.m. word came that "les +blessés" were at the gate. Men were on duty +with stretchers, and we went out to the tram-way +cars in which the wounded are brought from the +station, twelve patients in each. The transit is +as little painful as possible, and the stretchers +are placed in iron brackets, and are simply +unhooked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> when the men arrive. Each stretcher +was brought in and laid on a bed in the +ward, and the nurses and doctors undressed the +men. We orderlies took their names, their +"matricule" or regimental number, and the +number of their bed. Then we gathered up their +clothes and put corresponding numbers on labels +attached to them—first turning out the pockets, +which are filled with all manner of things, from tins +of sardines to loaded revolvers. They are all very +pockety, but have to be turned out before the +clothes are sent to be baked.</p> + +<p>We arranged everything, and then got Oxo for +the men, many of whom had had nothing to eat for +two days. They are a nice-looking lot of men and +boys, with rather handsome faces and clear eyes. +Their absolute exhaustion is the most pathetic thing +about them. They fall asleep even when their +wounds are being dressed. When all was made +straight and comfortable for them, the nurses turned +the lights low again, and stepped softly about the +ward with their little torches.</p> + +<p>A hundred beds all filled with men in pain give +one plenty to think about, and it is during sleep +that their attitudes of suffering strike one most. +Some of them bury their heads in their pillows as +shot partridges seek to bury theirs amongst autumn +leaves. Others lie very stiff and straight, and all +look very thin and haggard. I was struck by the +contrast between the pillared concert-hall where +they lie, with its platform of white paint and +decorations, and the tragedy of suffering which now +fills it.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> +At 2 a.m. more soldiers were brought in from +the battlefield, all caked with dirt, and we began to +work again. These last blinked oddly at the +concert-hall and nurses and doctors, but I think +they do not question anything much. They only +want to go to sleep.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">A VISIT FROM SOME DESERTERS</div> + +<p>I suppose that women would always be tender-hearted +towards deserters. Three of them arrived +at the hospital to-day with some absurd story about +having been told to report themselves. We got +them supper and a hot bath and put them to bed. +One can't regret it. I never saw men sleep as +they did. All through the noise of the wounded +being brought in, all through the turned-up +lights and bustle they never even stirred, but a +sergeant discovered them, and at 3 a.m. they were +marched away again. We got them breakfast and +hot tea, and at least they had had a few hours +between clean sheets. These men seem to carry +so much, and the roads are heavy.</p> + +<p>At 5 o'clock I went to bed and slept till 8. +Mrs. Stobart never rests. I think she must be +made of some substance that the rest of us have +not discovered. At 5 a.m. I discovered her curled +up on a bench in her office, the doors wide open +and the dawn breaking.</p> + +<p><i>2 October.</i>—Here is a short account of one +whole day. Firing went on all night, sometimes it +came so near that the vibration of it was rather +startling. In the early morning we heard that the +forts had been heavily fired on. One of them +remained silent for a long time, and then the +garrison lighted cart-loads of straw in order to +deceive<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> the Germans, who fell into the trap, +thinking the fort was disabled and on fire, and +rushed in to take it. They were met with a +furious cannonade. But one of the other forts has +fallen.</p> + +<p>At 7 a.m. the men's bread had not arrived for +their 6 o'clock breakfast, so I went into the town +to get it. The difficulty was to convey home +twenty-eight large loaves, so I went to the barracks +and begged a motor-car from the Belgian officer +and came back triumphant. The military cars +simply rip through the streets, blowing their horns +all the time. Antwerp was thronged with these +cars, and each one contained soldiers. Sometimes +one saw wounded in them lying on sacks stuffed +with straw.</p> + +<p>I came down to breakfast half-an-hour late +(8 o'clock) and we had our usual fare—porridge, +bread and margarine, and tea with tinned milk—amazingly +nasty, but quite wholesome and filling +at the price. We have reduced our housekeeping +to ninepence per head per day. After breakfast I +cleaned the two houses, as I do every morning, +made nine beds, swept floors and dusted stairs, etc. +When my rooms were done and jugs filled, our +nice little cook gave me a cup of soup in the +kitchen, as she generally does, and I went over to +the hospital to help prepare the men's dinner, my +task to-day being to open bottles and pour out +beer for a hundred and twenty men; then, when +the meat was served, to procure from the kitchen +and serve out gravy. Our own dinner is at 12.30.</p> + +<p>Afterwards I went across to the hospital again +and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> arranged a few things with Mrs. Stobart. I +began to correct the men's diagnosis sheets, but +was called off to help with wounded arriving, and +to label and sort their clothes. Just then the +British Minister, Sir Francis Villiers, and the +Surgeon-General, Sir Cecil Herslet, came in to see +the hospital, and we proceeded to show them round, +when the sound of firing began quite close to us +and we rushed out into the garden.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">A TAUBE OVERHEAD</div> + +<p>From out the blue, clear autumn sky came a +great grey dove flying serenely overhead. This +was a German aeroplane of the class called the +Taube (dove). These aeroplanes are quite beautiful +in design, and fly with amazing rapidity. This one +wafted over our hospital with all the grace of a +living creature "calm in the consciousness of +wings," and then, of course, we let fly at it. From +all round us shells were sent up into the vast blue +of the sky, and still the grey dove went on in its +gentle-looking flight. Whoever was in it must +have been a brave man! All round him shells +were flying—one touch and he must have dropped. +The smoke from the burst shells looked like little +white clouds in the sky as the dove sailed away +into the blue again and was seen no more.</p> + +<p>We returned to our work in hospital. The +men's supper is at six o'clock, and we began cutting +up their bread-and-butter and cheese and filling +their bowls of beer. When that was over and +visitors were going, an order came for thirty patients +to proceed to Ostend and make room for worse +cases. We were sorry to say good-bye to them, +especially to a nice fellow whom we call Alfred +because<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> he can speak English, and to Sunny Jim, +who positively refused to leave.</p> + +<p>Poor boys! With each batch of the wounded, +disabled creatures who are carried in, one feels inclined +to repeat in wonder, "Can one man be +responsible for all this? Is it for one man's lunatic +vanity that men are putting lumps of lead into +each other's hearts and lungs, and boys are lying +with their heads blown off, or with their insides +beside them on the ground?" Yet there is a +splendid freedom about being in the midst of death—a +certain glory in it, which one can't explain.</p> + +<p>A piece of shell fell through the roof of the +hospital to-day—evidently a part of one that had +been fired at the Taube. It fell close beside the +bed of one of our wounded, and he went as white +as a ghost. It must be pretty bad to be powerless +and have shells falling around. The doctors tell +me that nothing moves them so much as the terror +of the men. Their nerves are simply shattered, +and everything frightens them. Rather late a man +was brought in from the forts, terribly wounded. +He was the only survivor of twelve comrades who +stood together, and a shell fell amongst them, +killing all but this man.</p> + +<p>At seven o'clock we moved all the furniture from +Mrs. Stobart's office to the dispensary, where she +will have more room, and the day's work was then +over and night work began for some. The Germans +have destroyed the reservoir and the water-supply +has been cut off, so we have to go and fetch all the +water in buckets from a well. After supper we go +with our pails and carry it home. The shortage +for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> washing, cleaning, etc., is rather inconvenient, +and adds to the danger in a large hospital, and to +the risk of typhoid.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">ORDERS TO EVACUATE THE HOSPITAL</div> + +<p><i>4 October.</i>—Yesterday our work was hardly over +when Mrs. Stobart sent a summons to all of us +"heads" to come to her bureau. She had grave +news for us. The British Consul had just been to +say that all the English must leave Antwerp; two +forts had fallen, and the Germans were hourly +expected to begin shelling the town. We were +told that all the wounded who could travel were to +go to Ostend, and the worst cases were to be transferred +to the Military Hospital.</p> + +<p>I do not think it would be easy to describe the +confusion that followed. All the men's clothes +had to be found, and they had to be got into them, +and woe betide if a little cap or old candle was +missing! All wanted serving at once; all wanted +food before starting. In the midst of the general +mêlée I shall always remember one girl, silently, +quickly, and ceaselessly slicing bread with a loaf +pressed to her waist, and handing it across the +counter to the men.</p> + +<p>With one or two exceptions the staff all wanted +to remain in Antwerp. I myself decided to abandon +the unit and stay on here as an individual or go to +Ostend with the men. Mrs. Stobart, being responsible, +had to take the unit home. It was a case +of leaving immediately; we packed what stores we +could, but the beds and X-ray apparatus and all +our material equipment would have to be left to +the Germans. I think all felt as though they were +running away, but it was a military order, and the +Consul<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span>, the British Minister, and the King and +Queen were leaving. We went to eat lunch +together, and as we were doing so Mrs. Stobart +brought the news that the Consul had come to say +that reinforcements had come up, the situation +changed for the better, and for the present we +might remain. Anyone who wanted to leave +might do so, but only four did.</p> + +<p>We have since heard what happened. The +British Minister cabled home to say that Antwerp +was the key to the whole situation and must not +fall, as once in here the Germans would be strongly +entrenched, supplied with provisions, ammunition, +and everything they want. A Cabinet Council +was held at 3 a.m. in London, and reinforcements +were ordered up. Winston Churchill is here with +Marines. They say Colonel Kitchener is at the +forts.</p> + +<p>The firing sounds very near. Dr. Hector Munro +and Miss St. Clair and Lady Dorothy Fielding +came over to-day from Ghent, where all is quiet. +They wanted me to return with them to take a +rest, which was absurd, of course.</p> + +<p>Some fearful cases were brought in to us to-day. +My God, the horror of it! One has heard of men +whom their mothers would not recognise. Some +of the wounded to-day were amongst these. All +the morning we did what we could for them. One +man was riddled with bullets, and died very soon.</p> + +<p>It is awful work. The great bell rings, and we +say, "More wounded," and the men get stretchers. +We go down the long, cold covered way to the +gate and number the men for their different beds. +The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> stretchers are stiff with blood, and the clothes +have to be cut off the men. They cry out terribly, +and their <i>horror</i> is so painful to witness. They are +so young, and they have seen right into hell. The +first dressings are removed by the doctors—sometimes +there is only a lump of cotton-wool to fill up +a hole—and the men lie there with their tragic +eyes fixed upon one. All day a nurse has sat by a +man who has been shot through the lungs. Each +breath is painful; it does not bear writing about. +The pity of it all just breaks one's heart. But I +suppose we do not see nearly the worst of the +wounded.</p> + +<p>The lights are all off at eight o'clock now, and we +do our work in the dark, while the orderlies hold +little torches to enable the doctors to dress the +wounds. There are not <i>half</i> enough nurses or +doctors out here. In one hospital there are 400 +beds and only two trained nurses.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">ARRIVAL OF BRITISH TROOPS</div> + +<p>Some of our own troops came through the town +in London omnibuses to-day. It was quite a +Moment, and we felt that all was well. We went +to the gate and shook hands with them as they +passed, and they made jokes and did us all good. +We cheered and waved handkerchiefs.</p> + +<p><i>5-6 October.</i>—I think the last two days have +been the most ghastly I ever remember. Every +day seems to bring news of defeat. It is awful, +and the Germans are quite close now. As I write +the house shakes with the firing. Our troops are +falling back, and the forts have fallen. Last night +we took provisions and water to the cellars, and +made plans to get the wounded taken there.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> +They say the town will be shelled to-morrow. +All these last two days bleeding men have been +brought in. To-day three of them died, and I +suppose none of them was more than 23. We +have to keep up all the time and show a good +face, and meals are quite cheery. To-day, Tuesday, +was our last chance of leaving, and only two went.</p> + +<p>The guns boom by day as well as by night, and +as each one is heard one thinks of more bleeding, +shattered men. It is calm, nice autumn weather; +the trees are yellow in the garden and the sky is +blue, yet all the time one listens to the cries of men +in pain. To-night I meant to go out for a little, +but a nurse stopped me and asked me to sit by a +dying man. Poor fellow, he was twenty-one, and +looked like some brigand chief, and he smiled as +he was dying. The horror of these two days will +last always, and there are many more such days to +come. Everyone is behaving well, and that is all +I care about.</p> + +<p><i>7 October.</i>—It is a glorious morning: they will +see well to kill each other to-day.</p> + +<p>The guns go all day and all night. They are so +close that the earth shakes with them. Last night +in the infernal darkness we were turning wounded +men away from the door. There was no room for +them even on the floor. The Belgians scream +terribly. Our own men suffer quite quietly. One +of them died to-day.</p> + +<p>Day and night a stream of vehicles passes the +gate. It never ceases. Nearly all are motors, +driven at a furious pace, and they sound horns all +the time. These are met by a stream of carts and +old-fashioned<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> vehicles bringing in country people, +who are flying to the coast. In Antwerp to-day +it was "sauve qui peut"! Nearly all the men are +going—Mr. ——, who has helped us, and Mr. ——, +they are going to bicycle into Holland. A +surgeon (Belgian) has fled from his hospital, leaving +seven hundred beds, and there seem to be a great +many deserters from the trenches.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">THE SITUATION GETS WORSE</div> + +<p>The news is still the same—"very bad"; sometimes +I walk to the gate and ask returning soldiers +how the battle goes, but the answer never varies. +At lunch-time to-day firing ceased, and I heard it +was because the German guns were coming up. +We got orders to send away all the wounded who +could possibly go, and we prepared beds in the +cellars for those who cannot be moved. The +military authorities beg us to remain as so many +hospitals have been evacuated.</p> + +<p>The wounded continue to come in. One sees +one car in the endless stream moving slowly (most +of them <i>fly</i> with their officers sitting upright, or +with aeroplanes on long carriages), and one knows +by the pace that more wounded are coming. +Inside one sees the horrible six shelves behind the +canvas curtain, and here and there a bound-up +limb or head. One of our men had his leg taken +off to-day, and is doing well. Nothing goes on +much behind the scenes. The yells of the men are +plainly heard, and to-day, as I sat beside the lung +man who was taking so long to die, someone +brought a sack to me, and said, "This is for the +leg." All the orderlies are on duty in the hospital +now. We can spare no one for rougher work. +We<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> can all bandage and wash patients. There +are wounded everywhere, even on straw beds on +the platform of the hall.</p> + +<p>Darkness seems to fall early, and it is the +darkness that is so baffling. At 5 p.m. we have +to feed everyone while there is a little light, then +the groping about begins, and everyone falls over +things. There is a clatter of basins on the floor or +an over-turned chair. Any sudden noise is rather +trying at present because of the booming of the +guns. At 7 last night they were much louder than +before, with a sort of strange double sound, and we +were told that these were our "Long Toms," so +we hope that our Naval Brigade has come up.</p> + +<p>We know very little of what is going on except +when we run out and ask some returning English +soldiers for news. Yesterday it was always the +same reply "Very bad." One of the Marines told +me that Winston Churchill was "up and down the +road amongst the shells," and I was also told that +he had given orders that Antwerp was not to be +taken till the last man in it was dead.</p> + +<p>The Marines are getting horribly knocked about. +Yesterday Mrs. O'Gormon went out in her own +motor-car and picked wounded out of the trenches. +She said that no one knew why they were in the +trenches or where they were to fire—they just lay +there and were shot and then left.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">HOW WE KEPT UP OUR COURAGE</div> + +<p>I think I have seen too much pain lately. At +Walworth one saw women every day in utter pain, +and now one lives in an atmosphere of bandages +and blood. I asked some of the orderlies to-day +what it was that supported them most at a crisis +of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> this sort. The answers varied, and were +interesting. I myself am surprised to find that +religion is not my best support. When I go +into the little chapel to pray it is all too tender, +the divine Mother and the Child and the holy +atmosphere. I begin to feel rather sorry for +myself, I don't know why; then I go and move +beds and feel better; but I have found that just +to behave like a well-bred woman is what keeps +me up best. I had thought that the Flag or +Religion would have been stronger incentives +to me.</p> + +<p>Our own soldiers seem to find self-respect their +best asset. It is amazing to see the difference +between them and the Belgians, who are terribly +poor hands at bearing pain, and beg for morphia +all the time. An officer to-day had to have a loose +tooth out. He insisted on having cocaine, and +then begged the doctor to be careful!</p> + +<p>The firing now is furious—sometimes there are +five or six explosions almost simultaneously. I +suppose we shall read in the <i>Times</i> that "all is +quiet," and in <i>Le Matin</i> that "pour le reste tout +est calme."</p> + +<p>The staff are doing well. They are generally too +busy to be frightened, but one has to speak once +or twice to them before they hear.</p> + +<p>On Wednesday night, the 7th October, we heard +that one more ship was going to England, and a +last chance was given to us all to leave. Only two +did so; the rest stayed on. Mrs. Stobart went out +to see what was to be done. The —— Consul +said that we were under his protection, and that if +the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> Germans entered the town he would see that +we were treated properly. We had a deliberately +cheerful supper, and afterwards a man called Smits +came in and told us that the Germans had been +driven back fifteen kilometres. I myself did not +believe this, but we went to bed, and even took off +our clothes.</p> + +<p>At midnight the first shell came over us with a +shriek, and I went down and woke the orderlies +and nurses and doctors. We dressed and went +over to help move the wounded at the hospital. +The shells began to scream overhead; it was a +bright moonlight night, and we walked without +haste—a small body of women—across the road to +the hospital. Here we found the wounded all +yelling like mad things, thinking they were going +to be left behind. The lung man has died.</p> + +<p>Nearly all the moving to the cellars had already +been done—only three stretchers remained to be +moved. One wounded English sergeant helped us. +Otherwise everything was done by women. We +laid the men on mattresses which we fetched from +the hospital overhead, and then Mrs. Stobart's mild, +quiet voice said, "Everything is to go on as usual. +The night nurses and orderlies will take their places. +Breakfast will be at the usual hour." She and the +other ladies whose night it was to sleep at the +convent then returned to sleep in the basement +with a Sister.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">THE BOMBARDMENT</div> + +<p>We came in for some most severe shelling at +first, either because we flew the Red Cross flag or +because we were in the line of fire with a powder +magazine which the Germans wished to destroy. +We<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> sat in the cellars with one night-light burning +in each, and with seventy wounded men to take +care of. Two of them were dying. There was +only one line of bricks between us and the shells. +One shell fell into the garden, making a hole six +feet deep; the next crashed through a house on the +opposite side of the road and set it on fire. The +danger was two-fold, for we knew our hospital, +which was a cardboard sort of thing, would ignite +like matchwood, and if it fell we should not be able +to get out of the cellars. Some people on our staff +were much against our making use of a cellar at +all for this reason. I myself felt it was the safest +place, and as long as we stayed with the wounded +they minded nothing. We sat there all night.</p> + +<p>The English sergeant said that at daybreak the +firing would probably cease, as the German guns +stopped when daylight came in order to conceal the +guns. We just waited for daybreak. When it +came the firing grew worse. The sergeant said, +"It is always worse just before they stop," but the +firing did not stop. Two hundred guns were +turned on Antwerp, and the shells came over at the +rate of four a minute. They have a horrid screaming +sound as they come. We heard each one +coming and wondered if it would hit us, and then +we heard the crashing somewhere else and knew +another shell was coming.</p> + +<p>The worst cases among the wounded lay on the +floor, and these wanted constant attention. The +others were in their great-coats, and stood about +the cellar leaning on crutches and sticks. We +wrapped blankets round the rheumatism cases +and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> sat through the long night. Sometimes +when we heard a crash near by we asked "Is that +the convent?" but nothing else was said. All +spoke cheerfully, and there was some laughter in +the further cellar. One little red-haired nurse +enjoyed the whole thing. I saw her carry three +wounded men in succession on her back down to +the cellar. I found myself wishing that for +me a shot would come and finish the horrible +night. Still we all chatted and smiled and made +little jokes. Once during that long night in the +cellar I heard one wounded man say to another as +he rolled himself round on his mattress, "Que les +anglais sont comme il faut."</p> + +<p>At six o'clock the convent party came over and +began to prepare breakfast. The least wounded of +the men began to steal away, and we were left with +between thirty and forty of them. The difficulty +was to know how to get away and how to remove +the wounded, two of whom were nearly dead. +Miss Benjamin went and stood at the gate, while +the shells still flew, and picked up an ambulance. +In this we got away six men, including the two dying +ones. Mrs. Stobart was walking about for three +hours trying to find anything on wheels to remove +us and the wounded. At last we got a motor +ambulance, and packed in twenty men—that was +all it would hold. We told them to go as far as +the bridge and send it back for us. It never came. +Nothing seemed to come.</p> + +<p>The —— Vice-Consul had told us we were under +his protection, and he would, as a neutral, march +out to meet the Germans and give us protection. +But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> when we enquired we heard he had bolted +without telling us. The next to give us protection +was the —— Field Hospital, who said they had a +ship in the river and would not move without us. +But they also left and said nothing.</p> + +<p>We got dinner for the men, and then the strain +began to be much worse. We had seven wounded +and ourselves and not a thing in which to get out +of Antwerp. I told Mrs. Stobart we must leave +the wounded at the convent in charge of the +Sisters, and this we did, telling them where to take +them in the morning. The gay young nurses +fetched them across on stretchers.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">FLIGHT</div> + +<p>About 5 o'clock the shelling became more violent, +and three shells came with only an instant between +each. Presently we heard Mrs. Stobart say, +"Come at once," and we went out and found three +English buses with English drivers at the door. +They were carrying ammunition, and were the last +vehicles to leave Antwerp. We got into them and +lay on the top of the ammunition, and the girls +began to light cigarettes! The noise of the buses +prevented our hearing for a time the infernal sound +of shells and our cannons' answering roar.</p> + +<p>As we drove to the bridge many houses and +sometimes a whole street was burning. No one +seemed to care. No one was there to try and save +anything. We drove through the empty streets +and saw the burning houses, and great holes where +shells had fallen, and then we got to the bridge and +out of the line of fire.</p> + +<p>We set out to walk towards Holland, but a +Belgian officer got us some Red Cross ambulances, +and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> into these we got, and were taken to a convent +at St. Gilles, where we slept on the floor till 3 a.m. +At 3 a message was brought, "Get up at once—things +are worse." Everyone seemed to be leaving, +and we got into the Red Cross ambulances and +went to the station.</p> + +<p><i>9 October.</i>—We have been all day in the train +in very hard third-class carriages with the R.M.L.I. +The journey of fifty miles took from 5 o'clock in +the morning, when we got away, till 12 o'clock at +night, when we reached Ostend. The train hardly +crawled. It was the longest I have ever seen. +All Ostend was in darkness when we arrived—a +German airship having been seen overhead. We +always seem to be tumbling about in the dark. +We went from one hotel to another trying to get +accommodation, and at last (at the St. James's) +they allowed us to lie on the floor of the restaurant. +The only food they had for us was ten eggs for +twenty-five hungry people and some brown bread, +but they had champagne at the house, and I +ordered it for everybody, and we made little +speeches and tried to end on a good note.</p> + +<p><i>10 October.</i>—Mrs. Stobart took the unit back to +England to-day. The wounded were found in a +little house which the Red Cross had made over to +them, and Dr. Ramsey, Sister Bailey, and the two +nurses had much to say about their perilous journey. +One man had died on the road, but the others all +looked well. Their joy at seeing us was pathetic, +and there was a great deal of handshaking over our +meeting.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">THE UNIT RETURNS TO ENGLAND</div> + +<p>Miss Donnisthorpe and I got decent rooms at the +Littoral<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> Hotel, and brought our luggage there, and +had baths, which we much needed. Dr. Hanson +had got out of the train at Bruges to bandage a +wounded man, and she was left behind, and is still +lost. I suppose she has gone home. She is the +doctor I like best, and she is one of the few whose +nerves are not shattered. It was a sorry little +party which Mrs. Stobart took back to England.</p> + + + +<hr class="full" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I_II" id="CHAPTER_I_II"></a>CHAPTER II +<span class="totoc"><a href="#CONTENTS">ToC</a></span></h2> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p> +<h3>WITH DR. HECTOR MUNRO'S FLYING AMBULANCE +CORPS</h3> + + +<p><i>12 October.</i>—Everyone has gone back to +England except Sister Bailey and me. She is +waiting to hand over the wounded to the proper +department, and I am waiting to see if I can get on +anywhere. It does seem so hard that when men +are most in need of us we should all run home and +leave them.</p> + +<p>The noises and racket in Ostend are deafening, +and there is panic everywhere. The boats go to +England packed every time. I called on the +Villiers yesterday, and heard that she is leaving on +Tuesday. But they say that the British Minister +dare not leave or the whole place would go wild +with fear. Some ships lie close to us on the grey +misty water, and the troops are passing along all +day.</p> + +<p><i>Later.</i>—We heard to-night that the Germans +are coming into Ostend to-morrow, so once more +we fly like dust before a broom. It is horrible +having to clear out for them.</p> + +<p>I am trying to discover what courage really +consists in. It isn't only a lack of imagination. In +some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> people it is transcendent, in others it is only +a sort of stupidity. If proper precautions were +taken the need for courage would be much +reduced—the "tight place" is so often the result +of sheer muddle.</p> + +<p>This evening Dr. Hector Munro came in from +Ghent with his oddly-dressed ladies, and at first +one was inclined to call them masqueraders in +their knickerbockers and puttees and caps, but I +believe they have done excellent work. It is a +queer side of war to see young, pretty English girls +in khaki and thick boots, coming in from the +trenches, where they have been picking up wounded +men within a hundred yards of the enemy's lines, +and carrying them away on stretchers. Wonderful +little Walküres in knickerbockers, I lift my hat to +you!</p> + +<p>Dr. Munro asked me to come on to his convoy, +and I gladly did so: he sent home a lady whose +nerves were gone, and I was put in her place.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">ON THE ROAD TO DUNKIRK</div> + +<p><i>13 October.</i>—We had an early muddly breakfast, +at which everyone spoke in a high voice and urged +others to hurry, and then we collected luggage and +went round to see the General. Afterwards we +all got into our motor ambulances <i>en route</i> for +Dunkirk. The road was filled with flying inhabitants, +and down at the dock wounded and well +struggled to get on to the steamer. People were +begging us for a seat in our ambulance, and well-dressed +women were setting out to walk twenty +miles to Dunkirk. The rain was falling heavily, +and it was a dripping day when we and a lot of +English soldiers found ourselves in the square in +Dunkirk,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> where the few hotels are. We had an +expensive lunch at a greasy restaurant, and then +tried to find rooms.</p> + +<p>I began to make out of whom our party consists. +There is Lady Dorothy Fielding—probably 22, +but capable of taking command of a ship, and +speaking French like a native; Mrs. Decker, an +Australian, plucky and efficient; Miss Chisholm, a +blue-eyed Scottish girl, with a thick coat strapped +around her waist and a haversack slung from her +shoulder; a tall American, whose name I do not +yet know, whose husband is a journalist; three +young surgeons, and Dr. Munro. It is all so +quaint. The girls rule the company, carry maps +and find roads, see about provisions and carry +wounded.</p> + +<p>We could not get rooms at Dunkirk and so came +on to St. Malo les Bains, a small bathing-place +which had been shut up for the winter. The +owner of an hotel there opened up some rooms for +us and got us some ham and eggs, and the evening +ended very cheerily. Our party seems, to me, +amazingly young and unprotected.</p> + +<p><i>St. Malo les Bains. 14 October.</i>—To-day I +took a car into Dunkirk and bought some things, +as I have lost nearly all I possess at Antwerp. +In the afternoon I went to the dock to get some +letters posted, and tramped about there for a long +time. War is such a disorganizer. Nothing +starts. No one is able to move because of wounded +arms and legs; it seems to make the world helpless +and painful. In minor matters one lives nearly +always with damp feet and rather dirty and +hungry.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> Drains are all choked, and one does not +get much sleep. These are trifles, of course.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">WOMEN AT THE FRONT</div> + +<p>To-night, as we sat at dinner, a message was +brought that a woman outside had been run over +and was going to have a baby immediately in a +tram-way shelter, so out we went and got one of +our ambulances, and a young doctor with his +fiancée went off with her. There was a lot of +argument about where the woman lived, until one +young man said, "Well, get in somehow, or the +baby will have arrived." There is a simplicity +about these tragic times, and nothing matters but +to save people.</p> + +<p><i>15 October.</i>—To-day we went down to the +docks to get a passage for Dr. Munro, who is +going home for money. A German Taube flew +overhead and men were firing rifles at it. An +Englishman hit it, and down it came like a shot +bird, so that was the end of a brave man, whoever +he was, and it was a long drop, too, through the +still autumn air. Guns have begun to fire again, +so I suppose we shall have to move on once more. +One does not unpack, and it is dangerous to part +with one's linen to be washed.</p> + +<p>Yesterday I heard a man—a man in a responsible +position—say to a girl, "Tell me, please, how far +we are from the firing-line." It was one of the +most remarkable speeches I ever heard. I go to +these girls for all my news. Lady Dorothy +Fielding is our real commander, and everyone +knows it. One hears on all sides, "Lady Dorothy, +can you get us tyres for the ambulances? Where +is the petrol?" "Do you know if the General +will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> let us through?" "Have you been able to +get us any stores?" "Ought we to have 'laissez-passer's' +or not?" She goes to all the heads of +departments, is the only good speaker of French, +and has the only reliable information about anything. +All the men acknowledge her position, and +they say to me, "It's very odd being run by a +woman; but she is the only person who can do +anything." In the firing-line she is quite cool, and +so are the other women. They seem to be +interested, not dismayed, by shots and shrapnel.</p> + +<p><i>16 October.</i>—To-day I have been reading of the +"splendid retreat" of the Marines from Antwerp +and their "unprecedented reception" at Deal. +Everyone appears to have been in a state of wild +enthusiasm about them, and it seems almost like +Mafeking over again.</p> + +<p>What struck me most about these men was the +way in which they blew their own trumpets in full +retreat and while flying from the enemy. We +travelled all day in the train with them, and had +long conversations with them all. They were all +saying, "We will bring you the Kaiser's head, +miss"; to which I replied, "Well, you had better +turn round and go the other way." Some people +like this "English" spirit. I find the conceit of it +most trying. Belgium is in the hands of the enemy, +and we flee before him singing our own praises +loudly as we do so. The Marines lost their kit, +spent one night in Antwerp, and went back to +England, where they had an amazing reception +amid scenes of unprecedented enthusiasm! The +Government<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> will give them a fresh kit, and the +public will cheer itself hoarse!</p> + +<div class="sidenote">MEN'S ATTITUDE TOWARDS WOMEN</div> + +<p>I could not help thinking, when I read the +papers to-day, of our tired little body of nurses and +doctors and orderlies going back quietly and unproclaimed +to England to rest at Folkestone for +three days and then to come out here again. They +had been for eighteen hours under heavy shell fire +without so much as a rifle to protect them, and +with the immediate chance of a burning building +falling about them. The nurses sat in the cellars +tending wounded men, whom they refused to +leave, and then hopped on to the outside of an +ammunition bus "to see the fun," and came home +to buy their little caps and aprons out of their own +slender purses and start work again.</p> + +<p>I shall believe in Britishers to the day of my +death, and I hope I shall die before I cease to +believe in them, but I do get some disillusions. +At Antwerp not a man remained with us, and the +worst of it was they made elaborate excuses for +leaving. Even our sergeant, who helped during +the night, took a comrade off in the morning and +disappeared. Both were wounded, but not badly, +and two young English Tommies, very slightly +wounded, left us as soon as the firing began. We +saw them afterwards at the bridge, and they looked +pretty mean.</p> + +<p>To-night at dinner some officers came in when +the food was pretty well finished, and only some +drumsticks of chicken and bits of ham were left. +I am always slow at beginning to eat, and I had a +large wing of chicken still on my plate. I offered +this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> to an officer, who accepted it and ate it, +although he asked me to have a little bit of it. +I do hope I shall meet some cases of chivalry +soon.</p> + +<p>Firing ceased about 5 o'clock this afternoon, but +we are short of news. The English papers rather +annoy one with their continual victories, of which +we see nothing. Everyone talks of the German +big guns as if they were some happy chance. But +the Germans were drilling and preparing while we +were making speeches at Hyde Park Corner. +Everything had been thought out by them. +People talk of the difficulty they must have had in +preparing concrete floors for their guns. Not a bit +of it. There were innocent dwelling-houses, built +long ago, with floors in just the right position and +of just the right stuff, and when they were wanted +the top stories were blown off and the concrete +gun-floors were ready. There were local exhibitions, +too, to which firms sent exhibition guns, +which they "forgot" to remove! While we +were going on strike they were making an army, +and as we have sown so must we reap.</p> + +<p>One almost wonders whether it might not be +possible to eliminate the personal element in war, +so constant is the talk about victorious guns. If +guns decide everything, then let them be trained +on other guns. Let the gun that drives farthest +and goes surest win. If every siege is decided by +the German 16-inch howitzers, then let us put up +brick and mortar or steel against them, but not +men. The day for the bleeding human body seems +to be over now that men are mown down by shells +fired<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> eight miles away. War used to be splendid +because it made men strong and brave, but now a +little German in spectacles can stand behind a +Krupp gun and wipe out a regiment.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">PROTECTION OF LIFE OR PROPERTY</div> + +<p>I suppose women will always try to protect life +because they know what it costs to produce it, and +men will always try to protect property because +that is what they themselves produce. At Antwerp +our wounded men were begging us to go up to the +hospital to fetch their purses from under their +pillows! At present women are only repairers, +darning socks, cleaning, washing up after men, +bringing up reinforcements in the way of fresh life, +and patching up wounded men, but some day they +must and will have to say, "The life I produce +has as much right to protection as the property you +produce, and I claim my right to protect it."</p> + +<p>There seems to me a lack of connection between +one man's desire to extend the area he occupies +and young men in their teens lying with their +lungs shot through or backs blown off.</p> + +<p><i>19 October.</i>—Our time is now spent in waiting +and preparing for work which will probably come +soon, as there has been fighting near us again. +One hears the boom of guns a long way off, and +always there is the sound of death in it. One +has been too near it not to know now what it +means.</p> + +<p>Yesterday I went to church in an empty little +building, but a few of our hospital men turned up +and made a small congregation. In the afternoon +one or two people came to tea in my bedroom as +we could not make our usual expedition to de +Poorter's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> bunshop. The pastry habit is growing +on us all.</p> + +<p>We went to the arsenal to-day to see about +some repairs to our ambulances. I saw a German +omnibus which had been captured, and the eagles +on it had been painted out with stripes of red paint +and the French colours put in their place. The +omnibus was one mass of bullet-holes. I have seen +waggons at Paardeberg, but I never saw anything +so knocked about as that grey motor-bus. The +engines and sides were shattered and the chauffeur, +of course, had been killed. We went on by motor +to the "Champs des Aviateurs." We saw one +naval aeroplane man, who told us that he had been +hit in his machine when it was 4,000 feet up in the +air. His jacket was torn by a bullet and his +machine dropped, but he was uninjured, and got +away on a bicycle.</p> + +<p>The more I see of war the more I am amazed at +the courage and nerve which are shown. Death or +the chance of death is everywhere, and we meet it +not as fatalists do or those who believe they can +earn eternal glory with a sacrifice, but lightly and +with a song. An English girl at Antwerp was +horribly ashamed of some Belgians who skulked +behind a wall when the firing was hottest. She +herself remained in the open.</p> + +<p>It has been a great comfort to me that I have +had a room to myself so far on this campaign. I +find the communal spirit is not in me. The noisy +meals, the heavy bowls of soup, the piles of labelled +dinner-napkins, give me an unexpected feeling of +oppressive seclusion and solitude, and only when I +get<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> away by myself do I feel that my soul is +restored.</p> + +<p>Mr. Gleeson, an American, joined his wife here +a couple of days ago: it was odd to have a book +talk again.</p> + +<p><i>21 October.</i>—A still grey day with a level sea +and a few fishing-boats going out with the tide. +On the long grey shore shrimpers are wading with +their nets. The only colour in the soft grey dawn +is the little wink of white that the breaking waves +make on the sand. This small empty seaside place, +with its row of bathing-machines drawn up on the +beach, has a look about it as of a theatre seen by +daylight. All the seats are empty and the players +have gone away, and the theatre begins to whisper +as empty buildings do. I think I know quite well +some of the people who come to St. Malo les Bains, +just by listening to what the empty little place is +saying.</p> + +<p>Firing has begun again. We hear that our +ships are shelling Ostend from the sea. The news +that reaches us is meagre, but I prefer that to the +false reports that are circulated at home.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">WE GO TO FURNES</div> + +<p>This afternoon we came out in motors and +ambulances to establish ourselves at Furnes in an +empty Ecclesiastical College. Nothing was ready, +and everything was in confusion. The wounded +from the fighting near by had not begun to come +in, but the infernal sound of the guns was quite +close to us, and gave one the sensation of a blow on +the ear. Night was falling as we came back to +Dunkirk to sleep (for no beds were ready at Furnes), +and we passed many motor vehicles of every +description<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> going out to Furnes. Some of them +were filled with bread, and one saw stacks of +loaves filling to the roof some once beautifully +appointed motor. Now all was dust and dirt.</p> + +<p>All my previous ideas of men marching to war +have had a touch of heroism, crudely expressed by +quick-step and smart uniforms. To-day I see tired +dusty men, very hungry looking and unshaved, +slogging along, silent and tired, and ready to lie +down whenever chance offers. They keep as near +their convoy as they can, and are keen to stop and +cook something. God! what is heroism? It +baffles me.</p> + +<p><i>22 October. Furnes.</i>—The bulk of our party +did not return from Furnes yesterday, so we +gathered that the wounded must be coming in, and +we left Dunkirk early and came here. As I +packed my things and rolled my rugs at 5 a.m. I +thought of Mary, and "Charles to fetch down the +luggage," and the fuss at home over my delicate +health!</p> + +<p>A French officer called Gilbert took us out to +Furnes in his Brooklands racing-car, so that was a +bit of an experience too, for we sat curled up on +some luggage, and were told to hang on by something. +The roads were empty and level, the little +seats of the car were merely an appendage to its +long big engines. When we got our breath back +we asked Gilbert what his speed had been, and he +told us 75 miles an hour.</p> + +<p>There was a crowd of motors in the yard of the +Ecclesiastical College at Furnes, engines throbbing +and clutches being jerked, and we were told that +all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> last night the fighting had gone on and the +wounded had been coming in. There are three +wards already fairly full, nothing quite ready, and +the inevitable and reiterated "where" heard on +every side.</p> + +<p>"Where are the stretchers?" "Where are my +forceps?" "Where are we to dine?" "Where +are the dead to be put?" "Where are the +Germans?"</p> + +<p>No one stops to answer. People ask everybody +ten times over to do the same thing, and use anything +that is lying about.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">THE FIGHTING AT DIXMUDE</div> + +<p>There are two war correspondents here—Mr. +Gibbs and Mr. Ashmead Bartlett—and they told +me about the fighting at Dixmude last night. I +must try to get Mr. Gibbs's newspaper account of +it, but nothing will ever be so simple and so +dramatic as his own description. He and Mr. +Bartlett, Mr. Gleeson and Dr. Munro, with young +Mr. Brockville, the War Minister's son, went to +the town, which was being heavily shelled. Dixmude +was full of wounded, and the church and the +houses were falling. The roar of things was awful, +and the bursting shells overhead sent shrapnel +pattering on the buildings, the pavements, and the +cars.</p> + +<p>Young Brockville went into a house, where he +heard wounded were lying, and found a pile of +dead Frenchmen stacked against a wall. A bursting +shell scattered them. He went on to a cellar +and found some living men, got the stretchers, +loaded the cars and bade them drive on. In the +darkness, and with the deafening noises, no one +heard<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> his orders aright, the two motor ambulances +moved on and left him behind amongst the burning +houses and flying shells. It was only after going a +few miles that the rest of the party found that he +was not with them.</p> + +<p>Mr. Gleeson and Mr. Bartlett went back for him. +Nothing need be said except that. They went +back to hell for him, and the other two waited in +the road with the wounded men. After an hour +of waiting these two also went back.</p> + +<p>I asked Mr. Gibbs if he shared the contempt that +some people expressed for bullets. He and Mr. +Gleeson both said, "Anyone who talks of contempt +for bullets is talking nonsense. Bullets mean +death at every corner of the street, and death overhead +and flying limbs and unspeakable sights." All +these men went back. All of them behaved quietly +and like gentlemen, but one man asked a friend of +his over and over again if he was a Belgian refugee, +and another said that a town steeple falling looked +so strange that they could only stand about and +light cigarettes. In the end they gave up Mr. +Brockville for lost and came home with the ambulances. +But he turned up in the middle of the +night, to everyone's huge delight.</p> + +<p><i>23 October.</i>—A crisp autumn morning, a courtyard +filled with motors and brancardiers and men +in uniform, and women in knickerbockers and +puttees, all lighting cigarettes and talking about +repairs and gears and a box of bandages. The +mornings always start happily enough. The guns +are nearer to-day or more distant, the battle sways +backwards and forwards, and there is no such thing +as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> a real "base" for a hospital. We must just +stay as long as we can and fly when we must.</p> + +<p>About 10 a.m. the ambulances that have been +out all night begin to come in, the wounded on +their pitiful shelves.</p> + +<p>"Take care. There are two awful cases. Step +this way. The man on the top shelf is dead. Lift +them down. Steady. Lift the others out first. +Now carry them across the yard to the overcrowded +ward, and lay them on the floor if there are no +beds, but lay them down and go for others. Take +the worst to the theatre: get the shattered limbs +amputated and then bring them back, for there is +a man just dead whose place can be filled; and +these two must be shipped off to Calais; and this +one can sit up."</p> + +<div class="sidenote">A WOUNDED GERMAN</div> + +<p>I found one young German with both hands +smashed. He was not ill enough to have a bed, of +course, but sat with his head fallen forward trying +to sleep on a chair. I fed him with porridge and +milk out of a little bowl, and when he had finished +half of it he said, "I won't have any more. I am +afraid there will be none for the others." I got a +few cushions for him and laid him in a corner of +the room. Nothing disturbs the deep sleep of these +men. They seem not so much exhausted as dead +with fatigue.</p> + +<p>A French boy of sixteen is a favourite of mine. +He is such a beautiful child, and there is no hope +for him; shot through the abdomen; he can retain +nothing, and is sick all day, and every day he is +weaker.</p> + +<p>I do not find that the men want to send letters +or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> write messages. Their pain is too awful even for +that, and I believe they can think of nothing else.</p> + +<p>All day the stretchers are brought in and the +work goes on. It is about 5 o'clock that the weird +tired hour begins when the dim lamps are lighted, +and people fall over things, and nearly everything +is mislaid, and the wounded cry out, and one steps +over forms on the floor. From then till one goes +to bed it is difficult to be just what one ought to +be, the tragedy of it is too pitiful. There is a boy +with his eyes shot out, and there is a row of men +all with head wounds from the cruel shrapnel overhead. +Blood-stained mattresses and pillows are +carried out into the courtyard. Two ladies help +to move the corpses. There is always a pile of +bandages and rags being burnt, and a youth stirs +the horrible pile with a stick. A queer smell permeates +everything, and the guns never cease. The +wounded are coming in at the rate of a hundred +a day.</p> + +<p>The Queen of the Belgians called to see the +hospital to-day. Poor little Queen, coming to see +the remnants of an army and the remnants of a +kingdom! She was kind to each wounded man, +and we were glad of her visit, if for no other reason +than that some sort of cleaning and tidying was +done in her honour. To-night Mr. Nevinson +arrived, and we went round the wards together after +supper. The beds were all full—so was the floor. +I was glad that so many of the wounded were +dying.</p> + +<p>The doctors said, "These men are not wounded, +they are mashed."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> +I am rather surprised to find how little the quite +young girls seem to mind the sight of wounds and +suffering. They are bright and witty about +amputations, and do not shudder at anything. I +am feeling rather out-of-date amongst them.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center"><i>Letter to Miss Macnaughtan's Sisters.</i></p> + +<p class="lh_ind0"><span class="smcap">Dr. Hector Munro's Ambulance,</span></p> +<p class="lh_ind4"><span class="smcap">Furnes, Belgium,</span></p> +<p class="lh_ind2"><i>23 October.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear People,</span></p> + +<div class="sidenote">THE TRAGEDY OF PAIN</div> + +<p>I think I may get this posted by a war +correspondent who is going home, but I never know +whether my letters reach you or not, for yours, if +you write them, never reach me. I can't begin +to tell you all that is happening, and it is really +beyond what one is able to describe. The tragedy +of pain is the thing that is most evident, and there +is the roar and the racket of it and the everlasting +sound of guns. The war seems to me now to mean +nothing but torn limbs and stretchers. All the +doctors say that never have they seen men so +wounded.</p> + +<p>The day that we got here was the day that +Dixmude was bombarded, and our ten ambulances +(motor) went out to fetch in wounded. These +were shoved in anywhere, dying and dead, and our +men went among the shells with buildings falling +about them and took out all they could. Except +where the fire is hottest one women goes with each +car. So far I have been doing ward work, but one +of the doctors is taking me on an ambulance this +afternoon. Most of the women who go are very +good chauffeurs themselves, so they are chosen +before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> a person who can't drive. They are splendid +creatures, and funk nothing, and they are there to +do a little dressing if it is needed.</p> + +<p>The firing is awfully heavy to-day. They say it +is the big French guns that have got up. Two of +our ambulances have had miraculous escapes after +being hit. Things happen too quickly to know +how to describe them. To-day when I went out to +breakfast an old village woman aged about 70 +was brought in wounded in two places. I am not +fond of horrors.</p> + +<p>We have been given an empty house for the +staff, the owners having quitted it in a panic and +left everything, children's toys on the carpet, +and beds unmade. The hospital is a college +for priests, all of whom have fled. Into this +building the wounded are carried day and night, +and the surgeons are working in shifts and can't +get the work done. We are losing, alas! so many +patients. Nothing can be done for them, and I +always feel so glad when they are gone. I don't +think anyone can realise what it is to be just behind +the line of battle, and I fear there would not be +much recruiting if people at home could see our +wards. One can only be thankful for a hospital +like this in the thick of things, for we are saving +lives, and not only so, but saving the lives of men +who perhaps have lain three days in a trench or a +turnip-field undiscovered and forgotten.</p> + +<p>As soon as a wounded man has been attended to +and is able to be put on a stretcher again he is +sent to Calais. We have to keep emptying the +wards for other patients to come in, and besides, if +the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> fighting comes this way, we shall have to fall +back a little further.</p> + +<p>We have a river between us and the Germans, so +we shall always know when they are coming and +get a start and be all right.</p> + +<p class="lf_sal">Your loving</p> +<p class="lf_sig"><span class="smcap">S. Macnaughtan.</span></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><i>25 October.</i>—A glorious day. Up in the blue +even Taubes—those birds of prey—look beautiful, +like eagles wheeling in their flight. It is all far too +lovely to leave, yet men are killing each other painfully +with every day that dawns.</p> + +<p>I had a tiresome day in spite of the weather, +because the hospital was evacuated suddenly owing +to the nearness of the Germans, and I missed going +with the ambulance, so I hung about all day.</p> + +<p><i>26 October. My birthday.</i>—This morning several +women were brought in horribly wounded. One +girl of sixteen had both legs smashed. I was +taking one old woman to the civil hospital and I +had to pass eighteen dead men; they were laid out +beside some women who were washing clothes, and +I noticed how tired even in death their poor dirty +feet looked.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">TO THE EDGE OF THE FIGHTING LINE</div> + +<p>We started early in the ambulance to-day, and +went to pick up the wounded. It was a wild gusty +morning, one of those days when the sky takes up +nearly all the picture and the world looks small. +The mud was deep on the road, and a cyclist corps +plunged heavily along through it. The car steered +badly and we drove to the edge of the fighting-line.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> +First one comes to a row of ammunition vans, +with men cooking breakfast behind them. Then +come the long grey guns, tilted at various angles, +and beyond are the shells bursting and leaving +little clouds of black or white in the sky. We +signalled to a gun not to fire down the road in +much the same way as a bobby signals to a hansom. +When we got beyond the guns they fired over us +with a long streaky sort of sound. We came back +to the road and picked up the wounded wherever +we could find them.</p> + +<p>The churches are nearly all filled with straw, the +chairs piled anywhere, and the sacrament removed +from the altar. In cottages and little inns it is the +same thing—a litter of straw, and men lying on it +in the chilly weather. Here and there through +some little window one sees surgeons in their white +coats dressing wounds. Half the world seems to be +wounded and inefficient. We filled our ambulance, +and stood about in curious groups of English men +and women who looked as if they were on some +shooting-party. When our load was complete we +drove home.</p> + +<p>Dr. Munro told me that last night he met a +German prisoner quite naked being marched in, +proudly holding his head up. Lots of the men +fight naked in the trenches. In hospital we meet +delightful German youths.</p> + +<p>Amongst others who were brought in to-day was +Mr. "Dick" Reading, the editor of a sporting +paper. He was serving in the Belgian army, and +was behind a gun-carriage when it was fired upon +and started. Reading clung on behind with both +his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> legs broken, and he stuck to it till the gun-carriage +was pulled up! He came in on a stretcher +as bright as a button, smoking a cigar and laughing.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">POPERINGHE</div> + +<p>Late this afternoon we had to turn out of Furnes +and fly to Poperinghe. The drive was intensely +interesting, through crowds of troops of every +nationality, and the town seemed large and well +lighted. It was crowded with people to see all our +ambulances arrive. We went to a café, where +there was a fire but nothing to eat, so some of the +party went out and bought chops, and I cooked +them in a stuffy little room which smelt of burnt +fat.</p> + +<p>After supper we went to a convent where the +Queen of the Belgians had made arrangements for +us to sleep. It was delightful. Each of us had a +snowy white bed with white curtains in a long +corridor, and there was a basin of water, cold but +clean, and a towel for each of us. We thoroughly +enjoyed our luxuries.</p> + +<p><i>28 October.</i>—The tide of battle seems to have +swung away from us again and we were recalled to +Furnes to-day. The hospital looked very bare +and empty as all the patients had been evacuated, +and there was nothing to do till fresh ones should +come in. Three shells came over to-day and landed +in a field near us. Some people say they were sent +by our own naval guns firing wide. The souvenir +grafters went out and got pieces of them.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">DUNKIRK</div> + +<p><i>2 November.</i>—I have been spending a couple of +nights in Dunkirk, where I went to meet Miss Fyfe. +The <i>Invicta</i> got in late because the <i>Hermes</i> had +been torpedoed and they had gone to her assistance. +No<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> doubt the torpedo was intended for the <i>Invicta</i>, +which carries ammunition, and is becoming an +unpopular boat in consequence. Forty of the +<i>Hermes</i> men were lost.</p> + +<p>Dunkirk is full of people, and one meets friends +at every turn. I had tea at the Consulate one +afternoon, and was rather glad to get away from +the talk of shells and wounds, which is what one +hears most of at Furnes.</p> + +<p>I saw Lord Kitchener in the town one day; he +had come to confer with Joffre, Sir John French, +Monsieur Poincaré, and Mr. Churchill, at a meeting +held at the Chapeau Rouge Hotel. Rather too +many valuable men in one room, I thought—especially +with so many spies about! Three men +in English officers' uniforms were found to be +Germans the other day and taken out and shot.</p> + +<p>The Duchess of Sutherland has a hospital at our +old Casino at Malo les Bains, and has made it very +nice. I had a long chat with a Coldstream man who +was there. He told me he was carried to a barn +after being shot in the leg and the bone shattered. +He lay there for six days before he was found, with +nothing to eat but a few biscuits. He dressed his +own wound.</p> + +<p>"But," he said, "the string of my puttee had +been driven in so far by the shot I couldn't find it +to get the thing off, so I had to bandage over it."</p> + +<p>I went down to the station one day to see if anything +could be done for the wounded there. They +are coming in at the rate of seven hundred a day, +and are laid on straw in an immense goods-shed. +They get nothing to eat, and the atmosphere is so +bad<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> that their wounds can't be dressed. They are +all patient, as usual, only the groans are heartbreaking +sometimes. We are arranging to have +soup given to them, and a number of ambulance +men arrived who will remove them to hospital ships +and trains. But the goods-shed is a shambles, and +let us leave it at that.<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> It must not be thought that in this and in subsequent +passages referring to the sufferings of the wounded Miss Macnaughtan +alludes to any hardships endured by British troops. +Her time in Flanders was all spent behind the French and +Belgian lines.—<span class="smcap">Ed.</span></p></div> + +<p>Mrs. Knocker came into Dunkirk for a night's +rest while I was staying there. She had been out +all the previous day in a storm of wind and rain +driving an ambulance. It was heavy with wounded, +and shells were dropping very near. She—the most +courageous woman that ever lived—was quite +unnerved at last. The glass of the car she was +driving was dim with rain and she could carry +no lights, and with this swaying load of injured men +behind her on the rutty road she had to stick to her +wheel and go on.</p> + +<p>Some one said to her, "There is a doctor in such-and-such +a farmhouse, and he has no dressings. +You must take him these."</p> + +<p>She demurred (a most unusual thing for her), +but men do not protect women in this war, and +they said she had to take them. She asked one of +the least wounded of the men to get down and see +what was in front of her, and he disappeared +altogether. The dark mass she had seen in the +road was a huge hole made by a shell! After +steering into dead horses and going over awful +roads<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> Mrs. Knocker came bumping into the yard, +steering so badly that they ran to see what was +wrong, and they found her fainting, and she was +carried into the house. At Dunkirk she got a good +dinner and a night's rest.</p> + +<p><i>Furnes. 5 November.</i>—The hospital is beginning +to fill up again, and the nurses are depressed because +only those cases which are nearly hopeless are +allowed to stay, so it is death on all sides and just a +hell of suffering. One man yelled to me to-night +to kill him. I wish I might have done so. The +tragedy of war presses with a fearful weight after +being in a hospital, and wherever one is one hears +the infernal sound of the guns. On Sunday about +forty shells came into Furnes, but I was at Dunkirk. +This morning about five dropped on to the +station.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">NIEUPORT</div> + +<p>To-day I went out to Nieuport. It is like some +town one sees in a horrible nightmare. Hardly a +house is left standing, but that does not describe the +scene. Nothing can fitly describe it except perhaps +such a pen as Victor Hugo's. The cathedral at +Nieuport has two outer walls left standing. The +front leans forward helplessly, the aisles are gone. +The trees round about are burnt up and shot +away. In the roadway are great holes which shells +have made. The very cobbles of the street are scattered +by them. Not a window remains in the place; +all are shattered and many hang from their frames. +The fronts of the houses have fallen out, and one +sees glimpses of wretched domestic life: a baby's +cradle hangs in mid-air, some tin boxes have fallen +through from the box-room in the attic to the +ground<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> floor. Shops are shivered and their contents +strewn on all sides; the interiors of other +houses have been hollowed out by fire. There is +a toy-shop with dolls grinning vacantly at the ruins +or bobbing brightly on elastic strings.</p> + +<p>In a wretched cottage some soldiers are having +breakfast at a fine-carved table. In one house, +surrounded by a very devastation of wreckage, some +cheap ornaments stand intact on a mantelpiece. +From another a little ginger-coloured cat strolls +out unconcernedly! The bedsteads hanging midway +between floors look twisted and thrawn—nothing +stands up straight. Like the wounded, the +town has been rendered inefficient by war.</p> + +<p><i>6 November.</i>—Furnes always seems to me a +weird tragic place. I cannot think why this is so, +but its influence is to me rather curious. I feel as +if all the time I was living in some blood-curdling +ghost story or a horrid dream. Every day I try to +overcome the feeling, but I can't succeed. This +afternoon I made up my mind to return to our +villa and write my diary. The day was lovely, and +I meant to enjoy a rest and a scribble, but so +strong was the horrid influence of the place that I +couldn't settle to anything. I can't describe it, but +it seemed to stifle me, and I can only compare it to +some second sight in which one sees death. I sat +as long as I could doing my writing, but I had to +give in at last, and I tucked my book under my +arm and walked back to the hospital, where at least +I was with human beings and not ghosts.</p> + +<p>Our life here is made up of many elements and +many people, all rather incongruous, but the +average<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> of human nature is good. A villa belonging +to a Dr. Joos was given to our staff. It is a +pretty little house, with three beds in it, and we +are eighteen people, so most of us sleep on the floor. +It wouldn't be a bad little place (except for the +drains) if only there wasn't this horrid influence +about it all. I always particularly dislike toddling +after people like a little lost dog, but here I find +that unless I am with somebody the ghosts get the +better of me.</p> + +<p>The villa is being ruined by us I fear, but I have +a woman to clean it, and I am trying to keep it in +order. It is a cold little place for we have no +fires. We can, by pumping, get a little very cold +water, and there is a tap in the bath-room and one +basin at which everyone tries to wash and shave at +the same time. We get our meals at a butcher's +shop, where there is a large room which we more +than fill. The lights of the town are all out by +6 o'clock, so we grope about, but there is a lamp in +our dining-room. When we come out we have to +pass through the butcher's shop, and one may find +oneself running into the interior of a sheep.</p> + +<p>We get up about 7 o'clock and fight for the +basin. Then we walk round to the butcher's shop +and have breakfast at 7.30. Most people think +they start off for the day's work at 8, but it is +generally quite 10 o'clock before all the brown-hooded +ambulances with their red crosses have +moved out of the yard. We do not as a rule meet +again till dinner-time, and even then many of the +party are absent. They come in at all times, very +dirty and hungry, and the greeting is always the +same,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> "Did you get many?"—<i>i.e.</i>, "Have you +picked up many wounded?"</p> + +<p>One night Dr. Munro got bowled over by +the actual air force created by a shell, which however +did not hit him. Yesterday Mr. Secher was +shot in the leg. I am amazed that not more get +hit. They are all very cheery about it.</p> + +<p>To-day we heard that a jolly French boy with +white teeth, who has been very good at making +coffee at our picnic lunches, was put up against a +tree and shot at daybreak. Someone had made him +drunk the night before, and he had threatened an +officer with a revolver.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">A DRAMATIC INCIDENT</div> + +<p><i>7 November. St. Malo les Bains.</i>—Lady Bagot +turned up here to-day, and I lunched with her at +the Hôtel des Arcades. Just before lunch a bomb +was dropped from a Taube overhead, and hardly +had we sat down to lunch when a revolver shot +rang through the room. A French officer had +discharged his pistol by mistake, and he lay on the +floor in his scarlet trews. The scene was really the +Adelphi, and as the man had only slightly hurt himself +one was able to appreciate the scenic effect and +to notice how well staged it was. A waiter ran for +me. I ran for dressings to one of our ambulances, +and we knelt in the right attitude beside the hero +in his scarlet clothes, while the "lady of the +bureau" begged for the bullet!</p> + +<p>In the evening Lady Bagot and I worked at the +railway-sheds till 3 a.m. One immense shed had +700 wounded in it. The night scene, with its +inevitable accompaniment of low-turned lamps and +gloom, was one I shall not forget. The railway-lines<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> +on each side of the covered platform were +spread with straw, and on this wounded men, +bedded down like cattle, slept. There were rows +of them sleeping feet to feet, with straw over them +to make a covering. I didn't hear a grumble, and +hardly a groan. Most of them slept heavily.</p> + +<p>Near the door was a row of Senegalese, their +black faces and gleaming eyes looking strange +above the straw; and further on were some +Germans, whom the French authorities would not +allow our men to touch; then rows of men of every +colour and blood; Zouaves, with their picturesque +dress all grimed and colourless; Turcos, French, +and Belgians. Nearly all had their heads and hands +bound up in filthy dressings. We went into the +dressing-station at the far end of the great shed +and dressed wounds till about 3 o'clock, then we +passed through the long long lines of sleeping +wounded men again and went home.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center"><i>To Lady Clémentine Wearing.</i></p> + +<p class="lh_ind2"><i>8 November.</i></p> +<p><span class="smcap">My dearest Clemmie,</span></p> + +<p>I have a big job for you. Will you do it? +I know you are the person for it, and you will be +prompt and interested.</p> + +<p>The wounded are suffering from hunger as much +as from their wounds. In most places, such as +dressing-stations and railway-stations, nothing is +provided for them at all, and many men are left for +two or three days without food.</p> + +<p>I wish I could describe it all to you! These +wounded men are picked up after a fight and taken +anywhere—<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>very often to some farmhouse or inn, +where a Belgian surgeon claps something on to the +wounds or ties on a splint, and then our (Dr. +Munro's) ambulances come along and bring the men +into the Field Hospital if they are very bad, or if +not they are taken direct to a station and left there. +They may, and often do, have to wait for hours till +a train loads up and starts. Even those who are +brought to the Field Hospital have to turn out +long before they can walk or sit, and they are +carried to the local station and put into covered +horse-boxes on straw, and have to wait till the +train loads up and starts. You see everything has +to be done with a view to sudden evacuation. We +are so near to the firing-line that the Germans may +sweep on our way at any time, and then every man +has to be cleared out somehow (we have a heap of +ambulances), and the staff is moved off to some +safer place. We did a bolt of this sort to Poperinghe +one day, but after being there two days the +fighting swayed the other way and we were able to +come back.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">HUNGER OF THE WOUNDED</div> + +<p>Well, during all these shiftings and waitings +the wounded get nothing to eat. I want some +travelling-kitchens, and I want you to see about +the whole thing. You may have to come from +Scotland, because I have opened the subject with +Mr. Burbidge, of Harrods' Stores. A Harrods' +man is over here. He takes back this letter. I +particularly want you to see him. Mr. Burbidge +has, or can obtain, old horse-vans which can be +fitted up as travelling-kitchens. He is doing one +now for Millicent, Duchess of Sutherland; it is to +cost<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> £15, which I call very cheap. I wish you +could see it, for I know you could improve upon +it. It is fitted, I understand, with a copper for +boiling soup, and a chimney. There is also a place +for fuel, and I should like a strong box that would +hold vegetables, dried peas, etc., whose top would +serve as a table. Then there must be plenty of +hooks and shelves where possible, and I believe +Burbidge makes some sort of protection against +fire in the way of lining to the van. Harrods' man +says that he doesn't know if they have any more vans +or not.</p> + +<p>I want someone with push and energy to see the +thing right through and get the vans off. The +<i>Invicta</i>, from the Admiralty Pier, Dover, sailing +daily, brings Red Cross things free.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">PROPOSED TRAVELLING-KITCHENS</div> + +<p>The vans would have to have the Red Cross +painted on them, and in <i>small</i> letters, somewhere +inconspicuous, "Miss Macnaughtan's Travelling-Kitchens." +This is only for identification. I +thought we might begin with <i>three</i>, and get them +sent out <i>at once</i>, and go on as they are required. +I must have a capable person and a helper in +charge of each, so that limits my number. The +Germans have beautiful little kitchens at each +station, but I can't be sure what money I can raise, +so must go slow.</p> + +<p>I want also two little trollies, just to hold a tin +jug and some tin cups hung round, with one oil-lamp +to keep the jug hot. The weather will be +bitter soon, and only "special" cases have +blankets.</p> + +<p>Clemmie, if only we could see this thing through +without<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> too much red tape!... No permission +need be given for the work of these kitchens, as we +are under the Belgian Minister of War and act for +Belgium.</p> + +<p>I thought of coming over to London for a day +or two, and I can still do so, only I know you will +be able to do this thing better than anyone, and +will think of things that no one else thinks of. I +can get voluntary workers, but meat and vegetables +are dreadfully dear, so I shan't be able to spend a +great deal on the vans. However, any day they +may be taken by the Germans, so the only thing +that really matters is to get the wounded <i>a</i> mug of +hot soup.</p> + +<p>Last night I was dressing wounds and bandaging +at Dunkirk station till 3 a.m. The men are +brought there in <i>heaps</i>, all helpless, all suffering. +Sometimes there are fifteen hundred in one day. +Last night seven hundred lay on straw in a huge +railway-shed, with straw to cover them—bedded +down like cattle, and all in pain. Still, it is better +than the trenches and shrapnel overhead!</p> + +<p>At the Field Hospital the wounds are ghastly, +and we are losing so many patients! Mere boys of +sixteen come in sometimes mortally wounded, and +there are a good many cases of wounded women. +You see, no one is safe; and, oh, my dear, have +you ever seen a town that has been thoroughly +shelled? At Furnes we have a good many shells +dropping in, but no real bombardment yet. After +Antwerp I don't seem to care about these visitors. +We were under fire there for eighteen hours, and it +was a bit of a strain as our hospital was in a line +with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> the Arsenal, which they were trying to +destroy, so we got more than our share of attention. +The noise was horrible, and the shells came +in at the rate of four a minute. There was something +quite hellish about it.</p> + +<p>Do you remember that great bit of writing in +Job, when Wisdom speaks and says: "Destruction +and Death say, it is not in me"?</p> + +<p>The wantonness and sort of rage of it all appalled +one. Our women behaved splendidly.</p> + +<p>I'll come over to England if you think I had +better, but I am sure you are the person I +want.... If anything should prevent your +helping, please wire to me: otherwise I shall know +things are going forward.</p> + +<p class="lf_sal">Your loving,</p> +<p class="lf_sig"><span class="smcap">S. Macnaughtan.</span></p> + +<p>The vans should be strong as they may have +rough usage; also, to take them to their destination +they may have to be hitched on to a motor-ambulance.</p> + +<p>One or two strong trays in each kitchen would +be useful. The little trollies would be for railway-station +work. As we go on I hope to have one +kitchen for each dressing-station as well.</p> + +<p class="lf_sig"><span class="smcap">Sally.</span></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><i>8 November.</i>—This afternoon I went down to +the Hôtel des Arcades, which is the general meeting +ground for everyone. The drawing-room was full +and so was the Place Jean Bart, on which it looks. +Suddenly we saw people beginning to fly! Soldiers, +old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> men, children in their Sunday clothes, all +running to cover. I asked what was up, and +heard that a Taube was at that moment flying +over our hotel. These are the sort of pleasant +things one hears out here! Then Lady Decies +came running in to say that two bombs had fallen +and twenty people were wounded.</p> + +<p>Once more we got bandages and lint and +hurried off in a motor-car, but the civilian doctors +were looking after everyone. The bomb by good +luck had fallen in a little garden, and had done the +least damage imaginable, but every window in the +neighbourhood was smashed.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">NIGHT WORK AT RAILWAY SHEDS</div> + +<p>At night we went to the railway-sheds and +dressed wounds. I made them do the Germans; +but it was too late for one of them—a handsome +young fellow with both his feet deep blue with +frost-bite, his leg broken, and a great wound in his +thigh. He had not been touched for eight days. +Another man had a great hole right through his +arm and shoulder. The dressing was rough and +ready. The surgeons clapped a great wad of lint +into the hole and we bound it up. There is no hot +water, no sterilising, no cyanide gauze even, but +iodine saves many lives, and we have plenty of it. +The German boy was dying when we left. His +eyes above the straw began to look glazed and dim. +Death, at least, is merciful.</p> + +<p>We work so late at the railway-sheds that I lie +in bed till lunch time. Lady Bagot and I go to the +sheds in the evening and stay there till 1 a.m.</p> + +<p><i>11 November. Boulogne.</i>—I got a letter from +Julia yesterday, telling me that Alan is wounded +and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> in hospital at Boulogne, and asking me to go +and see him.</p> + +<p>I came here this morning and had to run about +for a long time before I started getting a "laissez-passer" +for the road, as spies are being shot almost +at sight now. By good chance I got a motor-car +which brought me all the way; trains are uncertain, +and filled with troops, and one never knows when +they will arrive.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">STORIES OF THE BRITISH FRONT</div> + +<p>I found poor old Alan at the Base Hospital, in +terrible pain, poor boy, but not dangerously +wounded. He has been through an awful time, +and nearly all the officers of his regiment have been +killed or wounded. For my part, in spite of his +pain, I can thank God that he is out of the firing-line +for a bit. The horror of the war has got +right into him, and he has seen things which few +boys of eighteen can have witnessed. Eight days +in the trenches at Ypres under heavy fire day and +night is a pretty severe test, and Alan has behaved +splendidly. He told me the most awful tales of +what he had seen, but I believe it did him good to +get things off his chest, so I listened. The thing +he found the most ghastly was the fact that when a +trench has been taken or lost the wounded and +dying and dead are left out in the open. He says that +firing never ceases, and it is impossible to reach these +men, who die of starvation within sight of their +comrades.</p> + +<p>"Sometimes," Alan said, "we see them raise +themselves on an arm for an instant, and they yell +to us to come to them, but we can't."</p> + +<p>His own wound was received when the Germans +"got<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> their range to an inch" and began shelling +their trenches. A whole company next to Alan +was wiped out, and he started to go back to tell +his Colonel the trench could not be held. The +communication trench by which he went was not +quite finished, and he had to get out into the open +and race across to where the unfinished trench +began again. Poor child, running for his life! +He was badly hit in the groin, but managed just +to tumble into the next bit of the trench, where +he found two men who carried him, pouring with +blood, to his Colonel. He was hastily bound up +and carried four miles on crossed rifles to the hospital +at Ypres, where his wound was properly dressed, and +after an hour he was put on the train for Boulogne.</p> + +<p>Alan had one story of how he was told to wait +at a certain spot with 130 men. "So I waited," +he said, "but the fire was awful." His regiment +had, it seems, gone round another way. "I got +thirty of the men away," Alan said, "the rest were +killed." It means something to be an officer and a +gentleman.</p> + +<p>Every day the list of casualties grows longer, and +I wonder who will be left.</p> + +<p><i>19 November. Furnes.</i>—Early on Monday, the +16th, I left Boulogne in Lady Bagot's car and came +to Dunkirk, where I was laid up with a cold for +two or three days. It was singularly uncomfortable, +as no one ever answered my bell, etc.; but I +had a bed, which is always such a comfort, and the +room was heated, so I got my things dry. Very +often I find the only way to do this or to get dry +clothing is to take things to bed with one—it is +rather<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> chilly, but better than putting on wet things +in the morning.</p> + +<p>The usual number of unexpected people keep +coming and going. At Boulogne I met Lady +Eileen Elliot, Ian Malcolm, Lord Francis Scott, and +various others—all very English and clean and well +fed. It was quite different from Furnes, to which +I returned on Wednesday. Most of us sleep on +mattresses on the floor at Furnes, but even these +were all occupied, so I hopped about getting in +where I could. The cold weather "set in in +earnest" as newspapers say, and when it does that +in Furnes it seems to be particularly in earnest.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center"><i>To Lady Clémentine Waring.</i></p> + +<p class="lh_ind0"><span class="smcap">Hôtel des Arcades,</span></p> +<p class="lh_ind4"><span class="smcap">Dunkerque,</span></p> +<p class="lh_ind2"><i>18 November, 1914.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dearest Clemmie,</span></p> + +<p>Forgive the delay in writing again. I was +too sick about it all at first, then I was sent for to +go to Boulogne to see my nephew, who is badly +wounded. I can't explain the present situation to +you because it would only be censored, but I hope +to write about it later.</p> + +<p>I shall manage the soup-kitchens soon, I hope, but +next week will decide that and many things. The objection +to the <i>pattern</i> is that those vans would overturn +going round corners when hitched on behind +ambulances. Some wealthy people are giving a +regular motor kitchen to run about to various "dressing"-stations—this +will be most useful, but it doesn't +do away with the need of something to eat during +those interminable waits at the <i>railway</i>-stations.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">CHANGES IN THE SITUATION</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> +To-morrow I begin my own little soup-kitchen +at Furnes. I have a room but no van, and this is +most unsatisfactory, as any day the room (so near +the station) may be commandeered. A van would +make me quite independent, but I must feel my +way. The situation changes very often, as you will +of course see, and when one is quite close to the +Front one has to be always changing with it.</p> + +<p>I want helpers and I want vans, but rules are +becoming stricter than ever. Even Adeline, +Duchess of Bedford, whose good work everyone +knows, has waited for a permit for a week at +Boulogne, and has now gone home. When all the +useful women have been expelled there will follow +the usual tale of soldiers' suffering and privations: +when women are about they don't let them suffer.</p> + +<p>The only plan (if you know of any man who +wants to come out) is to know how to drive a +motor-car and then to offer it and his services to +the Red Cross Society. I have set my heart on +station soup-kitchens because I see the men put +into horse-boxes on straw straight off the field, and +there they lie without water or light or food while +the train jolts on for hours. I wish I had you here +to back me up! We could do anything together.</p> + +<p class="lf_sal">As ever, yours gratefully,</p> +<p class="lf_sig"><span class="smcap">Sally.</span></p> + +<p>The motor kitchens cost £600 fitted, but the +maker is giving the one I speak of for £300. Everyone +has given so much to the war I don't feel sure +I could collect this amount. I might try America, +but it takes a long time.</p> + + + +<hr class="full" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I_III" id="CHAPTER_I_III"></a>CHAPTER III +<span class="totoc"><a href="#CONTENTS">ToC</a></span></h2> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p> +<h3>AT FURNES RAILWAY-STATION</h3> + +<p><i>21 November.</i>—I am up to my eyes in soup! I +have started my soup-kitchen at the station, and it +gives me a lot to do. Bad luck to it, my cold and +cough are pretty bad!</p> + +<p>It is odd to wake in the morning in a frozen +room, with every pane of glass green and thick +with frost, and one does not dare to think of Mary +and morning tea! When I can summon enough +moral courage to put a foot out of bed I jump into +my clothes at once; half dressed, I go to a little +tap of cold water to wash, and then, and for ever, I +forgive entirely those sections of society who do +not tub. We brush our own boots here, and put +on all the clothes we possess, and then descend to a +breakfast of Quaker oat porridge with bread and +margarine. I wouldn't have it different, really, +till our men are out of the trenches; but I am +hoping most fervently that I shan't break down, +as I am so "full with soup."</p> + +<div class="sidenote">WORK IN THE SOUP-KITCHEN</div> + +<p>Our kitchen at the railway-station is a little bit +of a passage, which measures eight feet by eight +feet. In it are two small stoves. One is a little +round iron thing which burns, and the other is a +sort of little "kitchener" which doesn't! With +this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> equipment, and various huge "marmites," we +make coffee and soup for hundreds of men every +day. The first convoy gets into the station about +9.30 a.m., all the men frozen, the black troops +nearly dead with cold. As soon as the train +arrives I carry out one of my boiling "marmites" +to the middle of the stone entrance and ladle out +the soup, while a Belgian Sister takes round coffee +and bread.</p> + +<p>These Belgians (three of them) deserve much of +the credit for the soup-kitchen, if any credit is +going about, as they started with coffee before I +came, and did wonders on nothing. Now that I +have bought my pots and pans and stoves we are +able to do soup, and much more. The Sisters +do the coffee on one side of eight feet by eight, +while I and my vegetables and the stove which +goes out are on the other. We can't ask people to +help because there is no room in the kitchen; +besides, alas! there are so many people who like +raising a man's head and giving him soup, but who +do not like cutting up vegetables.</p> + +<p>After the first convoy of wounded has been +served, other wounded men come in from time to +time, then about 4 o'clock there is another train-load. +At ten p.m. the largest convoy arrives. +The men seem too stiff to move, and many are +carried in on soldiers' backs. The stretchers are +laid on the floor, those who can "s'asseoir" sit on +benches, and every man produces a "quart" or tin +cup. One and all they come out of the darkness +and never look about them, but rouse themselves to +get fed, and stretch out poor grimy hands for bread +and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> steaming drinks. There is very little light—only +one oil-lamp, which hangs from the roof, and +burns dimly. Under this we place the "marmites," +and all that I can see is one brown or black or +wounded hand stretched out into the dim ring of +light under the lamp, with a little tin mug held out +for soup. Wet and ragged, and covered with sticky +mud, the wounded lie in the salle of the station, +and, except under the lamp, it is all quite dark. +There are dim forms and frosty breaths, and a door +which bangs continually, and then the train loads +up, the wounded depart, and a heavy smell and an +empty pot are all that remain. We clean up the +kitchen, and go home about 1 a.m. I do the night +work alone.</p> + +<p><i>24 November.</i>—We are beginning to get into +our stride, and the small kitchen turns out its +gallons and buckets of liquid. Mrs. —— has been +helping me with my work. It is good to see anyone +so beautiful in the tiny kitchen, and it is quaint +to see anyone so absolutely ignorant of how a pot +is washed or a vegetable peeled.</p> + +<p>I have a little electric lamp, which is a great +comfort to me, as I have to walk home alone at +midnight. When I get up in the morning I have +to remember all I shall want during the day, as the +villa is a mile from the station, so I take my lantern +out at 9.30 a.m.!</p> + +<p>I saw a Belgian regiment march back to the +trenches to-day. They had a poor little band and +some foggy instruments, and a bugler flourished a +trumpet. I stood by the roadside and cried till I +couldn't see.</p> + +<hr /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center"><i>To Miss Mary King.</i></p> + +<p class="lh_ind2"><span class="smcap">Furnes, Belgium,</span></p> +<p class="lh_ind0"><i>27 November.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Mary,</span></p> + +<div class="sidenote">A LETTER HOME</div> + +<p>You will like to know that I have a soup-kitchen +at the station here, and I am up to my +neck in soup. I make it all day and a good bit of +the night too, for the wounded are coming in all +the time, and they are half frozen—especially the +black troops. People are being so kind about the +work I am doing, and they are all saying what a +comfort the soup is to the men. Sometimes I feed +several hundreds in a day.</p> + +<p>I am sure everyone will grieve to hear of the +death of Lord Roberts, but I think he died just as +he would wish to have died—amongst his old troops, +who loved him, and in the service of the King. +He was a fine soldier and a Christian gentleman, +and you can't say better of a man than that.</p> + +<p>I feel as if I had been out here for years, and it +seems quite odd to think that one used to wear +evening dress and have a fire in one's room. I am +promising myself, if all goes well, to get home +about Christmas-time. I wish I could think +that the war would be over by then, but it doesn't +look very like it.</p> + +<p>Remember me to Gwennie, and to all your +people. Take care of your old self.</p> + +<p class="lf_sal">Yours truly,</p> +<p class="lf_sig"><span class="smcap">S. Macnaughtan.</span></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><i>1 December.</i>—Mrs. Knocker and Miss Chisholm +and Lady Dorothy went out to Pervyse a few days +ago<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> to make soup, etc., for Belgians in the trenches. +They live in the cellar of a house which has been +blown inside out by guns, and take out buckets of +soup to men on outpost duty. Not a glimpse of +fire is allowed on the outposts. Fortunately the +weather has been milder lately, but soaking wet. +Our three ladies walk about the trenches at night, +and I come home at 1 a.m. from the station. The +men of our party meanwhile do some house-work. +They sit over the fire a good deal, clear away the +tea-things, and when we come home at night we +find they have put hot-water bottles in our beds +and trimmed some lamps. I feel like Alice in +Wonderland or some other upside-down world. +We live in much discomfort, which is a little unnecessary; +but no one seems to want to undertake +housekeeping.</p> + +<p>I make soup all day, and there is not much else +to write about. All along the Yser the Allies and +the Germans confront each other, but things have +been quieter lately. The piteous list of casualties +is not so long as it has been. A wounded German +was brought in to-day. Both his legs were broken +and his feet frost-bitten. He had been for four +days in water with nothing to eat, and his legs +unset. He is doing well.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">PERVYSE</div> + +<p>On Sunday I drove out to Pervyse with a kind +friend, Mr. Tapp. At the end of the long avenue +by which one approaches the village, Pervyse +church stands, like a sentinel with both eyes shot +out. Nothing is left but a blind stare. Hardly +any of the church remains, and the churchyard is +as if some devil had stalked through it, tearing up +crosses<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> and kicking down graves. Even the dead +are not left undisturbed in this awful war. The +village (like many other villages) is just a mass of +gaping ruins—roofs blown off, streets full of holes, +not a window left unshattered, and the guns still +booming.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center"><i>To Mrs. Charles Percival.</i></p> + +<p class="lh_ind4"><span class="smcap">Furnes, Belgium,</span></p> +<p class="lh_ind2"><i>5 December.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Darling Tab,</span></p> + +<p>I have a chance of sending this to England +to be posted, so I must send you a line to wish you +many happy returns of the day. I wish we could +have our yearly kiss. I will think of you a lot, my +dear, on the 8th, and drink your health if I can +raise the wherewithal. We are not famous for our +comforts, and it would amaze you to see how very +nasty food can be, and how very little one can get +of it.</p> + +<p>I have an interesting job now, and it is my own, +which is rather a mercy, as I never know which is +most common, dirt or muddle. I can have things +as clean as I like, and my soup is getting quite a +name for itself. The first convoy of wounded +generally comes into the station about 11 a.m. It +may number anything. Then the men are put +into the train, and there begins a weary wait for +the poor fellows till more wounded arrive and the +train is loaded up, and sometimes they are kept +there all day. The stretcher cases are in a long +corridor, and the sitting-up cases in ordinary third-class +carriages. The sitters are worn, limping men, +with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> bandaged heads, and hands bound up, who +are yet capable of sitting up in a train.</p> + +<p>The transport is well done, I think (<i>far</i> better +than in South Africa), but more women are wanted +to look after details. To give you one instance: +all stretchers are made of different sizes, so that if +a man arrives on an ambulance, the stretchers +belonging to it cannot go into the train, and the +poor wounded man has to be lifted and "transferred," +which causes him (in the case of broken +legs or internal injuries especially) untold suffering. +It also takes up much room, and gives endless +trouble for the sake of an <i>inch and a half</i> of space, +which is the usual difference in the size of the +stretchers, but that prevents them slipping into +the sockets on the train.</p> + +<p>Another thing I have noticed is, that no man, +even lying down in the train, ever gets his boots +taken off. The men's feet are always soaked +through, as they have been standing up to their +knees in water in the trenches; but, of course, +slippers are unheard of. I do wonder if ladies +could be persuaded to make any sort of list or felt +or even flannel slippers? I saw quite a good +pattern the other day, and will try to send you one, +in case Eastbourne should rise to the occasion. +Of course, there must be <i>hundreds</i> of pairs, and +heaps would get lost. I do believe other centres +would join, and the cost of material for slippers +would be quite trifling. A priest goes in each +corridor train, and there is always a stove where +the boots could be dried. I believe slippers can be +bought for about a shilling a pair. The men's feet +are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> <i>enormous</i>. Cases should be marked with a red +cross, and sent per <span class="smcap">s.s.</span> <i>Invicta</i>, Admiralty Pier, +Dover.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">THE SHELLING OF LAMPERNESSE</div> + +<p>The fighting has had a sort of lull here for some +time, but there are always horrible things happening. +The other day at Lampernesse, 500 soldiers +were sleeping on straw in a church. A spy informed +the Germans, who were twelve miles off, but they +got the range to an inch, and sent shells straight +into the church, killing and wounding nearly everyone +in it, and leaving men under the ruins. We +had some terrible cases that day. The church was +shelled at 6 a.m., and by 11 a.m. all the wounded +were having soup and coffee at the station. I +thought their faces were more full of horror than +any I had seen.</p> + +<p>The parson belonging to our convoy is a particularly +nice young fellow. I have had a bad cold +lately, and every night he puts a hot-water bottle +in my bed. When he can raise any food he lays a +little supper for me, so that when I come in between +12 and 1 o'clock I can have something to eat, a +lump of cheese, plum jam, and perhaps a piece of +bully beef, always three pieces of ginger from a +paper bag he has of them. Last night when I got +back I found I couldn't open the door leading into +a sort of garage through which we have to enter +this house. I pushed as hard as I could, and then +found I was pushing against horses, and that a +whole squad of troop horses had been shoved in +there for the night, so I had to make my entry +under their noses and behind their heels. Pinned +to the table inside the house was a note from the +parson,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> "I can't get you any food, but I have put +a bottle of port-wine in your room. Stick to it."</p> + +<p>I had meant to go early to church to-day, but I +was really too tired, so I am writing to you instead. +Now I must be getting up, for "business must be +attended to."</p> + +<p>Well, good-bye, my dear. I am always too busy +to write now, so would you mind sending this +letter on to the family?</p> + +<p class="lf_sal">Your loving sister,</p> +<p class="lf_sig"><span class="smcap">S. Macnaughtan.</span></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><i>December.</i>—Unexpected people continue to +arrive at Furnes. Mme. Curie and her daughter +are in charge of the X-ray apparatus at the +hospital. Sir Bartle Frere is there as a guest. +Miss Vaughan, of the <i>Nursing Times</i>, came in out +of the dark one evening. To-day the King has +been here. God bless him! he always does the +right thing.</p> + +<p><i>6 December.</i>—My horizon is bounded by soup +and the men who drink it. There is a stir outside +the kitchen, and someone says, "Convoi." So then +we begin to fill pots and take steaming "marmites" +off the fire. The "sitting cases" come in first, +hobbling, or carried on their comrades' backs—heads +and feet bandaged or poor hands maimed. +When they have been carried or have stiffly and +slowly marched through the entrance to the train, +the "brancard" cases are brought in and laid on +the floor. They are hastily examined, and a doctor +goes round reading the labels attached to them +which describe their wounds. An English ambulance<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> +and a French one wait to take serious +cases to their respective hospitals. The others are +lifted on to train-stretchers and carried to the train.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">A QUESTION OF STRETCHERS</div> + +<p>Two doctors came out from England on inspection +duty to-day. They asked if I had anything to +report, and I made them come to the station to go +into this matter of the different-sized stretchers. +It is agony to the men to be shifted. Dr. Wilson +has promised to take up the question. The transport +service is now much improved. The trains +are heated and lighted, and priests travel with the +lying-down cases.</p> + +<p><i>8 December.</i>—I have a little "charette" for my +soup. It is painted red, and gives a lot of amusement +to the wounded. The trains are very long, +and my small carriage is useful for cups and basins, +bread, soup, coffee, etc. Clemmie Waring designed +and sent it to me.</p> + +<p>To-day I was giving out my soup on the train +and three shells came in in quick succession. One +came just over my head and lodged in a haystall +on the other side of the platform. The wall of the +store has an enormous hole in it, but the thickly +packed hay prevented the shrapnel scattering. +The station-master was hit, and his watch saved +him, but it was crumpled up like a rag. Two men +were wounded, and one of them died. A whole +crowd of refugees came in from Coxide, which is +being heavily shelled. There was not a scrap of +food for them, so I made soup in great quantities, +and distributed it to them in a crowded room whose +atmosphere was thick. Ladling out the soup is +great fun.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> +<i>12 December.</i>—The days are very short now, and +darkness falls early. All the streets are dark, so are +the houses, so is the station. Two candles are +a rare treat, and oil is difficult to get.</p> + +<p>Such a nice boy died to-night. We brought him +to the hospital from the station, and learned that he +had lain for eight days wounded and untended. +Strangely enough he was naked, and had only +a blanket over him on the stretcher. I do not +know why he was still alive. Everything was done +for him that could be done, but as I passed through +one of the wards this evening the nurses were doing +their last kindly duty to him. Poor fellow! He +was one of those who had "given even their names." +No one knew who he was. He had a woman's +portrait tattooed on his breast.</p> + +<p><i>19 December.</i>—Not much to record this week. +The days have become more stereotyped, and their +variety consists in the number of wounded who +come in. One day we had 280 extra men to feed—a +batch of soldiers returning hungry to the +trenches, and some refugees. So far we have never +refused anyone a cup of soup; or coffee and bread.</p> + +<p>I haven't been fit lately, and get fearful bad +headaches. I go to the station at 10 a.m. every +morning, and work till 1 o'clock. Then to the +hospital for lunch. I like the staff there very +much. The surgeons are not only skilful, but +they are men of education. We all get on well +together, in spite of that curious form of temper +which war always seems to bring. No one is affable +here, except those who have just come out from +home, and it is quite common to hear a request +made<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> and refused, or granted with, "Please do not +ask again." Newcomers are looked upon as aliens, +and there is a queer sort of jealousy about all the +work.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">WAR WORKERS' DIFFICULTIES</div> + +<p>Oddly enough, few persons seem to show at their +best at a time when the best should be apparent. +No doubt, it is a form of nerves, which is quite +pardonable. Nurses and surgeons do not suffer +from it. They are accustomed to work and to +seeing suffering, but amateur workers are a bit +headlong at times. I think the expectation of +excitement (which is often frustrated) has a good +deal to do with it. Those who "come out for +thrills" often have a long waiting time, and energies +unexpended in one direction often show themselves +unexpectedly and a little unpleasantly in another.</p> + +<p>In my own department I always let Zeal spend +itself unchecked, and I find that people who have +claimed work or a job ferociously are the first to +complain of over-work if left to themselves. Afterwards, +if there is any good in them, they settle +down into their stride. They are only like young +horses, pulling too hard at first and sweating off +their strength—jibbing one moment and shying +the next—when it comes to "'ammer, 'ammer, +'ammer on the 'ard 'igh road," one finds who is going +to stick it and who is not.</p> + +<p>There has been some heavy firing round about +Nieuport and south of the Yser lately, and an +unusual number of wounded have been coming in, +many of them "gravement blessés."</p> + +<p>One evening a young French officer came to the +kitchen for soup. It was on Wednesday, December<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> +16th, the day the Allies assumed the offensive, +and all night cases were being brought in. He was +quite a boy, and utterly shaken by what he had been +through. He could only repeat, "It was horrible, +horrible!" These are the men who tell brave tales +when they get home, but we see them dirty and +worn, when they have left the trenches only an +hour before, and have the horror of battle in their +eyes.</p> + +<p>There are scores of "pieds gelés" at present, and +I now have bags of socks for these. So many men +come in with bare feet, and I hope in time to get +carpet slippers and socks for them all. One night +no one came to help, and I had a great business +getting down a long train, so Mrs. Logette has +promised to come every evening. The kitchen is +much nicer now, as we are in a larger passage, and +we have three stoves, lamps, etc. Many things +are being "straightened out" besides, my poor +little corner and war seems better understood. +There is hardly a thing which is not thought of +and done for the sick and wounded, and I should +say a grievance was impossible.</p> + +<p>I still lodge at the Villa Joos, and am beginning +to enjoy a study of middle-class provincial life. The +ladies do all the house-work. We have breakfast +(a bite) in the kitchen at 8.30 a.m., then I go to +make soup, and when I come back after lunch for +a rest, "the family" are dressed and sitting round +a stove, and this they continue to do till a meal has +to be prepared. There is one lamp and one table, +and one stove, and unless papa plays the pianola +there is nothing to do but talk. No one reads, and +only<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> one woman does a little embroidery, while the +small girl of the party cuts out scraps from a +fashion paper.</p> + +<p>The poor convoy! it is becoming very squabbly +and tiresome, and there is a good deal of "talking +over," which is one of the weakest sides of "communal +life." It is petty and ridiculous to quarrel +when Death is so near, and things are so big and +often so tragic. Yet human nature has strict +limitations. Mr. Ramsay MacDonald came out +from the committee to see what all the complaints +were about. So there were strange interviews, in +store-rooms, etc. (no one has a place to call their +own!), and everyone "explained" and "gave +evidence" and tried to "put matters straight."</p> + +<p>It rains every day. This may be a "providence," +as the floods are keeping the Germans away. The +sound of constant rain on the window-panes is a +little melancholy. Let us pray that in singleness +and cheerfulness of heart we may do our little bit +of work.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">EXPEDITION TO DUNKIRK</div> + +<p><i>23 December.</i>—Yesterday I motored into Dunkirk, +and did a lot of shopping. By accident our +motor-car went back to Furnes without me, and +there was not a bed to be had in Dunkirk! After +many vicissitudes I met Captain Whiting, who +gave up his room in his own house to me, and +slept at the club. I was in clover for once, and +nearly wept when I found my boots brushed +and hot water at my door. It was so like home +again.</p> + +<p>I was leaving the station to-day when shelling +began again. One shell dropped not far behind +the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> bridge, which I had just crossed, and wrecked +a house. Another fell into a boat on the canal and +wounded the occupants badly. I went to tell the +Belgian Sisters not to go down to the station, and +I lunched at their house, and then went home till +the evening work began. People are always telling +one that danger is now over—a hidden gun has +been discovered and captured, and there will +be no more shelling. Quel blague! The shelling +goes on just the same whether hidden guns are +captured or not.</p> + +<p>I can't say at present when I shall get home, +because no one ever knows what is going to happen. +I don't quite know who would take my place at the +soup-kitchen if I were to leave.</p> + +<p><i>25 December.</i>—My Christmas Day began at +midnight, when I walked home through the +moonlit empty streets of Furnes. At 2 a.m. the +guns began to roar, and roared all night. They +say the Allies are making an attack.</p> + +<p>I got up early and went to church in the untidy +school-room at the hospital, which is called the +nurses' sitting-room. Mr. Streatfield had arranged +a little altar, which was quite nice, and had set +some chairs in an orderly row. As much as in him +lay—from the altar linen to the white artificial +flowers in the vases—all was as decent as could be +and there were candles and a cross. We were +quite a small congregation, but another service had +been held earlier, and the wounded heard Mass in +their ward at 6 a.m. The priests put up an +altar there, and I believe the singing was excellent. +Inside we prayed for peace, and outside the guns +went<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> on firing. Prince Alexander of Teck came to +our service—a big soldierly figure in the bare +room.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">CHRISTMAS IN BELGIUM</div> + +<p>After breakfast I went to the soup-kitchen at +the station, as usual, then home—<i>i.e.</i>, to the +hospital to lunch. At 3.15 came a sort of evensong +with hymns, and then we went to the civil +hospital, where there was a Christmas-tree for all +the Belgian refugee children. Anything more +touching I never saw, and to be with them made +one blind with tears. One tiny mite, with her +head in bandages, and a little black shawl on, was +introduced to me as "une blessée, madame." +Another little boy in the hospital is always spoken +of gravely as "the civilian."</p> + +<p>Every man, woman, and child got a treat or a +present or a good dinner. The wounded had +turkey, and all they could eat, and the children got +toys and sweets off the tree. I suppose these +children are not much accustomed to presents, for +their delight was almost too much for them. I +have never seen such excitement! Poor mites! +without homes or money, and with their relations +often lost—yet little boys were gibbering over +their toys, and little girls clung to big parcels, and +squeaked dolls or blew trumpets. The bigger +children had rather good voices, and all sang our +National Anthem in English. "God save our +nobbler King"—the accent was quaint, but the +children sang lustily.</p> + +<p>We had finished, and were waiting for our own +Christmas dinner when shells began to fly. One +came whizzing past Mr. Streatfield's store-room as +I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> stood there with him. The next minute a little +child in floods of tears came in, grasping her +mother's bag, to say "Maman" had had her arm +blown off. The child herself was covered with dust +and dirt, and in the streets people were sheltering +in doorways, and taking little runs for safety as +soon as a shell had finished bursting. The bombardment +lasted about an hour, and we all waited in +the kitchen and listened to it. At such times, +when everyone is rather strung up, someone always +and continually lets things fall. A nun clattered +down a pail, and Maurice the cook seemed to fling +saucepan-lids on the floor.</p> + +<p>About 8.15 the bombardment ceased, and we +went in to a cheery dinner—soup, turkey, and +plum-pudding, with crackers and speeches. I +believe no one would have guessed we had been a +bit "on the stretch."</p> + +<p>At 9.30 I went to the station. It was very +melancholy. No one was there but myself. The +fires were out, or smoking badly. Everyone had +been scared to death by the shells, and talked of +nothing else, whereas shells should be forgotten +directly. I got things in order as soon as I could +and the wounded in the train got their hot soup +and coffee as usual, which was a satisfaction. Then +I came home alone at midnight—keeping as near +the houses as I could because of possible shells—and +so to bed, very cold, and rather too inclined to +think about home.</p> + +<p><i>26 December.</i>—Went to the station. Oddly +enough, very few wounded were there, so I came +away, and had my first day at home. I got a little +oil-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>stove put in my room, wrote letters, tidied up, +and thoroughly enjoyed myself.</p> + +<p>A Taube came over and hovered above Furnes, +and dropped bombs. I was at the Villa, and the +family of Joos and I stood and watched it, and a +nasty dangerous moth it looked away up in the sky. +Presently it came over our house, so we went down +to the kitchen. A few shots were fired, but the +Taube was far too high up to be hit. Max, the +Joos' cousin, went out and "tirait," to the admiration +of the women-kind, and then, of course, +"Papa" had to have a try. The two men, with +their little gun and their talk and gesticulations, lent +a queer touch of comic opera to the scene. The +garden was so small, the men in their little hats +were so suggestive of the "broken English" scene +on the stage, that one could only stand and laugh.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">A BELGIAN DINNER PARTY</div> + +<p>The Joos family are quite a study, and so kind. +On Christmas Eve I dined with them, and they +gave me the best of all they had. There was +a pheasant, which someone had given the doctor (I +fancy he is a very small practitioner amongst the +poor people); surely, never did a bird give more +pleasure. I had known of its arrival days before +by seeing Fernande, the little girl, decorated with +feathers from its tail. Then the good papa must +be decorated also, and these small jokes delighted +the whole family to the point of ecstasy.</p> + +<p>On Christmas Eve Monsieur Max conceived the +splendid joke, carefully arranged, of presenting +Madame Joos—who is young and pretty—and the +doctor with two parcels, which on being opened +contained the child's umbrella and a toy gun. +There<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> wasn't even a comic address on the parcels; +but Yrma, the servant, carefully trained for the +part, brought them in in fits of delight, and all the +family laughed with joy till the tears ran down +their cheeks. As they wiped their eyes, they admitted +they were sick with laughter. After supper +we had the pianola, played by papa; and I must say +that, when one can get nothing else, this instrument +gives a great deal of pleasure. One gets a sort of +ache for music which is just as bad as being hungry.</p> + +<p><i>27 December.</i>—Bad, bad weather again. It has +rained almost continuously for five weeks. Yesterday +it snowed. Always the wind blows, and <i>something</i> +lashes itself against the panes. One can't +leave the windows open, as the rooms get flooded. +It is amazingly cold o' nights, I can't sleep for +the cold.</p> + +<p>We have some funny incidents at the station +sometimes. A particularly amusing one occurred +the other day, when three ladies in knickerbockers +and khaki and badges appeared at our soup-kitchen +door and announced they were "on duty" there till +6 o'clock. I was not there, but the scene that +followed has been described to me, and has often +made me laugh.</p> + +<p>It seems the ladies never got further than the +door! Some people might have been firm in the +"Too sorry! Come-some-other-day-when-we-are-not-so-busy" +sort of way. Not so Miss ——. In +more primitive times she would probably have gone +for the visitors with a broom, but her tongue is just +as rough as the hardest besom, and from their dress +("skipping over soldiers' faces with breeches on, +indeed!")<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> to their corps there was very little left of +them.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">OUR TROUBLE WITH SPIES</div> + +<p>It wasn't really from the dog-in-the-manger +spirit that the little woman acted. The fact is that +Belgians and French run the station together, and +they are all agreed on one thing, which is, that no +one but an authorised and registered person is to +come within its doors. Heaven knows the trouble +there has been with spies, and this rule is absolutely +necessary.</p> + +<p>Two Red Cross khaki-clad men have been driving +everywhere in Furnes, and have been found to +be Germans. Had we permitted itinerant workers, +the authorities gave notice that the kitchen would +have to close.</p> + +<p>In the evening, when I went to the station, +another knickerbockered lady sat there! I told her +our difficulties, but allowed her to do a little work +rather than hurt her feelings. The following day +Miss —— engaged in deadly conflict with the lady +who had sent our unwelcome visitors. Over the +scene we will draw a veil, but we never saw the +knickerbockered ladies again!</p> + +<p><i>31 December, 1914.</i>—The last day of this bad +old year. I feel quite thankful for the summer I +had at the Grange. It has been something to look +back upon all the time I have been here; the +pergolas of pink roses, the sleepy fields, the dear +people who used to come and stay with me, and all +the fun and pleasure of it, help one a good deal now.</p> + +<p>Yesterday was a fine day in the middle of weeks +of rain. When I came down to breakfast in the +Joos' little kitchen I remarked, of course, on the +beauty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> of the weather. "What a day for Taubes!" +said Monsieur Max, looking up at the clear blue +sky. Before I had left home there was a shell +in a street close by, and one heard that already +these horrible birds of prey had been at work, and +had thrown two bombs, which destroyed two houses +in the Rue des Trèfles. The pigeons that circle +round the old buildings in Furnes always seem to +see the Taubes first, as if they knew by sight their +hateful brothers. They flutter disturbed from roof +and turret, and then, with a flash of white wings, +they fly far away. I often wish I had wings when +I see them.</p> + +<p>I went to the station, and then to the hospital for +slippers for some wounded men. Five aeroplanes +were overhead—Allies' and German—and there was +a good deal of firing. I was struck by the fact that +the night before I had seen <i>exactly</i> this scene in a +dream. Second sight always gives me much to +think about. The inevitableness of things seems +much accentuated by it. In my dream I stood by +the other people in the yard looking at the war in +the air, and watching the circling aeroplanes and the +bursts of smoke.</p> + +<p>At the station there was a nasty feeling that +something was going to happen. The Taubes +wheeled about and hovered in the blue. I went to +the hospital for lunch, and afterwards I asked Mr. +Bevan to come to the station to look at some +wounded whose dressings had not been touched for +too long. He said he would come in half an hour, +so I said I wouldn't wait, as he knew exactly where +to find the men, and I came back to the Villa for +my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> rest. As I walked home I heard that the station +had been shelled, and I met one of the Belgian +Sisters and told her not to go on duty till after +dark, but I had no idea till evening came of what +had happened. Ten shells burst in or round the +station. Men, women, and children were killed. +They tell me that limbs were flying, and a French +chauffeur, who came on here, picked up a man's +leg in the street. Mr. Bevan sent up word to +say none of us was to go to the station for the +present.</p> + +<p>At Dunkirk seven Taubes flew overhead and +dropped bombs, killing twenty-eight people. At +Pervyse shells are coming in every day. I can't help +wondering when we shall clear out of this. If the +bridges are destroyed it will be difficult to get away. +The weather has turned very wet again this evening. +We have only had two or three fine days in as many +months. The wind howls day and night, and the +place is so well known for it that "vent de Furnes" +is a byword. No doubt the floods protect us, so one +mustn't grumble at a sore throat.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">SHELLS AT FURNES</div> + +<p><i>1 January.</i>—The station was shelled again to-day. +Three houses were destroyed, and there was +one person killed and a good many more were +wounded. A rumour got about that the +Germans had promised 500 shells in Furnes on +New Year's Day.</p> + +<p>In the evening I went down to the station, and I +was evidently not expected. Not a thing was ready +for the wounded. The man in charge had let all +three fires out, and he and about seven soldiers +(mostly drunk) were making merry in the kitchen. +None<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> of them would budge, and I was glad I had +young Mr. Findlay with me, as he was in uniform, +and helped to get things straight. But these +French seem to have very little discipline, and even +when the military doctors came in the men did +nothing but argue with them. It was amazing to +hear them. One night a soldier, who is always drunk, +was lying on a brancard in the doctor's own room, +and no one seemed to mind.</p> + +<p><i>3 January, Sunday.</i>—I have had my usual rest +and hot bath. I find I never want a holiday if I +may have my Sundays. I spent a lazy afternoon in +Miss Scott's room, she being ill, then went to +Mr. Streatfield's service, dinner, and the station. +A new officer was on duty there, and was introduced +to the kitchen. He said, "Les anglais, of +course. No one else ever does anything for anybody."</p> + +<p>I believe this is very nearly the case. God +knows, we are full of faults, but the superiority of +the British race to any other that I know is a +matter of deep conviction with me, and it is founded, +I think, on wide experience.</p> + +<p><i>6 January.</i>—I went to Adinkerke two days ago +to establish a soup-kitchen there, as they say that +Furnes station is too dangerous. We have been +given a nice little waiting-room and a stove. We +heard to-day that the station-master at Furnes has +been signalling to the enemy, so that is why we +have been shelled so punctually. His daughter is +engaged to a German. Two of our hospital people +noticed that before each bombardment a blue light +appeared to flash on the sky. They reported the +matter,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> with the result that the signals were discovered.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">THE SHELLING GETS WORSE</div> + +<p>There has been a lot of shelling again to-day, and +several houses are destroyed. A child of two years +is in our hospital with one leg blown off and the +other broken. One only hears people spoken of +as, "the man with the abdominal trouble," or "the +one shot through the lungs."</p> + +<p>Children know the different aeroplanes by sight, +and one little girl, when I ask her for news, gives +me a list of the "obus" that have arrived, and which +have "s'éclaté," and which have not. One can see +that she despises those which "ne s'éclatent pas." +One says "Bon soir, pas des obus," as in English +one says, "Good-night, sleep well."</p> + +<p><i>10 January.</i>—Prince Alexander of Teck dined +at the hospital last night, and we had a great spread. +Madame Sindici did wonders, and there were hired +plates and finger-bowls, and food galore! We felt +real swells. An old General—the head of the +Army Medical Corps—gave me the most grateful +thanks for serving the soldiers. It was gracefully +and delightfully done.</p> + +<p>I am going home for a week's holiday.</p> + +<p><i>14 January.</i>—I went home <i>via</i> Calais. Mr. Bevan +and Mr. Morgan took me there. It was a fine day +and I felt happy for once, that is, for once out here.</p> + +<p>Some people enjoy this war. I think it is far the +worst time, except one, I ever spent. Perhaps I +have seen more suffering than most people. A +doctor sees a hospital, and a nurse sees a ward of +sick and wounded, but I see them by the hundred +passing before me in an endless train all day. I +can<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> make none of them really better. I feed +them, and they pass on.</p> + +<p>One reviews one's life a little as one departs. +Always I shall remember Furnes as a place of wet +streets and long dark evenings, with gales blowing, +and as a place where I have been always alone. I +have not once all this time exchanged a thought +with anyone. I have lived in a very damp attic, +and talked French to some kind middle-class people, +and I have walked a mile for every meal I have +had. So I shall always think of Furnes as a wet, +dark place, and of myself with a lantern trudging +about its mean streets.</p> + + + +<hr class="full" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I_IV" id="CHAPTER_I_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV +<span class="totoc"><a href="#CONTENTS">ToC</a></span></h2> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> + +<h3>WORKING UNDER DIFFICULTIES</h3> + +<p>I have not written my diary for some weeks. I +went home to England and stayed at Rayleigh +House. On my way home I met Mr. F. Ware, +who told me submarines were about. As I had +but just left a much-shelled town, I think he might +have held his peace. The usual warm welcome at +Rayleigh House, with Mary there to meet me, and +Emily Strutt.</p> + +<p>I wasn't very tired when I first arrived, but +fatigue came out on me like a rash afterwards. I +got more tired every day, and ended by having a +sort of breakdown. This rather spoilt my holiday, +but it was very nice seeing people again. It was +difficult, I found, to accommodate myself to small +things, and one was amazed to find people still +driving serenely in closed broughams. It was like +going back to live on earth again after being in +rather a horrible other world. I went to my own +house and enjoyed the very smell of the place. +My little library and an hour or two spent there +made my happiest time. Different people asked +me to things, but I wasn't up to going out, and the +weather was amazingly bad.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> +I was to have gone back to work on the Thursday +week after I arrived home, but I got a telegram +from Madame Sindici saying Furnes was being +shelled, and the hospital, etc., was to be evacuated. +Dr. Perrin, who was to have taken me back, had to +start immediately without me. It was difficult to +get news, and hearing nothing I went over on +Saturday, January 23rd, as I had left Mrs. Clitheroe +in charge of my soup-kitchen, and thought I had +better do the burning deck act and get back to it.</p> + +<p>Mr. Bevan and Mr. Morgan met me at Calais, +and told me to wait at Dunkirk, as everyone was +quitting Furnes. One of our poor nurses was +killed, and the Joos' little house was much damaged. +I stopped at Mrs. Clitheroe's flat, very glad to be +ill in peace after my seedy condition in London and +a bad crossing. Rested quietly all Sunday in the +flat by myself. It is an empty, bare little place, +with neither carpets nor curtains, but there is +something home-like about it, the result, I think, +of having an open fire in one room.</p> + +<p>On Monday, the 25th, I went back to work at +Adinkerke station, to which place our soup-kitchen +has been moved. I got a warm welcome from the +Belgian Sisters. It is very difficult doing the +station work from Dunkirk, as it is 16 kilometres +from Adinkerke; but the place itself is nice, and I +just have to trust to lifts. I fill my pockets with +cigarettes and go to the "sortie de la ville," and +just wait for something to pass—and some queer, +bumpy rides I get. Still, the soldiers who drive me +are delightful, and the cigarettes are always taken +as good pay.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> +One day I went and spent the night at +Hoogstadt, where the hospital now is, and that I +much enjoyed. Dr. Perrin gave up his little room +to me, and the nurses and staff were all so full of +welcome and pleasant speeches.</p> + +<p>On Monday, February 8th, I went out to La +Panne to start living in the hotel there; but I was +really dreadfully seedy, and suffered so much that +I had to return to the flat at Dunkirk again to be +nursed. My day at La Panne was therefore very +sad, as I nearly perished with cold, and felt so ill. +Not a soul came near me, and I wished I could be +a Belgian refugee, when I might have had a little +attention from somebody.</p> + +<p>On Tuesday, February 9th, a Belgian officer +came into Adinkerke station, claimed our kitchen +as a bureau, and turned us out on to the platform. +I am trying to get General Millis to interfere; +but, indeed, the rudeness of this man's act makes +one furious.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">ILLNESS AT DUNKIRK</div> + +<p><i>14 February.</i>—I have been laid up for some +days at the flat at Dunkirk. It is amazing to +realise that this place should be one's present idea +of comfort. It has no carpets, no curtains, not a +blind that will pull up or down, and rather dirty +floors, yet it is so much more comfortable than +anything I have had yet that I am too thankful to +be here. There is a gas-ring in the kitchen, on +which it is possible to cook our food, and there are +shops where things can be got.</p> + +<p>Mr. Strickland and I are both laid up here, and +Miss Logan nurses us devotedly. Our joy is +having a sitting-room with a fire in it. Was there +ever<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> anything half so good as that fire, or half so +homely, half so warm or so much one's own? I lie +on three chairs in front of it, and headache and +cold and throat are almost forgotten. The wind +howls, the sea roars, and aeroplanes fly overhead, +but at least we have our fire and are at home.</p> + +<p><i>17 February.</i>—Another cold, wet day. I am +alone in the flat with a "femme de ménage" to look +after me. A doctor comes to see me sometimes. +Miss Logan and Mr. Strickland left this morning. +There was a tempest of rain, and I couldn't think +of being moved. They were sweet and kind, and +felt bad about leaving me; but I am just loving +being left alone with some books and my fire.</p> + +<p>I have been lying in bed correcting proofs. Oh, +the joy of being at one's own work again! Just to +see print is a pleasure. I believe I have forgotten +all I ever knew before the war began. A magazine +article comes to me like a language I have almost +forgotten.</p> + +<p><i>18 February.</i>—This is the day that German +"piracy" is supposed to begin. We heard a great +explosion early this morning, but it was only a +mine that had been found on the shore being blown +up. The sailors' aeroplane corps is opposite us, +and we see Commander Samson and others flying +off in the morning and whirling back at night, and +then we hear there has been a raid somewhere. +When a Taube comes over here the sailors fire at +it with a gun just opposite us, and then tell us they +only do it to give us flower-vases—<i>i.e.</i>, empty shell-cases!</p> + +<div class="sidenote">SOME STORIES OF THE WAR</div> + +<p>Mr. Holland came here to-day, and told me +some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> humorous sides of his experiences with +ambulances. One man from the Church Army +marched in, and said: "I am a Christian and you +are not. I come here for petrol, and I ask it, not +for the Red Cross, but in the name of Christ." +Another man came dashing in, and said: "I want +to go to Poperinghe. I was once there before, and +the mud was beastly. Send someone with me."</p> + +<p>My own latest experience was with an American +woman of awful vulgarity. I asked her if she was +busy, like everyone else in this place, and she said:</p> + +<p>"No. I was suffering from a nervous breakdown, +so I came out here. What is your <i>war</i> is +my <i>peace</i>, and I now sleep like a baby."</p> + +<p>I want adjectives! How is one to describe the +people who come for one brief visit to the station +or hospital with an intense conviction that they and +they only feel the suffering or even notice the +wants of the men. Some are good workers. +Others I call "This-poor-fellow-has-had-none." +Nurses may have been up all night, doctors may be +worked off their feet, seven hundred men may have +passed through the station, all wounded and all +fed, but when our visitors arrive they discover that +"This poor fellow has had none," and firmly, and +with a high sense of duty and of their own +efficiency, they make the thing known.</p> + +<p>No one else has heard a man shouting for water; +no one else knows that a man wants soup. The +man may have appendicitis, or colitis, or pancreatitis, +or he may have been shot through the lungs +or the abdomen. It doesn't matter. The casual +visitor knows he has been neglected, and she says +so,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> and quite indiscriminately she fills everyone up +with soup. Only she is tender-hearted. Only she +could never really be hardened by being a nurse. +She seizes a little cup, stoops over a man gracefully, +and raises his head. Then she wants things passed +to her, and someone must help her, and someone +must listen to what she has to say. She feeds one +man in half an hour, and goes away horrified at the +way things are done. Fortunately these people +never stay for long.</p> + +<p>Then there is another. She can't understand +why our ships should be blown up or why trenches +should be taken. In her own mind she proves +herself of good sound intelligence and a member of +the Empire who won't be bamboozled, when she +says firmly and with heat, "Why don't we <i>do</i> +something?" She would like to scold a few +Generals and Admirals, and she says she believes +the Germans are much cleverer than ourselves. +This last taunt she hopes will make people "<i>do</i> +something." It stings, she thinks.</p> + +<p>I could write a good deal about this "solitary +winter," but I have not had time either to write +or to read. I think something inside me has stood +still or died during this war.</p> + +<p><i>21 February, Sunday.</i>—The Munro corps has +swooped down in its usual hurry to distribute +letters, and to say that someone is waiting down +below and they can't stop. They eat a hasty +sardine, drink a cup of coffee, and are off!</p> + +<p>To-day I have made this flat tidy at last, and +have had it cleaned and scrubbed. I have thrown +away old papers and empty boxes, and can sit +down<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> and sniff contentedly. No convoy-ite sees +the difference!</p> + +<div class="sidenote">THE COMMUNAL LIFE</div> + +<p>I think I have learnt every phase of muddle and +makeshift this winter, but chiefly have I learnt the +value of the Biblical recommendation to put +candles on candlesticks. In the "convoi Munro" +I find them in bottles, on the lids of mustard-tins, +in metal cups, or in the necks of bedroom carafes. +Never is the wax removed. Where it drips there +it remains. Where matches fall there they lie. +The stumps of cigarettes grace even the insides of +flower-pots, knives are wiped on bread, and overcoats +of enormous weight (khaki in colour, with a +red cross on the arm) are hung on inefficient loose +nails, and fall down. Towels are always scarce; +but then, they serve as dinner-napkins, pocket-handkerchiefs, +and even as pillow-cases, so no +wonder we are a little short of them. There is no +necessity for muddle. There never is any necessity +for it.</p> + +<p>The communal life is a mistake. I wonder if +Christ got bored with it.</p> + +<p>On Sundays I always want to rest, and something +always makes me write. The attack comes on +quite early. It is irresistible. At last I am a little +happy after these dreary months, and it is only +because I can think a little, and because the days +are not quite so dark. I think the nights have +been longer here than I ever knew them. No +doubt it is the bad weather and the small amount +of light indoors that make the days seem so short.</p> + +<p>I am going back to-morrow to the station, with +its train-loads of wounded men. I <i>want</i> to go, and +to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> give them soup and comforts and cigarettes, +but just ten days' illness and idleness have "balmed +my soul."</p> + +<p><i>22 February.</i>—Waited all day for a car to come +and fetch me away. It was dull work as I could +never leave the flat, and all my things were packed +up, and there was no coal.</p> + +<p><i>23 February.</i>—Waited again all day. I got +very tired of standing by the window looking out +on a strip of beach at the bottom of the street, and +on the people passing to and fro. Then I went +down to the dock to try and get a car there, but +the new police regulations made it impossible to +cross the bridge. I went to the airmen opposite. +No luck.</p> + +<p>There is a peculiar brutality which seems to +possess everyone out here during the war. I find +it nearly everywhere, and it entails a good deal of +unnecessary suffering. Always I am reminded of +birds on a small ledge pushing each other into the +sea. The big bird that pushes another one over +goes to sleep comfortably.</p> + +<p>I remember one evening at Dunkirk when we +couldn't get rooms or food because the landlady of +the hotel had lost all her servants. The staff at the +---- gave me a meal, but there was a queer want +of courtesy about it. I said that anything would +do for my supper, and I went to help get it myself. +I spied a roll of cold veal on a shelf, and said +helpfully that that would do splendidly, but the +answer was: "Yes, but I believe that is for our +next meal." However, in the end I got a scrap, +consisting mostly of green stuffing.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> +"But when thou art bidden, go and sit down in +the lowest room"—ah, my dear Lord, in this world +one may certainly take the lowest place, and keep +it. It is only the great men who say, "Friend, +come up higher."</p> + +<p>"You can't have it," is on everyone's lips, and a +general sense of bustle goes with the brutality. +"You can't come here," "We won't have her," are +quite common phrases. God help us, how nasty +we all are!</p> + +<p>I find one can score pretty heavily nowadays by +being a "psychologist." All the most disagreeable +people I know are psychologists, notably ——, who +breaks his promises and throws all his friends to +the wolves, but who can still explain everything +in his sapient way by saying he is a psychologist.</p> + +<p>One thing I hope—that no one will ever call me +"highly strung." I wish good old-fashioned bad +temper was still the word for highly strung and +nervy people.</p> + +<p>... I am longing for beautiful things, music, +flowers, fine thoughts....</p> + +<div class="sidenote">LA PANNE</div> + +<p><i>La Panne. 25 February.</i>—At last I have +succeeded in getting away from Dunkirk! The +Duchess of Sutherland brought me here in her car. +Last night I dined with Mrs. Clitheroe. She was +less bustled than usual, and I enjoyed a chat with +her as we walked home through the cold white mist +which enshrouded La Panne.</p> + +<p>This long war has settled down to a long wait. +Little goes on except desultory shelling, with its +occasional quite useless victims. At the station we +have mostly "malades" and "éclopés"; in the +trenches<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> the soldiers stand in the bitter cold, and +occasionally are moved out by shells falling by +chance amongst them. The men who are capable +of big things wait and do nothing.</p> + +<p>If it was not for the wounded how would one +stand the life here? A man looks up patiently, +dumbly, out of brown eyes, and one is able to go on +again.</p> + +<p><i>La Panne. 27 February</i>.—I have been staying +for three nights at the Kursaal Hotel, but my room +was wanted and I had to turn out, so I packed my +things and came down to the Villa les Chrysanthèmes, +and shared Mrs. Clitheroe's room for a +night. In the morning all our party packed up and +left to go to Furnes, and I took on these rooms. +I may be turned out any minute for "le militaire," +but meanwhile I am very comfortable.</p> + +<p>The heroic element (a real thing among us) takes +queer forms sometimes. "No sheets, of course," is +what one hears on every side, and to eat a meal +standing and with dirty hands is to "play the +game." Maxine Elliott said, "The nervous exhaustion +attendant upon discomfort hinders work," +and she "does herself" very well, as also do all the +men of the regular forces. But volunteer corps—especially +women—are heroically bent on being +uncomfortable. In a way they like it, and they +eat strange meals in large quantities, and feel that +this is war.</p> + +<p>Lord Leigh took me into Dunkirk in his +car to-day, and I managed to get lots of vegetables +for the soup-kitchen, and several other +things I wanted. A lift is everything at this time, +when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> one can "command" nothing. If one might +for once feel that by paying a fare, however high, +one could ensure having something—a railway +journey, a motor-car, or even a bed! My work +isn't so heavy at the kitchen now, and the hours +are not so long, so I hope to do some work of a +literary nature.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center"><i>To Miss Macnaughtan's Sisters.</i></p> + +<p class="lh_ind6"><span class="smcap">Villa les Chrysanthèmes</span></p> +<p class="lh_ind4"><span class="smcap">La Panne, Belgium,</span></p> +<p class="lh_ind2"><i>Sunday, 28 February.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Family,</span></p> + +<div class="sidenote">LA PANNE</div> + +<p>It is so long since I wrote a decently long +letter that I think I must write to you all, to thank +you for yours, and to give you what news there is +of myself.</p> + +<p>Of war news there is none. The long war is +now a long wait, and the huge expense still goes +on, while we lock horns with our foes and just +sway backwards and forwards a little, and this, as +you know, we have done for weeks past. Every +day at the station there is a little stream of men +with heads or limbs bandaged, and our work goes +on as before, although it is not on quite the same +lines now. I used to make every drop of the soup +myself, and give it out all down the train. Now +we have a receiving-room for the wounded, where +they stay all day, and we feed them four times, and +then they are sent away. The whole thing is more +military than it used to be, the result, I think, of +officers not having much to do, and with a passion +for writing out rules and regulations with a nice +broad pen. Two orderlies help in the kitchen, the +soup<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> is "inspected," and what used to be "la +cuisine de la dame écossaise" is not so much a +charitable institution as it was.</p> + +<p>One sees a good deal of that sort of thing during +this war. Women have been seeing what is +wanted, and have done the work themselves at +really enormous difficulty, and in the face of +opposition, and when it is a going concern it is +taken over and, in many cases, the women are +turned out. This was the case at Dunkirk station, +which was known everywhere as "the shambles." +I myself tried to get the wounded attended to, and +I went there with a naval doctor, who told me that +he couldn't uncover a single wound because of the +awful atmosphere (it was quite common to see +15,000 men lying on straw). One woman took +this matter in hand, purged the place, got mattresses, +clean straw, stoves, etc., and when all was in order +the voice of authority turned her out.</p> + +<p>This long waiting is being much more trying for +people than actual fighting. In every corps the +old heroic outlook is a little bit fogged by petty +things. One sees the result of it in some wrangling +and jealousy, but this will soon be forgotten when +fighting with all its realities begins again.</p> + +<p>I think Britain on the subject of "piracy" is +about as fine as anything in her history. Her +determination to ignore ultimatums and threats is +really quite funny, and English people still put out +in boats as they have always done, and are quite +undismayed. Our own people here continue to travel +by sea, as if submarines were rather a joke, and +when going over to England on some small and +useless<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> little job they say apologetically, "Of +course, I wouldn't go if I hadn't got to." The +fact is, if there is any danger about they have to +be in it.</p> + +<p>Some of our own corps have gone back to +Furnes—I believe because it is being shelled. The +rest of us are at La Panne, a cold seaside place +amongst the dunes. In summer-time I fancy it is +fashionable, but now it contains nothing but +soldiers. They are quartered everywhere, and one +never knows how long one will be able to keep a +room. The station is at Adinkerke, where I have +my kitchen. It is about two miles from La +Panne, and it also is crammed with soldiers. There +seems to be no attempt at sanitation anywhere.</p> + +<p>I wish I had more interesting news to tell you, +but I am at my station all day, and if there is +anything to hear (which I doubt) I do not hear it.</p> + +<p>There is a barge on the canal at Adinkerke which +is our only excitement. It is the property of +Maxine Elliott, Lady Drogheda, and Miss Close, +and to go to tea with them is everyone's ambition. +The barge is crammed with things for Belgian +refugees, and Maxine told me that the cargo +represents "nearer £10,000 than £5,000." It is +piled with flour in sacks, clothing, medical comforts, +etc. The work is good.</p> + +<p>I am sending home some long pins like nails. +They are called "Silent Death," and are dropped +from German aeroplanes. Boys pick them up and +give them to us in exchange for cigarettes.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">MRS. PERCIVAL'S SLIPPERS</div> + +<p>I want to tell Tabby how immensely pleased +everyone is with her slippers. The men who have +stood<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> long in the trenches are in agonies of frost-bite +and rheumatism, and now that I can give them +these slippers when they arrive at the station, they +are able to take off their wet boots caked with mud.</p> + +<p>If J. would send me another little packet of +groceries I should love it. Just what can come by +post. That Benger's Food of hers nearly saved +my life when I was ill at Dunkirk. What I should +like better than anything is a few good magazines +and books. I get <i>Punch</i> and the <i>Spectator</i>, but I +want the <i>English Review</i> and the <i>National</i>, and +perhaps a <i>Hibbert</i>. I enclose ten shillings for +these. What is being read? Stephen Coleridge +seems to have brought out an interesting collection, +but I can't remember its name. I wonder if any +notice will be taken of "They who Question." +The reviews speak well of the Canadian book.</p> + +<p>Love to you all, and tell Alan how much I +think of him. Bless you, my dears. Write often.</p> + +<p class="lf_sal">Yours as ever,</p> +<p class="lf_sig"><span class="smcap">Sarah.</span></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><i>1 March.</i>—Woe betide the person who owns +anything out here: he is instantly deprived of it. +"Pinching" is proverbial, and people have taken +to carrying as many of their possessions as possible +on their person, with the result that they are the +strangest shapes and sizes. Still, one hopes the +goods are valuable until one discovers that they +generally consist of the following items: a watch +that doesn't go, a fountain-pen that is never filled, +an electric torch that won't light, a much-used +hanky, an empty iodine bottle, and a scarf.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> +<i>5 March.</i>—I went as usual to-day to the muddy +station and distributed soup, which I no longer +make now that the station has become militarised. +My hours are from 12 noon to 5 o'clock. This +includes the men's dinner-hour and the washing of +the kitchen. They eat and smoke when I am +there, and loll on the little bench. They are +Belgians and I am English, and one is always being +warned that the English can't be too careful! We +are entertaining 40,000 Belgians in England, but it +must be done "carefully."</p> + +<div class="sidenote">THIEVING AND GIVING</div> + +<p>It is a great bore out here that everything is +stolen. One can hardly lay a thing down for an +instant that it isn't taken. To-day my Thermos +flask in a leather case, in which I carry my lunch, +was prigged from the kitchen. Things like metal +cups are stolen by the score, and everyone begs! +Even well-to-do people are always asking for something, +and they simply whine for tobacco. The +fact is, I think, the English are giving things away +with their usual generosity and want of discrimination, +and—it is a horrid word—they are already +pauperising a nice lot of people. I can't help +thinking that the thing is being run on wrong +lines. We should have given or lent what was +necessary to the Belgian Government, and let them +undertake to provide for soldiers and refugees +through the proper channels. No lasting good ever +came of gifts—every child begs for cigarettes, and +they begin smoking at five years old.</p> + +<p>I often think of our poor at home, and wish I +had a few sacks full of things for them! I have +not myself come across any instances of poverty +nearly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> as bad as I have seen in England. I understand +from Dr. Joos and other Belgians who know +about these things that there is still a good deal of +money tucked away in this country. I hope there +is, and we all want to help the Belgians over a bad +time, but it would be better and more dignified for +them to get it through their own Government.</p> + +<p>I had tea with Lady Bagot the other day, and +afterwards I had a chat with Prince Francis at the +English Mission. Another afternoon I went down +to the Kursaal Hotel for tea. The stuffy sitting-room +there is always filled with knickerbockered, +leather-coated ladies and with officers in dark blue +uniform, who talk loudly and pat the barmaid's +cheeks. She seems to expect it; it is almost +etiquette. A cup of bad tea, some German trophies +examined and discussed, and then I came away +with a "British" longing for skirts for my ladies, +and for something graceful and (odious word) +dainty about them. Yesterday evening Lady +Bagot dined with me. This Villa is the only +comfortable place I have been in since the war +began: it makes an amazing difference to my +health.</p> + +<p>It is odd to have to admit that one has hardly +ever been unhappy for a long time before this war. +The year my brother died, the year one went +through a tragedy, the year of deadly dullness in +the country—but now it isn't so much a personal +matter. War and the sound of guns, and the sense +of destruction and death abroad, the solitude of it, +and the disappointing people! Oh, and the poor +wounded—the poor, smelly, dirty wounded, whom +one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> sees all day, and for whom one just sticks this +out.</p> + +<p>I have only twice been for a drive out here, and +I have not seen a single place of interest, nor, +indeed, a single interesting person connected with +the war. That, I suppose, is the result of being a +"cuisinière!" It is rather strange to me, because +for a very long time I always seem to have had the +best of things. To-day I hear of this General or +that Secretary, or this great personage or that +important functionary, but the only people whom +I see are three little Sisters and two Belgian cooks.</p> + +<p>To give up work seems to me a little like +divorcing a husband. There is a feeling of failure +about it, and the sense that one is giving up what +one has undertaken to do. So, however dull or +tiresome husband or work may be, one mustn't give +them up.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">THE POWER OF THE BIBLE</div> + +<p><i>6 March.</i>—To-day I have been thinking, as I +have often thought, that the real power of the +Bible is that it is a Universal Human Document. +The world is based upon sentiment—<i>i.e.</i>, the +personality of man and his feelings brought to bear +upon facts. It is also the world's dynamic force. +Now, the books of the Bible—especially, perhaps, +the magical, beautiful Psalms—are the most tender +and sentimental (the word has been misused, of +course) that were ever written. They express the +thoughts and feelings of generations of men who +always did express their thoughts and feelings, and +thought no shame of it. And so we northern +people, with our passionate inarticulateness, love to +find ourselves expressed in the old pages.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> +I find in the Gospels one of the few complaints +of Christ. "Have I been so long time with you +and yet hast thou not known me, Philip?" All +one has ever felt is said for one in a phrase, all that +one finds most isolating in the world is put into +one sentence. There is a wan feeling of wonder in +it; "so long," and yet you think that of me! "so +long," and yet such absolute inability to read my +character! "so long," and yet still quite unaware +of my message! The humour of it (to us) lies in +the little side of it! The dear people who "thought +you would like this or dislike that"—the kind +givers of presents even—the little people who shop +for one! The friends who invite one to their queer, +soulless, thin entertainments, with their garish +lights; the people who choose a book for one, who +counsel one, even with importunity, to go to some +play which they are "sure we shall like." "So +long"—they are old friends, and yet they thought +we should like that play or that book! "So long"—and +yet they think one capable of certain acts or +feelings which do not remotely seem to belong to +one! "So long"—and yet they can't even touch +one chord that responds!</p> + +<p>We are always quite alone. The communal life +is the loneliest of all, because "yet thou hast not +known me." The world comes next in loneliness, +but it is <i>big</i>, and with a big soul of its own. The +family life is almost naïve in its misunderstanding—no +one listens, they just wait for pauses....</p> + +<p>... The worship of the "sane mind" has been +a little overdone, I think. The men who are prone +to say of everyone that they "exaggerate a little," +or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> "are morbid," are like weights in a scale—just, +but oh, how heavy!...</p> + +<p>... This war is fine, <i>fine</i>, <span class="smcap">fine</span>! I know it, and +yet I don't get near the fineness except in the pages +of <i>Punch</i>! I see streams of men whose language +(Flemish) I don't speak, holding up protecting +hands to keep people from jostling a poor wounded +limb, and I watch them sleeping heavily, or eating +oranges and smoking cigarettes down to the last +hot stump, but I don't hear of the heroic stands +which I know are made, or catch the volition of it +all. Perhaps only in a voluntary army is such a +thing possible. Our own boys make one's heart +beat, but these poor, dumb, sodden little men, +coming in caked with mud—to be patched up and +sent into a hole in the ground again, are simply +tragic.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">"THE WOMAN'S TOUCH"</div> + +<p><i>7 March.</i>—"The woman's touch." When a +woman has been down on her knees scrubbing for a +week, and washing for another week, a man, returning +and finding his house in order, and vaguely +conscious of a newer and fresher smell about it, +talks quite tenderly of "a woman's touch."...</p> + +<p>... There are some people who never care to +enter a door unless it has "passage interdite" upon +it....</p> + +<p>... The guns are booming heavily this morning. +Nothing seems to correspond. Are men really +falling and dying in agonies quite close to us? +I believe we ought to see less or more—be nearer +the front or further from it. Or is it that nothing +really changes us? Only war pictures and war +letters remain as a fixed blazing standard. The +soldiers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> in the trenches are quite as keen about +sugar in their coffee as we are about tea. No +wonder men have decided that one day we must +put off flesh. It is far too obstrusive....</p> + +<p>... To comfort myself I try to remember that +Wellington took his old nurse with him on all his +campaigns because she was the only person who +washed his stocks properly....</p> + +<p>... Surely the expense of the thing will one day +put a stop to war. We are spending two million +sterling per day, the French certainly as much, the +Germans probably more, and Austria and Russia +much more, in order to keep men most uncomfortably +in unroofed graves, and to send high explosives +into the air, most of which don't hit anything. +Surely, if fighting was (as it is) impossible in this +flooded country in winter, we might have called a +truce and gone home for three months, and trained +and drilled like Christians on Salisbury Plain!...</p> + +<p>... Health—<i>i.e.</i>, bad health—obtrudes itself +tiresomely. I am ill again, and, fortunately, few +people notice it, so I am able to keep on. A +festered hand makes me awkward; and as I wind a +bandage round it and tie it with my teeth, I once +more wish I was a Belgian refugee, as I am sure I +would be interesting, and would get things done +for me!</p> + +<p>A sick Belgian artist, <a class="correction" title="original had "Rotsarzt"; changed to be consistent with later occurrences">M. Rotsartz</a>, is doing a +drawing of me. I go to Lady Bagot's hospital, +where he is laid up, and sit to him in the intervals +of soup. That little wooden hospital is the best +place I have known so far. Lady Bagot is never +bustled or fussy, nor even "busy," and her staff are +excellent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> men, with the "Mark of the Lamb" on +them.</p> + +<p>I gave away a lot of things to-day to a regiment +going into the trenches. The soldiers were delighted +with them.</p> + +<p><i>11 March.</i>—There was a lot of firing near +La Panne to-day, and a British warship was repeatedly +shelled by the Germans from Nieuport. +I went into Dunkirk with Mr. Clegg, and got the +usual hasty shopping done. No one can ever wait +a minute. If one has time to buy a newspaper one +is lucky. The difficulty of communicating with +anyone is great—no telephone—no letters—no +motor-car. I am stranded.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">FRENCH MARINES</div> + +<p>I generally go in the train to Adinkerke with +the French Marines, nice little fellows, with labels +attached to them stating their "case"—not knowing +where they are going or anything else—just +human lives battered about and carted off. I don't +even know where they get the little bit of money +which they always seem able to spend on loud-smelling +oranges and cigarettes. The place is +littered with orange-skins—to-day I saw a long +piece lying in the form of an "S" amid the mud; +and, like a story of a century old, I thought of +ourselves as children throwing orange-skins round +our heads and on to the floor to read the initial of +our future husband, and I seemed to hear mother +say, "'S' for Sammy—Sammy C——," a boy with +thick legs whom we secretly despised!</p> + +<p>I have found a whole new household of "éclopés" +at Adinkerke, who want cigarettes, socks, and shoes +all the time. They are a pitiful lot, with earache, +toothache,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> and all the minor complaints which I +myself find so trying, and they lie about on straw +till they are able to go back to the trenches again.</p> + +<p>The pollard willows between here and Adinkerke +are all being cut down to build trenches. They +were big with buds and the promise of spring.</p> + +<p><i>14 March.</i>—I went to the station yesterday, as +usual. Suddenly I couldn't stand it any more. +Everyone was cleaning. I was getting swept up +with straw and mopped up with dirty cloths. The +kitchen work was done. I ate my lunch in a filthy +little out-building and then I fled. I had to get +into the open air, and I hopped on to an ambulance +and drove to Dunkirk. I had a good deal to do +there getting vegetables, cigarettes, etc., and we +got back late to the station, where I heard the +Queen had paid a visit. Rather bad luck on almost +the only day I have been away.</p> + +<p>I am waiting anxiously to hear if the report of +the new British advance yesterday is true. When +fighting really begins we are going to be in for a +big thing; one dreads it for the sake of the boys +we are going to lose. I want things to start now +just to get them over, but I rather envy the people +who died before this unspeakable war began.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center"><i>To Mrs. Keays-Young.</i></p> + +<p class="lh_ind0"><span class="smcap">Care of Field Post Office, Dunkirk,</span></p> +<p class="lh_ind6"><i>17 March.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My Dearest Baby,</span></p> + +<div class="sidenote">CAPTAIN L. M. B. SALMON</div> + +<p>I have (of course) been getting letters and +parcels very badly lately. I am sending this home +by hand, which is not allowed except on Red Cross +business,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> but this is to ask how Lionel is, so I think +I may send it. My poor Bet! What anxiety for +her! This spring weather is making me long to +be at home, and when people tell me the crocuses +are up in the park!—well, you know London and +the park belong to me! Are the catkins out? We +can get flowers at Dunkirk, but not here.</p> + +<p>Not a word of war news, because that wouldn't +be fair. A shilling wire about Lionel would satisfy +me—just "Better, and Bet well," or something of +that sort.</p> + +<p class="lf_ind6">Always, my dear,</p> +<p class="lf_sal">Your loving,</p> +<p class="lf_sig"><span class="smcap">S. Macnaughtan.</span></p> + +<p>P.S.—Your two letters and Bet's have just come. +To be in touch with you again is <i>very</i> pleasant. I +can't tell you what it was like to sit down to a +pretty, clean breakfast to-day with my letters +beside me. Someone brought them here early.</p> + +<p>I heard to-day that I am going to be decorated +by the King of the Belgians, but don't spread this +broadcast, as anything might happen in war.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><i>20 March.</i>—I met an Englishman belonging to +an armoured car in Dunkirk a couple of days ago. +He told me that the last four days' fighting at La +Bassée has cost the British 13,000 casualties. Three +lines of holes in the ground, and fighting only just +beginning again! Bet's fiancé has been shot through +the head, but is still alive. My God, the horror of +it all! And England is still cheerful, I hear, and +is going to hold race-meetings as usual.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> +At the station to-day I saw a mad man, who +fought and struggled. I thought madmen raved. +This one fought silently, like a man one sees in a +dream. Another soldier shook all over like an old +man. Many were blind.</p> + +<p>"On the whole," someone said to me in England, +"I suppose you are having a good time."</p> + +<p>There is a snowstorm to-day, and it is bitterly +cold. It is very odd how many small "complaints" +seem to attack one. I can't remember the day +out here when I felt well all over.</p> + +<p>Last night some Belgians came in to dinner. It +was like old times trying to get things nice. I +had some flowers and a tablecloth. I believe in +making a contrast with the discomfort I see out +here. We forced open a piano, and had some +perfect music.</p> + +<p><i>21 March.</i>—The weather is brighter to-day; the +sound of firing is more distant; it is possible to think +of other things besides the war.</p> + +<p>Mrs. —— came to the station this morning. I +think she has the most untidy mind I have ever met +with.</p> + +<p>With all our faults, I often wish that there were +more Macnaughtans in the world. Their simple and +plain intelligence gives one something to work upon. +Mrs. —— came and told me to-day that last night +"they laughed till they cried" over her attempt at +making a pudding. I should have cried, only, over +a woman of fifty who wasn't able to make a pudding. +She and —— are twin nebulæ who think themselves +constellations.</p> + +<hr /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center"><i>To Miss Mary King.</i></p> + +<p class="lh_ind0"><span class="smcap">Care of Field Post Office, Dunkirk,</span></p> +<p class="lh_ind6"><i>22 March.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Mary,</span></p> + +<p>My plans, like those of everybody else, are +undecided because of the war. If it is going to stop +in May I should like to stay till the end, but if it +is likely to go on for a long time, I shall come home. +I don't think hot soup (which is my business) can +be wanted much longer, as the warm weather will +be coming.</p> + +<p>I have been asked to take over full charge of a +hospital here. It is a great compliment, but I have +almost decided to refuse. I have other duties, and +I have some important writing to do, as I am busy +with a book on the war. I begin work as early as +ever, and then go to my kitchen.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">LONGING FOR HOME</div> + +<p>When I do come home I want to be in my own +house, and I am longing to be back. Many of my +friends go backwards and forwards to England all +the time, but when I return, I should like to +stay.</p> + +<p>I am in wonderfully comfortable rooms at +present, and the landlady is most kind and attentive. +She gives me a morning cup of tea, and the care and +comfort are making me much better. I get some +soup before I go off to my station, and last night I +was really a fine lady. When I came in tired, the +landlady, who is a Belgian, took off my boots for +me!</p> + +<p>When I come home I think I'll lie in bed all +day,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> and poor old Mary will get quite thin again +nursing me. The things you will have to do for +me, and all the pretty things I shall see and have, +are a great pleasure to think about!</p> + +<p class="lf_sal">Yours truly,</p> +<p class="lf_sig"><span class="smcap">S. Macnaughtan.</span></p> + + + +<hr class="full" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I_V" id="CHAPTER_I_V"></a>CHAPTER V +<span class="totoc"><a href="#CONTENTS">ToC</a></span></h2> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p> + +<h3>THE SPRING OFFENSIVE</h3> + + +<p><i>Villa les Chrysanthèmes, La Panne.</i>—I have been +to London for a few days to see about the publication +of my little war book. I got frightful +neuralgia there, and find that as soon as I begin to +rest I get ill.</p> + +<p>I went to a daffodil show, and found myself in +the very hall where the military bazaar was held +last year. I saw the place where the Welch had +their stall. What fun we had! How many of the +regiment are left? Only one officer not killed or +wounded. Lord Roberts, who opened the bazaar, +is gone too. All the soldiers whom I knew best +have been taken, and only a few tough women +seem to weather the storm of life.</p> + +<p>I had to see publishers in London, and do a lot +of business, and just when I was beginning to love +it all again my holiday was over. There had been +heavy fighting out here, and I felt I must come +back. My dear people didn't want me to return, +and were very severe on the subject, and Mary +scolded me most of the time. It was all affection +on their part, although it made "duty" rather a +criminal affair!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> +There was endless difficulty about my passport +when I returned. The French Consulate was +besieged by people, and I had to go there at +8.30 a.m. and wait till the doors were opened, and +was then told I must first go to the Foreign Office +to get an order from Colonel Walker. I went +down to Whitehall from Bedford Square, and was +told I must get a letter from Mr. Coventry. I went +to Pall Mall and Mr. Coventry said it was quite +impossible to do anything for me without instructions +from Mr. Sawyer. Mr. Sawyer said the only +thing he could do (if I could establish my identity) +was to send me to a matron who would make every +enquiry about me, and perhaps in three days I +might get an Anglo-French certificate, through +which Mr. Coventry might be induced to give me +a letter to give to Colonel Walker, who might then +sign the passport, which I could then take to +Bedford Square to be <a class="correction" title="original had "vise"">visé</a>.</p> + +<p>I got Sir John Furley to identify me, and then +began a dogged going from place to place and +from official to official till at last I got the thing +through. I felt just like a Russian being "broken." +There is a regular system, I believe, in Russia of +wearing people out by this sort of official tyranny. +I do not know anything more tiring or more +discouraging! I had all my papers in order—my +<a class="correction" title="original had "pasport"">passport</a>, my "laissez passer," a letter from Mr. +Bevan, explaining who I was and asking for "every +facility" for me, and my photograph, properly +stamped. I am now so loaded with papers that I +feel as if I were carrying a library about with me. +Oh, give me intelligent women to do things for +me!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> The best-run things I have seen since the +war began have been our women's unit at Antwerp +and Lady Bagot's hospital at Adinkerke.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">QUARRELLING</div> + +<p>I came back refreshed. I think everyone (every +woman) out here has noticed how indifferent and +really "nasty" people are to each other at the +front. It is one of the singular things about the +war, because one always hears it said that it is +deepening people's characters, purifying them, and +so on. As far as my experience goes, it has shown +me the reverse. I have seldom known so much +quarrelling, and there is a sort of queer unhappiness +which has nothing to do with the actual war or loss +of friends. I can't be mistaken about it, because I +see it on all sides.</p> + +<p>At the —— hospital men and women alike are +quarrelling all the time. Resignations are frequent. +So-and-so has got So-and-so turned out; someone +has written to the committee in London to report +on someone else; a nice doctor is dismissed. +Every nurse has given notice at different times. +Most people are hurt and sore about something. +Love seems quite at a discount, and one can't help +wondering if Hate can be infectious! It is all +frightfully disappointing, for surely one's heart beat +high when one made up one's mind to do what one +could for suffering Belgium and for the sake of the +English name.</p> + +<p>Those two poor girls at ——! I know they +meant well, and had high ideas of what they were +going to do. Now they "use langwidge" to each +other (although I know a very strong affection +binds them), and very, very strong that language is.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> +Poor souls, the people here aren't a bit happy. +I wonder if the work is sufficiently "sanctified." +One never knows. Lady Bagot's is the happiest +and most serene place here; her men are Church +Army people, and they have evening prayers in the +ward. It <i>does</i> make a difference.</p> + +<p>Scandals also exist out here, but they are +merely silly, I think, and very unnecessary, though +a little conventionality wouldn't hurt anyone. +Sometimes I think it would be better if we were +all at home, for Belgians are particular, and I hate +breeches and gaiters for girls, and a silly way of +going on. I do wish people could sometimes leave +sex at home, but they never seem to. I wonder if +Crusaders came back with scandals attached to +their names!</p> + +<p>I got back here in one of those rushes of work +that come in war time when fighting is near. At +first no car could be spared to meet me at Boulogne, +so I had to wait at the Hôtel Maurice for two +or three days. I didn't mind much as I met such +a lot of English friends, and also visited some +interesting hospitals; but I knew by the thousands +of wounded coming in that things must be busy at +the front, and this made one champ one's bit.</p> + +<p>The Canadians and English who poured in from +Ypres were terribly damaged, and the asphyxiating +gas seems to have been simply diabolical. It was +awful to see human beings so mangled, and I never +get one bit accustomed to it. The streets were +full of British soldiers, and the hospitals swarmed +with wounded. I went to visit the Casino one. +The bright sun streamed through lowered blinds on +hundreds<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> of beds, and on stretchers lying between +them. Many Canadians were there, and rows of +British. God! how they were knocked about! The +vast rooms echoed to the cries of pain. The men +were vowing they could never face shells and hand +grenades any more. They were so newly wounded, +poor boys; but they come up smiling when their +country calls again.</p> + +<p>But it <i>isn't right</i>. This damage to human life is +horrible. It is madness to slaughter these thousands +of young men. Almost at last, in a rage, one +feels inclined to cry out against the sheer imbecility +of it. Why bring lives into the world and +shell them out of it with jagged pieces of iron, +and knives thrust through their quivering flesh? +The pain of it is all too much. I am <i>sick</i> with +seeing suffering.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">DUNKIRK SHELLED</div> + +<p>On Thursday, April 29th, Mr. Cooper, and +another man came for us, and we left Boulogne. +At Dunkirk we could hardly credit our eyes—the +place had been shelled that very afternoon! I +never saw such a look of bewilderment and horror +as there was on all faces. No one had ever dreamed +that the place could be hit by a German gun, yet +here were houses falling as if by magic, and no one +knew for a moment where on earth or in heaven +the shells were coming from. Some people said +they came from the sea, but the houses I saw hadn't +been hit from the sea, which lies north, but from +the east. Others talked of an armoured train, but +armoured trains don't carry 15-inch shells. So all +anyone could do was to <i>gape</i> with sheer astonishment.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>Dunkirk, that safest of places, the haven to which +we were all to fly when Furnes or La Panne were +bombarded! Everybody contradicted one, of course, +when one declared that no naval gun had been at +work, but the fact remains that a long-range field-piece +had been hidden at Leke, and Dunkirk was +shelled for three days, and, as far as I know, may +be shelled again. The inhabitants have all fled. +The shops are not even shut; one could help oneself +to anything! The "état major" has left, and so +have all the officials; 23,000 tickets have been +taken at the railway station, and the road to Calais +<a class="correction" title="original had "s"">is</a> blocked with fleeing refugees.</p> + +<p>It was rather odd that the day I left here and +passed through Furnes it was being shelled, and we +had to wait a little while before we could get +through; and when I arrived at Dunkirk the bombardment +was just over, and a huge shell-hole +prevented us passing down a certain road.</p> + +<p>Well, I got back to my work at Adinkerke in +the midst of the fighting, and reached it just as the +sun was setting. What a scene at the station, +where I stopped before reaching home to leave the +chairs and things I had bought for the hospital +there! They were bringing in civilians wounded at +Ypres and Poperinghe, which place also has been +shelled (and yet we say we are advancing!), and +there were natives also from Nieuport.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">WOUNDED WOMEN AND CHILDREN</div> + +<p>One whole ambulance was filled with wounded +children. I think King Herod himself might have +been sorry for them. Wee things in splints, or +with their curly heads bandaged; tiny mites, looking +with wonder at their hands swathed in linen; +babies<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> with their tender flesh torn, and older children +crying with terror. There were two tiny things +seated opposite each other on a big stretcher playing +with dolls, and a little Christmas-card sort of +baby in a red hood had had its mother and father +killed beside it. Another little mite belonged to +no one at all. Who could tell whether its parents +had been killed or not? I am afraid many of them +will never find their relations again. In the general +scrimmage everyone gets lost. If this isn't frightfulness +enough, God in heaven help us!</p> + +<p>On the platform was a row of women lying on +stretchers. They were decent-looking brown-haired +matrons for the most part, and it looked +unnatural and ghastly to see them lying there. +One big railway compartment was slung with their +stretchers, and some young men in uniform nursed +the babies. I shall never forget that railway compartment +as long as I live. A man in khaki +appeared, thoughtful, as our people always are, and +brought a box of groceries with him, and sweet +biscuits for the children, and other things. Thank +Heaven for the English!</p> + +<p>At the hospital it was really awful, and the +doctors were working in shifts of twenty-four hours +at a time.</p> + +<p>I left my tables, chairs, trays, etc., for the hospital +at the station, and returned early the next day, for +numbers of wounded were still coming in. I wanted +slippers for everyone, but my Belgian helpers had +given a hundred pairs of mine away in my absence. +They were overworked a little, I think, so I overlooked +the fact that they lost their tempers rather +badly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> Besides, I will <i>not</i> quarrel. In a small +kitchen it would be too ridiculous. The three little +people fight among themselves, but I don't fancy I +was made for that sort of thing.</p> + +<p>There was nothing but work for some time. My +"éclopés" had been entirely neglected, and no one +had even bothered to buy vegetables for the men.</p> + +<p>On Sunday, May 2nd, I went to see Dr. de Page's +hospital. I saw a baby three weeks old with both +his feet wounded. His mother came in one mass of +wounds, and died on the operating table—a young +mother, and a pretty one. A young man with +tears in his eyes looked at the baby, and then said, +"A jolly good shot at fifteen miles."</p> + +<p>They can't help making jokes.</p> + +<p>There were two Scots lying in a little room—both +gunners, who had been hit at Nieuport. One, +Ochterlony from Arbroath, had an eye shot away, +and some other wounds; the other, McDonald, had +seven bad injuries. Ochterlony talked a good deal +about his eyes, till McDonald rolled his head +round on the pillow, and remarked briefly, "I'd +swop my stomach for your eyes."</p> + +<p>Sunday wasn't such a nasty day as I usually +have—in fact, Sunday never is. But that station, +with its glaring hot platform, its hotter kitchen, and +its smells, takes a bit of sticking. I have discovered +one thing about Belgium. Everything smells +exactly alike. To-day there have been presented +to my nose four different things purporting to have +different odours, drains, some cheese, tobacco, and +a bunch of lilac. There was no difference at all in +the smells!</p> + +<div class="sidenote">WAR WEARINESS</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> +I am much struck by the feeling of sheer weariness +and disgust at the war which prevails at present. +People are "soul sick" of it. A man told me last +night that he longed to be wounded so that he +might go home honourably. Amongst all the +volunteer corps I notice the same thing. "Fed +up" is the expression they all use, fed up with the +suffering they see, fed up even with red crosses and +khaki.</p> + +<p>When one thinks of primrose woods at home, and +birds singing, and apple-blossom against blue sky, +and the park with its flower-beds newly planted, +and the fresh-watered streets, and women in pretty +dresses—but one mustn't!</p> + +<p><i>6 May.</i>—Mrs. Guest arrived here to stay yesterday, +and her chauffeur, Mr. Wood, dined here. It +is nice to be no longer quite alone. Last night we +were talking about how horrible war is. Mrs. Guest +told me of a sight she had herself seen. Some men, +horribly wounded, were being sent away by rail in +a covered waggon ("fourgon"). One man had +only his mouth left in his face. He was raving +mad, and raged up and down the van, trampling on +other men's wounded and broken limbs.</p> + +<p>Certainly war is a pretty game, and we must go +on singing "Tipperary," and saying what fun it is. +A young friend of mine at home gave me a pamphlet +(price 2d.) written by a spinster friend of hers +who had never left England, proving what a good +thing this war was for us all. When I said I saw +another aspect of it, the kind, soothing suggestion +was that I must be a little over-tired.</p> + +<p><i>7 May.</i>—They say La Panne is to be bombarded +to-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>day. The Queen has left. Some people fussed +a good deal, but if one bothered one's poor head +about every rumour of this sort (mostly "dropped +from a German aeroplane") where would one +be?</p> + +<p>I was much touched when some people at home +clubbed together and sent me out a little car a +short time ago. But, alas! it had not been chosen +with judgment, and is no use. It has been rather +a bother to me, and now it must go back. Mr. +Carlile drove it up from Dunkirk, and it broke +down six times, and then had to be left in a ditch +while he got another car to tow it home. Since +then it has lain at the station.</p> + +<p>I can't get anyone to come and inspect it. The +extraordinary habit which prevails here of saying +"No" to every request makes things difficult, for +no privileges can be bought. Sometimes, when I +hear people ask for the salt, I fancy the answer will +be, "Certainly not." Two of our own chauffeurs +live quite close to the station: they say they are +busy, and can't look at my car. One smiles, and +says: "When you <i>have</i> time I shall be <i>so</i> grateful, +etc." Inwardly one is feeling that if one could <i>roar</i> +just for once it would be a relief.</p> + +<p>Sometimes at home I have felt a little embarrassed +by the love people have shown me—as if I have +somehow deceived them into thinking I was nicer +than I really am. Out here I have to try to +remember that I have a few friends! In London +I couldn't understand it when people praised me or +said kind things.</p> + +<p>There is only one straight tip for Belgium—have +a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> car, and understand it yourself. Never did I feel +so helpless without one. But the roads are too +bad and too crowded to begin to learn to drive, and +there are difficulties about a garage.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">MY CAR</div> + +<p>This evening Mr. Wood and I went to Hoogstadt, +and towed that <i>corpse</i>—my car—up to La +Panne for —— to inspect. The whole Belgian army +seemed to gather round us as we proceeded on our +toilsome journey, with breaking tow-ropes (for the +"corpse" is heavy) and defective steering-gear. +<i>They</i> were amused. I was just cracking with fatigue. +Needless to say, —— didn't come. As the car was +a present I can't send it back without the authority +of a chauffeur. If I keep it any longer they will say +I used it and broke it....</p> + +<p>There were some fearful bad cases at Hoogstadt +to-day, and we were touched to see an old man +sitting beside his unconscious son and keeping the +flies off him, while he sobbed in great gusts. One +Belgian officer told us that the hardest thing he +had to do in the war was to give the order to fire +on a German regiment which was advancing with +Belgian women and children in front of it. He +gave the order, and saw these helpless creatures +shot down before his eyes.</p> + +<p>At the Yser the other night two German regiments +got across the river and found themselves +surrounded. One regiment surrendered, and the +men of the other coolly turned their guns on it and +shot their comrades down.</p> + +<p>Some of our corps were evacuating women and +children the other day. One man, seeing his wife +and daughter stretched out on the ground, went +mad,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> and ran up and down the field screaming. +We see a lot of madness.</p> + +<p><i>8 May.</i>—The guns sound rather near this morning, +and the windows shake. One never knows +what is happening till the wounded come in. I +sat with my watch in my hand and counted the +sound of bursting shells. There were 32 in one +minute. The firing is continuous, and very loud, +and living men are under this fire at this moment, +"mown down," "wiped out," as the horrible terms +go. I loathe even the sound of a bugle now. This +carnage is too horrible. If people can't "realise" +let them come near the guns.</p> + +<p>They were shelling Furnes again when I was at +Steenkerke the other day, and it was a strange +sound to hear the shells whizzing over the peaceful +fields. One heard them coming, and they passed +overhead to fall on the old town. Under them +the brown cattle fed unheeding, and old women +hoed undisturbed, and the sinking sun threw long +shadows on the grass. And then a busy ambulance +would fly past on the road; one caught a glimpse +of blood-covered forms. "Yes, a few wounded, +and two or three killed."</p> + +<p>Old women are the most courageous creatures +on this earth. When everyone else has fled from a +place you can see them sitting by their cottage +doors or hoeing turnips in the line of fire.</p> + +<p>It was touching to see a little family of terrified +children sheltering with their mother in a roadside +Calvary when the shells were coming over. The +poor young mother was holding up her baby to +Christ on His cross.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">THE CRUCIFIX UNDAMAGED</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> +There is a matter which seems almost more than +a coincidence, and one which has been too often +remarked to be ignored, and that is, that in the +midst of ruins which are almost totally destroyed +the figure of Christ in some niche often remains +untouched. I have seen it myself, and many +writers have commented on the fact. Sometimes +it is only a crucifix on some humble wall, or it may +be a shrine in a church. The solitary figure remains +and stands—often with arms raised to bless. At +Neuve Chapelle one learns that, although the havoc +is like that wrought by an earthquake, and the very +dead have been uprooted there, a crucifix stands at +the cross-roads at the north end of the village, and +the pitiful Christ still stretches out His hands. At +His feet lie the dead bodies of young soldiers. At +Nieuport I noticed a shrine over a doorway in the +church standing peacefully among the ruins, and +at Pervyse also one remained, until the tower reeled +and fell with an explosion from beneath, which was +deliberately ordered to prevent accidents from +falling masonry.</p> + +<p>I had to go to Dunkirk this afternoon and while +I was there I heard that the <i>Lusitania</i> had been +torpedoed and sunk with 1,600 souls on board her. +What change will this make in the situation? Is +America any use to us except in the matter of +supplies, and are we not getting these through as it +is? A nation like that ought to have an army or +a navy.</p> + +<p>Dunkirk was nearly deserted owing to the bombardment, +and it was difficult to find a shop open +to buy vegetables for my soup-kitchen. Still, I +enjoyed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> my afternoon. There was a chance that +shelling might begin again at any time, and a bitter +wind blew up clouds of prickly dust and sand; but +it was a great relief to be out in the open and away +from smells, and to have one's view no longer +bounded by a line of rails. God help us! What +a year this has been! It tires me even to think of +being happy again, cheerfulness has become such an +effort.</p> + +<p><i>10 May.</i>—I went to see my Scottish gunner at +the hospital to-day. He said, "I can't forget that +night," and burst out crying. "That night" he had +been wounded in seven places, and then had to +crawl to a "dug-out" by himself for shelter.</p> + +<p>Strong healthy men lie inert in these hospitals. +Many of them have face and head wounds. I saw +one splendid young fellow, with a beautiful face, +and straight clear eyes of a sort of forget-me-not +blue. He won't be able to speak again, as his jaw +is shot away. The man next him was being fed +through the nose.</p> + +<p>The matron told me to-day that last night a man +came in from Nieuport with the base of a shell +("the bit they make into ash trays," she said) embedded +in him. His clothing had been carried in +with it. He died, of course.</p> + +<p>One of our friends has been helping with stretcher +work, removing civilians. He was carrying away +a girl shot to pieces, and with her clothing in rags. +He took her head, and a young Belgian took her +feet, and the Belgian looked round and said quietly, +"This is my fiancée."</p> + +<div class="sidenote">THE "LUSITANIA"</div> + +<p><i>11 May.</i>—To-day being madame's washing day—we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> +ring the changes on the "nettoyage," "le +grand nettoyage," and "le lavage"—everything was +late. The newspaper came in, and was full of such +words as "horror," "resentment," "indignation," +about the <i>Lusitania</i>, but that won't give us back +our ship or our men. I wish we could do more +and say less, but the Press must talk, and always +does so "with its mouth." M. Rotsartz came to +breakfast. The guns had been going all night long, +there was a sense of something in the air, and I +fretted against platitudes in French and madame's +washing. At last I got away, and went to the sea +front, for the sound of bursting shells had become +tremendous.</p> + +<p>It was a sort of British morning, with a fresh +British breeze blowing our own blessed waves, and +there, in its grey grandeur, stood off a British man-of-war, +blazing away at the coast. The Germans +answered by shells, which fell a bit wide, and must +have startled the fishes (but no one else) by the +splash they made. There were long, swift torpedo-boats, +with two great white wings of cloven foam +at their bows, and a great flourish of it in their +wake, moving along under a canopy of their own +black smoke. It was the smoke of good British +coal, from pits where grimy workmen dwell in the +black country, and British sweat has to get it out +of the ground. Our grey lady was burning plenty +of it, and when she had done her work, she put up +a banner of smoke, and steamed away with a +splendid air of dignity across the white-flecked sea. +One knew the men on board her! Probably not a +heart beat quicker by a second for all the German +shells,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> probably dinner was served as usual, and +men got their tubs and had their clothes brushed +when it was all over.</p> + +<p>I went down to my kitchen a little late, but I +had seen something that Drake never saw—a bit of +modern sea-fighting. And in the evening, when I +returned, my grey mistress had come back again. +The sun was westering now, and the sea had turned +to gold, and the grey lady looked black against the +glare, but the fire of her guns was brighter than the +evening sunset, and she was a spit-fire, after all, this +dignified queen, and she, "let 'em have it," too, +while the long, lean torpedo-boats looked on.</p> + +<p>I went to the kitchen; I gave out jam, I distributed +socks, I heard the fussy importance of +minor officials, but I had something to work on +since I had seen the grey lady at work.</p> + +<p>In the evening I dined quietly on the barge with +Miss Close and Maxine Elliott. We had a game of +bridge—a thing I had not seen for a year and more +(the last time I played was down in Surrey at the +Grange!), and the little gathering on the old +timbered barge was pleasant.</p> + +<p>Some terrible stories of the war are coming +through from the front. An officer told us that +when they take a trench, the only thing which +describes what the place is like is strawberry jam. +Another said that in one trench the sides were +falling, and the Germans used corpses to make a +wall, and kept them in with piles fixed into the +ground. Hundreds of men remain unburied.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">GERMAN PRISONERS</div> + +<p>Some people say that the German gunners are +chained to their guns. There were six Germans at +the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> station to-day, two wounded and four prisoners. +Individually I always like them, and it is useless to +say I don't. They are all polite and grateful, and +I thought to-day, when the prisoners were surrounded +by a gaping crowd, that they bore themselves +very well. After all, one can't expect a +whole nation of mad dogs. A Scotchman said, +"The ones opposite us (<i>i.e.</i>, in the trenches) were a +very respectable lot of men."</p> + +<p>The German prisoners' letters contain news that +battalions of British suffragettes have arrived at +the front, and they warn officers not to be captured +by these!</p> + +<p><i>12 May.</i>—To-day, when I got to the station, I +was asked to remove an old couple who sat there +hand in hand, covered with blood. The old woman +had her arm blown off, and the man's hand was +badly injured. We took them to de Page's +hospital.</p> + +<p>The firing has been continuous for the last few +days, and men coming in from Ypres and Dixmude +and Nieuport say that the losses on both sides have +been enormous. There were four Belgian officers +who lived opposite my villa, whom one used to see +going in and out. Last night all were killed.</p> + +<p>At Dixmude the other day the Duke of Westminster +went to the French bureau to get his +passport visé. The clerks were just leaving, but +he begged them to remain a minute or two and to +do his little business. They did so, and came to +the door to see him off, but a shell came hurtling +in and killed them both, and of a woman who stood +near there was literally nothing left.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +Last night —— and I were talking about the +<i>gossip</i>, which would fill ten unpublishable volumes +out here.... Why do these people come out to +the front? Give me men for war, and no one else +except nuns. Things may be all right, but the +Belgians are horrified, and I hate them to "say +things" of the English. The grim part of it is that +I don't believe I personally hear one half of what +goes on and what is being said. They are afraid of +shocking me, I believe.</p> + +<p>The craze for men baffles me. I see women, +<i>dead tired</i>, perk up and begin to be sparkling as +soon as a man appears; and when they are alone +they just seem to sink back into apathy and fatigue. +Why won't these mad creatures stop at home? +They <i>are</i> the exception, but war seems to bring +them out. It really is intolerable, and I hate it for +women's sake, and for England's.</p> + +<p>The other day I heard some ladies having a +rather forced discussion on moral questions, loud +and frank.... Shades of my modest ancestresses! +Is this war time, and in a room filled with men and +smoke and drink, are women in knickerbockers discussing +such things? I know I have got to "let +out tucks," but surely not quite so far!</p> + +<p>Beautiful women and fast women should be +chained up. Let men meet their God with their +conscience clear. Most of them will be killed +before the war is over. Surely the least we can do +is not to offer them temptation. Death and +destruction, and horror and wonderful heroism, +seem so near and so transcendent, and then, quite +close at hand, one finds evil doings.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">A TREASURE</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> +<i>14 May.</i>—I heard two little stories to-day, one +of a British soldier limping painfully through +Poperinghe with a horrid wound in his arm and +thigh.</p> + +<p>"You seem badly wounded," a friend of mine +said to him.</p> + +<p>"Yus," said the soldier; "there were a German, +and he wounded me in three places, but"—he drew +from under his arm a treasure, and his poor dirty +face was transformed by a delighted grin—"I got +his bloody helmet."</p> + +<p>Another story was of an English officer telephoning +from a church-tower. He gave all his directions +clearly and distinctly, and never even hinted that +the Germans had taken the town and were +approaching the church. He just went on talking, +till at last, as the tramp of footsteps sounded on +the belfry stairs, he said, "Don't take any notice of +any further information. I am going." He went—all +the brave ones seem to go—and those were the +last words he spoke.</p> + +<p>Rhodes Moorhouse flew low over the German lines +the other day, in order to bombard the German +station at Courtrai. He planed down to 300 feet, +and became the target for a hundred guns. In the +murderous fire he was wounded, and might have +descended, but he was determined not to let the +Germans have his machine. He planed down to +100 feet in order to gather speed. At this elevation +he was hit again, and mortally wounded, but +he flew on alone to the British lines—like a shot +bird heading for its own nest. He didn't even stop +at the first aerodrome he came to, but sailed on—always<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> +alone—to his base, made a good landing, +handed over his machine, and died.</p> + +<p>In the hospitals what heroism one finds! One +splendid fellow of 6 feet 2 inches had both his legs +and both his arms amputated. He turned round to +the doctor and said, smiling, "I shan't have to +complain of beds being too short now!" And when +someone came and sat with him in his deadly pain, +he remarked in his gentle way, "I am afraid I am +taking up all your time." His old father and +mother arrived after he was dead.</p> + +<p>Ah! if one could hear more, surely one would do +more! But this hole-and-corner way of doing warfare +damps all enthusiasm and stifles recruiting. +Why are we allowed to know nothing until the news +is stale? Yesterday I heard at first hand of the +treatment of some civilians by Germans, and I +visited a village to hear from the <i>people themselves</i> +what had happened.</p> + +<p>My work isn't so heavy now, and, much as I +want to be here when the "forward movement" +comes, I believe I ought to use the small +amount of kick I have left in me to go to +give lectures on the war to men in ammunition +works at home. They all seem to be slacking and +drinking, and I believe one might rouse them if +one went oneself, and told stories of heroism, and +tales of the front. The British authorities out +here seem to think I ought to go home and give +lectures at various centres, and I have heard from +Vickers-Maxim's people that they want me to +come.</p> + +<p>I think I'll arrive in London about the 1st of +June,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> as there is a good deal to arrange, and I have +to see heads of departments. One has to forget all +about <i>parties</i> in politics, and get help from Lloyd +George himself. I only hope the lectures may be +of some use.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center"><i>To Mrs. ffolliott.</i></p> + +<p class="lh_ind0"><span class="smcap">Villa les Chrysanthèmes,</span></p> +<p class="lh_ind2"><span class="smcap">La Panne, Belgium,</span></p> +<p class="lh_ind4"><i>16 May.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Darling old Poot,</span></p> + +<div class="sidenote">TO MRS. FFOLLIOTT</div> + +<p>One line, to wish you with all my heart +a happy birthday. I shan't forget you on the 22nd. +Will you buy yourself some little thing with the +enclosed cheque?</p> + +<p>This war becomes a terrible strain. I don't +know what we shall do when four nephews, a +brother-in-law, and a nephew to be are in the field.</p> + +<p>I get quite sick with the loss of life that is going +on; the whole land seems under the shadow of death. +I shall always think it an idiotic way of settling +disputes to plug pieces of iron and steel into +innocent boys and men. But the bravery is simply +wonderful. I could tell you stories which are +almost unbelievable of British courage and fortitude.</p> + +<p>I am coming home soon to give some lectures, +and then I hope to come out here again.</p> + +<p>Bless you, dear Poot,</p> + +<p class="lf_sal">Your loving</p> +<p class="lf_sig"><span class="smcap">Sarah.</span></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><i>17 May.</i>—I saw a most curious thing to-day. +A soldier in the Pavilion St. Vincent showed me +five 5-franc pieces which he had had in his pocket +when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> he was shot. A piece of shrapnel had bent +the whole five until they were welded together. The +shrapnel fitted into the silver exactly, and actually +it was silvered by the scrape it had made against +the coin. I should like to have had it, but the +man valued his souvenir, so one didn't like to offer +him money for it.</p> + +<p>A young Canadian found a comrade of his nailed +to a door, and stone dead, of course. When did he +die?</p> + +<p>A Belgian doctor told Mrs. Wynne that in +looking through a German officer's knapsack he +found a quantity of children's hands—a pretty +souvenir! I write these things down because they +must be known, and if I go home to lecture to +munition-workers I suppose I must tell them of +these barbarities.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, the German prisoners in England are +getting country houses placed at their service, +electric light, baths, etc., and they say girls are +allowed to come and play lawn tennis with them. +The ships where they are interned are costing us +£86,000 a month. Our own men imprisoned in +Germany are starved, and beaten, and spat upon. +They sleep on mouldy straw, have no sanitation, and +in winter weather their coats, and sometimes even +their tunics, were taken from them.</p> + +<p>Fortunately, reprisals need not come from us. +Talk to Zouaves and Turcos and the French. God +help Germany if they ever penetrate to the Rhine.</p> + +<p>A young man—Mr. Shoppe—is occupied in +flying low over the gun that is bombarding Dunkirk +in order to take a photograph of it.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> +It seems to me a great deal to ask of young men +to give their lives when life must be so sweet, but +no one seems to grudge their all. Of some one +hears touching and splendid stories; others, one +knows, die all alone, gasping out their last breath +painfully, with no one at hand to give them even a +cup of water. No one has a tale to tell of them. +God, perhaps, heard a last prayer or a last groan +before Death came with its merciful hand and put +an end to the intolerable pain.</p> + +<p>How much can a man endure? A Frenchman +at the Zouave Poste au Secours looked calmly on +while the remains of his arm were cut away the +other night. Many operations are performed without +chloroform (because they take a shorter time) at +the French hospital.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">A HEAVENLY HOST</div> + +<p>I heard from R. to-day. He says the story about +Mons is true. The English were retreating, and +Kluck was following hard after them. He wired +to the Kaiser that he had "got the English," but +this is what men say happened. A cloud came out +of a clear day and stood between the two armies, +and in the cloud men saw the chariots and horses +of a heavenly host. Kluck turned back from pursuing, +and the English went on unharmed.</p> + +<p>This may be true, or it may be the result of +men's fancy or of their imagination. But there is +one vision which no one can deny, and which each +man who cares to look may see for himself. It is +the vision of what lies beyond sacrifice; and in that +bright and heavenly atmosphere we shall see—we +may, indeed, see to-day—the forms of those who +have fallen. They fight still for England, unharmed +now<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> and for ever more, warriors on the side of right, +captains of the host which no man can number, +champions of all that we hold good. They are +marching on ahead, and we hope to follow; and +when we all meet, and the roll is called, we shall +find them still cheery, I think, still unwavering, and +answering to their good English names, which they +carried unstained through a score of fights, at what +price God and a few comrades know.</p> + + + +<hr class="full" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I_VI" id="CHAPTER_I_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI +<span class="totoc"><a href="#CONTENTS">ToC</a></span></h2> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p> + +<h3>LAST DAYS IN FLANDERS</h3> + + +<p><i>19 May.</i>—In order to get material for my lecture +to munition-workers I was very anxious to see more +of the war for myself than is possible at a soup-kitchen, +and I asked at the British Mission if I +might be given permission to go into the British +lines. Major —— in giving me a flat refusal, was +a little pompous and important I thought, and he +said it was <i>impossible</i> to get near the British.</p> + +<p>To-day I lunched on the barge with Miss Close, +and we took her car and drove to Poperinghe. I +hardly like to write this even in a diary, I am so +seldom naughty! But I really did something very +wrong for once. And the amusing part of it was +that military orders made going to Poperinghe so +impossible that no one molested us! We passed +all the sentries with a flourish of our green papers, +and drove on to the typhoid hospital with only a few +Tommies gaping at us.</p> + +<p>I was amazed at the pleasure that wrong-doing +gives, and regretted my desperately strict past life! +Oh, the freedom of that day in the open air! the +joy of seeing trees after looking at one wretched line +of rails for nine months! Lilacs were abloom in +every<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> garden, and buttercups made the fields look +yellow. The air was misty—one could hardly have +gone to Poperinghe except in a mist, as it was being +so constantly shelled—but in the mist the trees had +a queer light on them which made the early green +look a deeper and stronger colour than I have ever +seen it. There appeared to be a sort of glare under +the mist, and the fresh wet landscape, with its top-heavy +sky, radiated with some light of its own. +Oh, the intoxication of that damp, wet drive, with a +fine rain in our faces, and the car bounding under us +on the "pavé"! If I am interned till the end of the +war I don't care a bit! I have had some fresh air, +and I have been away for one whole day from the +smell of soup and drains.</p> + +<p>How describe it all? The dear sense of guilt first, +and then the still dearer British soldiers, all ready +with some cheery, cheeky remark as they sat in +carts under the wet trees. They were our brethren—blue-eyed +and fair-haired, and with their old +clumsy ways, which one seemed to be seeing plainly +for the first time, or, rather, recognising for the first +time. It was all part of England, and a day out. +The officers were taking exercise, of course, with +dogs, and in the rain. We are never less than +English! To-morrow we may be killed, but to-day +we will put on thick boots, and take the dogs for a +run in the rain.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">AT POPERINGHE</div> + +<p>Poperinghe was deserted, of course. Its busy +cobbled streets were quite empty except for a few +strolling soldiers in khaki, and just here and there +the same toothless old woman who is always the last +to leave a doomed city. At the typhoid hospital we +gravely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> offered the cases of milk which we had +brought with us as an earnest of our good conduct, +but even the hospital was nearly empty. However, a +secretary offered us a cup of tea, and in the dining-room +we found Madame van den Steen, who had just +returned to take up her noble work again. She +was at Dinant, at her own château, when war broke +out, and she was most interesting, and able to tell +me things at first hand. The German methods +are pretty well known now, but she told me a great +deal which only women talking together could +discuss. When a village or town was taken, the +women inhabitants were quite at the mercy of the +Germans.</p> + +<p>Continuing, Madame van den Steen said that all +the filthiness that could be thought of was committed—the +furniture, cupboards, flowerpots, and even +bridge-tables, being sullied by these brutes. Children +had their hands cut off, and one woman, at least, +at Dinant was crucified. One's pen won't write +more. The horrors upset one too much. All the +babies born about that time died; their mothers +had been so shocked and frightened....</p> + +<p>Of Ypres Madame said, "It smells of lilac and +death." Some Englishmen were looking for the +body of a comrade there, and failed to find it +amongst the ruins of the burning and devastated +town. By seeming chance they opened the door of +a house which still stood, and found in a room +within an old man of eighty-six, sitting placidly in +a chair. He said, "How do you do?" and bade +them be seated, and when they exclaimed, aghast +at his being still in Ypres, he replied that he was +paralysed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> and couldn't move, but that he knew God +would send someone to take him away; and he +smiled gently at them, and was taken away in their +ambulance.</p> + +<p>Madame gave me a shell-case, and asked Mr. +Thompson if he would bring in his large piece to +show us. He wheeled it across the hall, as no one +could lift it, and this was only the <i>base</i> of a 15-inch +shell. It was picked up in the garden of the hospital, +and had travelled fifteen miles!</p> + +<p>The other day I went to see for myself some of +the poor refugees at Coxide. There were twenty-five +people in one small cottage. Some were sleeping +in a cart. One weeping woman, wearing the little +black woollen cap which all the women wear, told +me that she and her family had to fly from their +little farm at Lombaertzyde because it was being +shelled by the Germans, but afterwards, when +all seemed quiet, they went back to their home to +save the cows. Alas, the Germans were there! +They made this woman (who was expecting a +baby) and all her family stand in a row, and one +girl of twenty, the eldest daughter, was shot before +their eyes. When the poor mother begged for the +body of her child it was refused her.</p> + +<p>The <i>Times</i> list of atrocities is too frightful, and +all the evidence has been sifted and proved to +be true.</p> + +<p><i>20 May.</i>—Yesterday I arranged with Major du +Pont about leaving the station to go home and +give lectures in England. Then I had a good deal +to do, so I abandoned my plan of visiting refugees +with Etta Close, and stayed on at the station. At +5.30<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> I came back to La Panne to see Countess de +Caraman Chimay, the dame d'honneur of the Queen +of the Belgians; then I went on to dine with +the nurses at the "Ocean." Here I heard that +Adinkerke, which I had just left, was being shelled. +Fortunately, the station being there, I hope the +inhabitants got away; but it was unpleasant to +hear the sound of guns so near. I knew the three +Belgian Sisters would be all right, as they have +a good cellar at their house, and I could trust Lady +Bagot's staff to look after her. All the same, +it was a horrible night, full of anxiety, and there +seems little doubt that La Panne will be shelled +any day. My one wish is—let's all behave well.</p> + +<p>I watched the sunset over the sea, and longed to +be in England; but, naturally, one means to stick +it, and not leave at a nasty time.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">SOCKS</div> + +<p><i>21 May.</i>—Yesterday, at the station, there was a +poor fellow lying on a stretcher, battered and +wounded, as they all are, an eye gone, and a foot +bandaged. His toes were exposed, and I went and +got him rather a gay pair of socks to pull on over +his "pansement." He gave me a twinkle out of +his remaining eye, and said, "Madame, in those +socks I could take Constantinople!"</p> + +<p>The work is slack for the moment, but a great +attack is expected at Nieuport, and they say the +Kaiser is behind the lines there. His presence +hasn't brought luck so far, and I hope it won't this +time.</p> + +<p>I went to tea with Miss Close on the barge, and +afterwards we picked up M. de la Haye, and went +to see an old farm, which filled me with joy. The +buildings<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> here, except at the larger towns, are not +interesting or beautiful, but this lovely old house +was evidently once a summer palace of the bishops +(perhaps of Bruges). It is called "Beau Garde," +and lies off the Coxide road. One enters what +must once have been a splendid courtyard, but it is +now filled indiscriminately with soldiers and pigs. +The chapel still stands, with the Bishops' Arms on +the wall; and there are Spanish windows in the old +house, and a curious dog-kennel built into the wall. +Over the gateway some massive beams have been +roughly painted in dark blue, and these, covered in +ivy, and with the old dim-toned bricks above, make +a scheme of colour which is simply enchanting. +Some wind-torn trees and the sand-dunes, piled in +miniature mountains, form a delicious background +to the old place.</p> + +<p>I also went with Etta Close to visit some of the +refugees for whom she has done so much, and in +the sweet spring sunshine I took a little walk in +the fields with M. de la Haye, so altogether it was +a real nice day. There were so few wounded that +I was able to have a chat with each of them, and +the poor "éclopés" were happy gambling for +ha'pence in the garden of the St. Vincent.</p> + +<p>In the evening I went up to the Kursaal to dine +with Mrs. Wynne. Our two new warriors who +have come out with ambulances have stood this +<i>absolutely</i> quiet time for three days, and are now +leaving because it is too dangerous! The shells at +Adinkerke never came near them, as they were +deputed to drive to Nieuport only. (N.B.—Mrs. +Wynne<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> continues to drive there every night!) +Eight men of our corps have funked, no women.</p> + +<p>I am going to take a week's rest before going +home, in the hope that I won't arrive looking as +ill as I usually do. I hardly know how to celebrate +my holiday, as it is the first time since I came out +here that I haven't gone to the station except on +Sundays.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">SUNDAY</div> + +<p><i>23 May, Sunday.</i>—I went to Morning Service +at the "Ocean" to-day, then walked back with +Prince Alexander. In the evening we drove to +the Hoogstadt hospital. The King of the Belgians +was just saying good-bye to the staff, after paying a +surprise visit. He has a splendid face, and the +simplicity of his plain dark uniform makes the +strength and goodness of it all the more striking.</p> + +<p>As I was waiting at the hospital the Germans +began firing at a little village a mile off. It is +always strange to hear the shells whizzing over the +fields. We drove out to see the Yser and the +floods, which have protected us all the winter. +With glasses one could have seen the German +lines.</p> + +<p>Spring is coming late, and with a marvel of +green. A wind blows in from the sea, and the +lilacs nod from over the hedge. The tender corn +rustles its soft little chimes, and all across it the +wind sends arpeggio chords of delicate music, like +a harp played on silver strings. A great big horse-chestnut +tree, carrying its flowers proudly like a +bouquet, showers the road with petals, and the shy +hedges put up a screen all laced and decorated +with white may. It just seems as if Mother Earth +had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> become young again, and was tossing her +babies up to the summer sky, and the wind played +hide-and-seek, or peep-bo, or some other ridiculous +game, with them, and made the summer babies as +glad and as mischievous as himself. Only the guns +boom all the time, and my poor little French +Marines, who drink far too much, and have the +manners of princes, come in on ambulances in the +evening, or at the "poste" a hole is dug for them +in the ground, and they are laid down gently in +their dirty coats.</p> + +<p>Mother Earth, with her new-born babies, stops +laughing for a moment, and says to me, "It's all +right, my dear; they have to come back to me, as +all my children and all their works must do. Why +make any complaint? For a time they are happy, +playing and building their little castles, and making +their little books, and weaving stories and wreaths +of flowers; but the stories, the castles, the flowers +I gave them, and they themselves, all come back to +me at last—the leaves next autumn, and the boy +you love perhaps to-morrow."</p> + +<p>Oh, Father God, Mother Earth, as it was in the +beginning will it be in the end? Will you give us +and them a good time again, and will the spring +burst into singing in some other country? I don't +know. I don't know.</p> + +<p>Only I do know this—I am sure of it now for the +first time, and it is worth while spending a long, long +winter within the sound of guns in order to know +it—that death brings release, not release from mere +suffering or pain, but in some strange and unknown +way it brings freedom. Soldiers realise it: they +have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> been more terrified than their own mothers +will ever know, and their very spines have melted +under the shrieking sound of shells, and then comes +the day when they "don't mind." Death stalks +just as near as ever, but his face is suddenly quite +kind. A stray bullet or a piece of shell may come, +but what does it matter? This is the day when +the soldier learns to stroll when the shrapnel is +falling, and to look up and laugh when the +murderous bullet pings close by.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">SOUVENIRS</div> + +<p>War souvenirs! There are heaps of them, and +I hate them all; pieces of jagged shell, helmets +with bullets through them, pieces of burnt +aeroplanes, scraps of clothing rent by a bayonet. +Yesterday, at the station, I saw a sick Zouave +nursing a German summer casquette. He said +quietly, being very sick: "The burgomaster chez +moi wanted one. Yes, I had to kill a German +officer for it—ce n'est rien de quoi—I got a ball in +my leg too, mais mon burgomaster sera très content +d'avoir une casquette d'un boche." Our own men +leave their trenches and go out into the open to get +these horrible things, with their battered exterior +and the suggestion of pomade inside.</p> + +<p>Yesterday, by chance, I went to the "Ierlinck" +to see Mr. Clegg. I met Mr. Hubert Walter, +lately arrived from England, and asked him to +dine, so both he and Mr. Clegg came, and Madame +van der Gienst. It was <i>so</i> like England to talk to +Mr. Walter again, and to learn news of everyone, +and we actually sat up till 10.30, and had a great +pow-wow.</p> + +<p>Mr. Walter attaches great importance to the +fact<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> that the Germans are courageous in victory, +but their spirits go down at once under defeat, and +he thinks that even one decisive defeat would do +wonders in the way of bringing the war to an end. +The Russians are preparing for a winter campaign. +I look at all my "woollies," and wonder if I had +better save some for 1916. What new horrors will +have been invented by that time? I hear the +Germans are throwing vitriol now! In their +results I hate hand grenades more than anything. +The poor burnt faces which have been wounded by +them are hardly human sometimes, and in their +bandages they have a suggestion of something +tragically grotesque.</p> + +<p><i>26 May.</i>—We had a great day—rather, a glorious +day—at the station yesterday. In the morning I +heard that "les anglais" were arriving there, and, +although the news was a little startling, I couldn't +go early to Adinkerke because I felt so seedy. +However, I got off at last in a "camion," and +when I arrived I found the little station hospital +and salle and Lady Bagot's hospital crowded with +men in khaki.</p> + +<p>We don't know yet all that it means. The +fighting has been fierce and awful at Ypres. Are +the hospitals at the base all crowded? Is there +no more room for our men? What numbers of +them have fallen? Who is killed, and who is +left?</p> + +<p>All questions are idle for the moment. Only I +have a postcard to say that Colin is at the front, so +I suppose until the war is over I shall go on being +very sick with anxiety. At night I say to myself, +as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> the guns boom on, "Is he lying out in the open +with a bullet through his heart?" and in the +morning I say, "Is he safe in hospital, and +wounded, or is he still with his men, making them +follow him (in the way he has) wherever he likes to +lead them?" God knows, and the War Office, and +neither tells us much.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">GAS-POISONING</div> + +<p>The men at the station were nearly all cases of +asphyxiation by gas. Unless one had actually +seen the immediate results one could hardly have +credited it. In a day or two the soldiers may leave +off twitching and shuddering as they breathe, and +may be able to draw a breath fairly, but an hour or +two after they have inhaled the deadly German gas +is an awful time to see one's men. Most of them +yesterday were in bed, but a few sat on canvas +chairs round the empty stove in the salle, and all +slept, even those in deadly pain. Sleep comes to +these tired soldiers like a death. They succumb to +it. They are difficult to rouse. They are oblivious, +and want nothing else. They are able to sleep +anywhere and in any position, but even in sleep +they twitch and shudder, and their sides heave like +those of spent horses.</p> + +<p>It struck me very forcibly that what was +immediately wanted was a long draught for each of +them of some clean, simple stimulant. I went and +bought them red wine, and I could see that this +seemed to do good, and I went to the barge and +got bottles of whisky and a quantity of distilled +water, and we dosed the men. It seemed to do +them a wonderful lot of good, and in some way +acted as an antidote to the poison. Also, it pulled +them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> together, and they got some quieter sleep +afterwards.</p> + +<p>Towards the afternoon, indeed, all but one Irishman +seemed to be better, and then we began to be +cheery, and the scene at the station took colour +and became intensely alive. The khaki-clad forms +roused themselves, and (of course) wanted a wash. +Also, they sat on their beds and produced pocket-combs, +and ran them through their hair. In +their dirt and rags these poor battered, breathless +men began to try to be smart again. It was a +tragedy and a comedy all in one. A Highlander, +in a shrunk kilt and with long bare legs, had his +head bound about with bandages till it looked like +a great melon, and his sleeve dangled empty from +his great-coat. Others of the Seaforths, and mere +boys of the Highland Territorials, wore khaki shirts +over their tartan, and these were bullet-torn and +hanging in great rents. And some boys still wore +their caps with the wee dambrod pattern jauntily, +and some had no caps to wear, and some were all +daubed about with white bandages stained crimson, +and none had hose, and few had brogues. They +had breathed poison and received shrapnel, and +none of them had slept since Sunday night. They +had had an "awful doing," and no one knew how +the battle at Ypres had gone, but these were men +yet—walking upright when they could, always +civil, undismayed, intelligent, and about as like +giving in as a piece of granite.</p> + +<p>Only the young Scottish boys—the children of +seventeen who had sworn in as nineteen—were +longing for Loch Lomond's side and the falls of +Inversnaid.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> I believe the Loch Lomond lads +believed that the white burn that falls over the +rocks near the pier has no rival (although they +have heard of Niagara and the Victoria Falls), and +it's "oor glen" and "oor country" wi' them all. +And one boy wanted his mother badly, and said +so. But oh, how ready they were to be cheery! +how they enjoyed their day! And, indeed, we did +our best for them.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">A GARDEN-PARTY</div> + +<p>Lady Bagot's hospital was full, and we called it +her garden-party when we all had tea in the open +air there. We fed them, we got them handkerchiefs, +our good du Pont got them tubs, the cook +heaped more coal on the fire, although it was very +hot, and made soup in buckets, and then began +a curious stage scene which I shall never forget. +It was on the platform of the station. A band +appeared from somewhere, and, out of compliment +to the English, played "God Save the King." All +the dirty bandaged men stood at attention. As +they did so an armoured train backed slowly into +the station and an aeroplane swooped overhead. +At Drury Lane one would have said that the +staging had been overdone, that the clothes were +too ragged, the men too gaunt and too much +wounded, and that by no stretch of imagination +could a band be playing "God save the King" +while a square painted train called "Lou-lou" +steamed in, looking like a child's giant gaudy toy, +and an aeroplane fussed overhead.</p> + +<p>Everyone had stories to tell, but I think the best +of them concerns the arrival of the wounded last +night. All the beds in Lady Bagot's little hospital +were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> full, and the Belgians who occupied them +insisted on getting up and giving their places to +the English. They lay on the floor or stood on +their feet all night, and someone told me that even +very sick men leapt from their beds to give them to +their Allies.</p> + +<p>God help us, what a mixture it all is! Here +were men talking of the very <i>sound</i> of bayonets on +human flesh; here were men not only asphyxiated +by gas, but blinded by the pepper that the Germans +mix with it; and here were men determined to +give no quarter—yet they were babbling of Loch +Lomond's side and their mothers, and fighting as +to who should give up their beds to each other.</p> + +<p>Of course the day ended with the exchange of +souvenirs, and the soldiers pulled buttons off their +coats and badges out of their caps. And when it +was all over, every mother's son of them rolled +round and went to sleep. Most of them, I thought, +had a curious air of innocence about them as they +slept.</p> + +<p><i>27 May.</i>—I took a great bundle of newspapers +and magazines to the "Jellicoe" men to-day. +English current literature isn't a waste out here, +and I often wonder why people don't buy more. +They all fall upon my tableful, and generally bear +away much of it.</p> + +<p>The war news, even in the ever optimistic English +press, is <i>not</i> good, but not nearly as bad as what +seems to me the real condition of affairs. The +shortage of high explosives is very great. At +Nieuport yesterday Mrs. Wynne said to a French +officer, "Things seem quiet here to-day," at which +he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> laughed, and said, "I suppose even Germans +will stop firing when they know you have no +ammunition."</p> + +<div class="sidenote">SLACKERS IN GLASGOW</div> + +<p>In France the armament works are going night +and day, and the men work in shifts of 24 hours—even +the women only get one day off in a week—while +in Glasgow the men are sticking out for strict +labour conditions, and are "slacking" from Friday +night till late on Tuesday morning, and then +demanding extra pay for overtime. And this in +face of the bare facts that since October the Allies +have lost ground in Russia; in Belgium they remain +as they were; and in France they have advanced a +few kilometres. At Ypres the Germans are now +within a mile of us, and the losses there are terrible. +Whom shall we ever see again?</p> + +<p>Men come out to die now, not to fight. One +order from a sergeant was, "You've got to take +that trench. You can't do it. Get on!"</p> + +<p>A captain was heard saying to a gunner subaltern: +"We must go back and get that gun." The +subaltern said, "We shall be killed, but it doesn't +matter." The captain echoed heavily, "No, it +doesn't matter," and they went back.</p> + +<p>Sir William Ramsay, speaking about the war, +says that half the adult male population of Europe +will be killed before it is over. Those who are left +will be the feeble ones, the slackers, the unfit, and +the cowards. It is good to be left to breed from +such stock!</p> + +<p>It is odd to me how confusing is the want of +difference that has come to pass between the living +and the not living. Cottages and little towns seem +to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> be part of nature. One regrets their destruction +almost as one regrets the loss of life. They have a +tragic look, with their dishevelled windows and +stripped roofs and skeleton frames. Life has +become so cheap that cottages seem almost as +valuable. "It doesn't matter"—nothing matters. +I rather dread going back to London, because +there things may begin to seem important and one +will be in bondage again. Here our men are going +to their death laughing because it doesn't matter.</p> + +<p>There is a proud humility about my countrymen +which few people have yet realised. It is the outcome +of nursery days and public schools. No one +is allowed to think much of himself in either place, +so when he dies, "It doesn't matter."</p> + +<p>God help the boys! If they only knew how +much it mattered to <i>us</i>! Life is over for them. +We don't even know for certain that they will live +again. But their <i>spirit</i>, as I know it, can never +die. I am not sure about the survival of personality. +I care, but I do not know. But I do know +that by these simple, glorious, uncomplaining +deaths, some higher, purer, more splendid place is +reached, some release is found from the heavy +weight of foolish, sticky, burdensome, contemptible +things. These heroes do "rise," and we "rise" +with them. Could Christ himself desire a better +resurrection?</p> + +<div class="sidenote">LARKS</div> + +<p><i>28 May.</i>—I am busy getting things prepared for +going home—my lecture, two articles, etc. I did +not go to the station to-day, but worked till +3 o'clock, and then walked over to St. Idesbald. +How I wish I could have been out-of-doors more +since<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> I came here. It is such a wonderful country, +all sky. No wonder there are painters in Belgium. +During the winter it was too wet to see much, and +I was always in the kitchen, but now I could kiss +the very ground with the little roses on it amongst +the Dunes. Larks sing at St. Idesbald, and +nightingales. Some fine night I mean to walk out +there and listen.</p> + +<p><i>29 May.</i>—To-day, according to promise, Mr. +Bevan took me into Nieuport. It was very difficult +to get permission to go there, but Mr. Bevan got +it from the British Mission on the plea that I was +going to give lectures at home.</p> + +<p>"The worst of going to Nieuport," said Major +Tyrell, "is that you won't be likely to see home +again."</p> + +<p>Mr. Bevan called at 10 o'clock with the faithful +MacEwan, and we went first to the Cabour hospital, +which I always like so much, and where the large +pleasure-grounds make things healthy and quiet for +the patients. Then we had a tyre out of order, so +had to go on to Dunkirk, where I met Mr. Sarrel +and his friend Mr. Hanson—Vice-Consul at Constantinople—and +they lunched with us while the +car was being doctored.</p> + +<p>At last we started towards Nieuport, but before +we got there we found a motor-car in a ditch, and +its owner with a cut on his head and his arm broken, +so we had to pick him up and take him to Coxide. +It was a clear, bright day, with all the trees swishing +the sky, and Mr. Bevan and MacEwan did nothing +all the time but tell me how dangerous it was, and +they pointed out every place on the road where +they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> had picked up dead men or found people +blown to pieces. This was lively for me, and the +amusing part of it was that I think they did it from +a belated sense of responsibility.</p> + +<p>It is as difficult to find words to describe +Nieuport as it is to talk of metaphysics in slang. +The words don't seem invented that will convey +that haunting sense of desolation, that supreme +quiet under the shock of continually firing guns. +Hardly anything is left now of the little homely +bits that, when I saw the place last autumn, +reminded one that this was once a city of living +human beings. <i>Then</i> one saw a few interiors—exposed, +it is true, and damaged, but still of this +world. Now it is one big grave, the grave of a +city, and the grave of many of its inhabitants. +Here, at a corner house, nine ladies lie under the +piled-up débris that once made their home. There +some soldiers met their death, and some crumbling +bricks are heaped over them too. The houses are +all fallen—some outer walls remain, but I hardly +saw a roof left—and everywhere there are empty +window-frames and skeleton rafters.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">NIEUPORT</div> + +<p>I never knew so surely that a town can live and +can die, and it set one wondering whether Life +means a thing as a whole and Death simply disintegration. +A perfect crystal, chemists tell us, has +the elements of life in it and may be said to live. +Destruction and decay mean death; separation and +disintegration mean death. In this way we die, a +crystal dies, a flower or a city dies. Nieuport is +dead. There isn't a heart-beat left to throb in it. +Thousands and thousands of shells have fallen into +it,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> and at night the nightingale sings there, and by +day the river flows gently under the ruined bridge. +Every tree in a wood near by is torn and beheaded; +hardly one has the top remaining. The new green +pushes out amongst the blackened trunks.</p> + +<p>One speaks low in Nieuport, the place is so +horribly dead.</p> + +<p>Mr. Bevan showed me a shell-hole 42 feet across, +made by one single "soixante-quinze" shell. +Every field is pitted with holes, and where there +are stretches of pale-coloured mud the round pits +dotted all over it give one the impression of an +immense Gruyère cheese. The streets, heaped +with débris, and with houses fallen helplessly forward +into their midst, were full of sunshine. From +ruined cottages—whose insecure walls tottered—one +saw here and there some Zouaves or a little +French "marin" appear. Most of these ran out +with letters in their hands for us to post. Heaven +knows what they can have to write about from +that grave!</p> + +<p>Some beautiful pillars of the cathedral still stand, +and the tower, full of holes, has not yet bent its +head. Lieutenant Shoppe, R.N., sits up there all +day, and takes observations, with the shells knocking +gaily against the walls. One day the tower +will fall or its stones will be pierced, and then Lieutenant +Shoppe, R.N., will be killed, as the Belgian +"observateur" was killed at Oostkerke the other +day. He still hangs there across a beam for all the +world to see. His arms are stretched out, and his +body lies head downwards, and no one can go near +the dead Belgian because the tower is too unsafe +now.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> One day perhaps it will fall altogether and +bury him.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, in the tower of the ruined cathedral +at Nieuport Shoppe sits in his shirt-sleeves, with his +telephone beside him and his observation instruments. +His small staff are with him. They are +immensely interested in the range of a gun and the +accuracy of a hit. I believe they do not think of +anything else. No doubt the tower shakes a great +deal when a shell hits it, and no doubt the number +of holes in its sides is daily becoming more +numerous. Each morning that Shoppe leaves +home to spend his day in the tower he runs an +excellent chance of being killed, and in the evening +he returns and eats a good dinner in rather an uncomfortable +hotel.</p> + +<p>In the cathedral, and amongst its crumbling +battered aisles, a strange peace rests. The pitiful +columns of the church stand here and there—the +roof has long since gone. On its most sheltered +side is the little graveyard, filled with crosses, +where the dead lie. Here and there a shell has +entered and torn a corpse from its resting-place, +and bones lie scattered. On other graves a few +simple flowers are laid.</p> + +<p>We went to see the dim cellars which form the +two "postes au secours." In the inner recess of +one a doctor has a bed, in the outer cave some +soldiers were eating food. There is no light even +during the day except from the doorway. At +Nieuport the Germans put in 3,000 shells in one +day. Nothing is left. If there ever was anything +to loot, it has been looted. One doesn't know what +lies<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> under the débris. Here one sees the inside of +a piano and a few twisted strings, and there a metal +umbrella-stand. I saw one wrought-iron sign +hanging from the falling walls of an inn.</p> + +<p>Mr. Bevan and I wandered about in the unearthly +quiet, which persisted even when the guns began to +blaze away close by us, whizzing shells over our +heads, and we walked down to the river, and saw +the few boards which are all that remain of the +bridge. Afterwards a German shell landed with +its unpleasant noise in the middle of the street; +but we had wandered up a by-way, and so escaped +it by a minute or less.</p> + +<p>In a little burned house, where only a piece of +blackened wall remained, I found a little crucifix +which impressed me very much—it stood out +against the smoke-stained walls with a sort of +grandeur of pity about it. The legs had been shot +away or burned, but "the hands were stretched out +still."</p> + +<p>As we came away firing began all round about, +and we saw the toss of smoke as the shells fell.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">STEENKERKE</div> + +<p><i>31 May.</i>—We went to Steenkerke yesterday and +called on Mrs. Knocker, and saw a terrible infirmary, +which must be put right. It isn't fit for dogs.</p> + +<p>At the station to-day our poor Irishman died. +Ah, it was terrible! His lungs never recovered +from the gas, and he breathed his last difficult +breath at 5 o'clock.</p> + +<p>In the evening a Zeppelin flew overhead on its +way to England.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">NIGHTINGALES</div> + +<p>There is a nightingale in a wood near here. He +seems to sing louder and more purely the heavier +the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> fighting that is going on. When men are +murdering each other he loses himself in a rapture, +of song, recalling all the old joyous things which +one used to know.</p> + +<p>The poetry of life seems to be over. The war +songs are forced and foolish. There is no time for +reading, and no one looks at pictures, but the +nightingale sings on, and the long-ago spirit of +youth looks out through Time's strong bars, and +speaks of evenings in old, dim woods at home, and +of girlish, splendid drives home from some dance +where "he" was, when we watched the dawn +break, and saw our mother sleeping in the carriage, +and wondered what it would be like not to "thrill" +all the time, and to sleep when the nightingale was +singing.</p> + +<p>Later there came the time when the song of the +throbbing nightingale made one impatient, because +it sang in intolerable silence, and one ached for the +roar of things, and for the clash of endeavour and +for the strain of purpose. Peace was at a discount +then, and struggle seemed to be the eternal good. +The silent woods had no word for one, the nightingale +was only a mate singing a love-song, and one +wanted something more than that.</p> + +<p>And afterwards, when the struggle and the strain +were given one in abundant measure, the song of +the nightingale came in the lulls that occurred in +one's busy life. One grew to connect it with coffee +out on the lawn in some houses of surpassing comfort, +where (years and years ago) one dressed for +dinner, and a crinkly housemaid brought hot water +to one's room. The song went on above the smug +comfort<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> of things, and the amusing conversation, +and the smell of good cigars. Within, we saw +some pleasant drawing-room, with lamps and a big +table set with candles and cards, and we felt that +the nightingale provided a very charming orchestra. +We listened to it as we listened to amusing conversation, +with a sense of comfortable enjoyment and +rest. Why talk of the time when it sang of breaking +hearts and high endeavour never satisfied, and +things which no one ever knew or guessed except +oneself?</p> + +<p>It sings now above the sound of death and of +tears. Sometimes I think to myself that God has +sent his angel to open the prison doors when I hear +that bird in the little wood close beside the tram-way +line.</p> + +<p>On Thursday, June 3rd, I drove in the "bug" +to Boulogne, and took the steamer to England. +I went through a nasty time in Belgium, but now +a good deal of queer affection is shown me, and I +believe they all rather like me in the corps.</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<p>The following brief impression of Miss Macnaughtan's +work at the soup-kitchen forms the most +appropriate conclusion to her story of her experiences +in Belgium. She cut it out of some paper, and +sent it home to a friend in England, and we seem +to learn from it—more than from any words of her +own—how much she did to help our Allies in their +hour of need:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"It was dark when my car stopped at the little +station of Adinkerke, where I had been invited to +visit a soup-kitchen established there by a Scotchwoman.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> +In peace she is a distinguished author; +in war she is being a mother to such of the Belgian +Army as are lucky enough to pass her way. I can +see her now, against a background of big soup-boilers +and cooking-stoves, handing out woollen +gloves and mufflers to the men who were to be on +sentry duty along the line that night. It was +bitterly cold, and the comforts were gratefully +received.</p> + +<p>"For a long time this most versatile lady made +every drop of the soup that was prepared for the +men herself, and she has, so a Belgian military +doctor says, saved more lives than he has with her +timely cups of hot, nourishing food. It is only the +most seriously wounded men who are taken to the +field hospital, the others are carried straight to the +railway-station, and have to wait there, sometimes +for many hours, till a train can take them on. +Even then trains carrying the wounded have constantly +to be shunted to let troop trains through. +But, thanks to the enterprise and hard work of this +clever little lady, there is always a plentiful supply +of hot food ready for the men who, weak from loss +of blood, are often besides faint with hunger."</p></div> + + + +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>PART II</h2> + +<h2><a name="AT_HOME" id="AT_HOME"></a>AT HOME +<span class="totoc"><a href="#CONTENTS">ToC</a></span></h2> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> + +<h3>HOW THE MESSAGE WAS DELIVERED</h3> + + +<p><i>October, 1915.</i>—So much has happened since I +came home from Flanders in June, and I have not +had one moment in which to write of it. I found +my house occupied when I returned, so I went to +the Petrograd Hotel and stayed there, going out +of London for Sundays.</p> + +<p>Everyone I met in England seemed absorbed in +pale children with adenoids. No one cared much +about the war. Children in houses nowadays +require food at weird hours, not roast mutton and +a good plain Christian pudding, but, "You will +excuse our beginning, I know, dear, Jane has to +have her massage after lunch, and Tom has to do +his exercises, and baby has to learn to breathe." +This one has its ears strapped, and that one is +"nervous" and must be "understood," and nothing +is talked of but children. My mother would never +have a doctor in the house; "nervousness" was +called bad temper, and was dosed, and stooping +was called "a trick," and was smacked. The +children I now see eat far too much, and when they +finish<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> off lunch with gravy drunk out of tumblers +it makes me feel very unwell.</p> + +<p>I went to the Breitmeyers, at Rushton Hall, +Kettering; it's a fine place, but I was too tired to +enjoy anything but a bed. The next Sunday I +stayed at Chenies, with the Duchess of Bedford—always +a favourite resort of mine—and another +week I went to Welwyn.</p> + +<p>I met a few old men at these places, but no one +else. Everyone is at the front. The houses +generally have wounded soldiers in them, and these +play croquet with a nurse on the lawn, or smoke in +the sun. None of them want to go back to fight. +They seem tired, and talk of the trenches as "proper +'ell."</p> + +<p>There is always a little too much walking about +at a "week-end." One feels tired and stiff on +Monday. I well remember last summer having +to take people three times to a distant water +garden—talking all the time, too! People are +so kind in making it pleasant that they wear +one out.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">ERITH</div> + +<p>All the time I was in London I was preparing +my campaign of lecturing. I began with Vickers-Maxim +works at Erith, on Wednesday, 9th June, +and on the 8th I went to stay with the Cameron +Heads. There was great bustle and preparation +for my lecture, Press people in the house at all +hours of the day, and so on. A great bore for my +poor friends; but they were so good about it, and +I loved being with them.</p> + +<p>The lecture was rather a red-letter occasion for +me, everyone praising, the Press very attentive, +etc.,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> etc. The audience promised well for future +things, and the emotion that was stirred nearly +bowled myself over. In some of the hushes that +came one could hear men crying. The Scott +Gattys and a few of my own friends came to +"stand by," and we all drove down to Erith in +motor-cars, and returned to supper with the Vickers +at 10.30.</p> + +<p>The next day old Vickers sent for me and asked +me to name my own price for my lectures, but I +couldn't mix money up with the message, so I +refused all pay, and feel happy that I did so. I +can't, and won't, profit by this war. I'd rather +lose—I am losing—but that doesn't matter. +Nothing matters much now. The former things +are swept away, and all the old barriers are disappearing. +Our old gods of possession and wealth +are crumbling, and class distinctions don't count, +and even life and death are pretty much the same +thing.</p> + +<p>The Jews say the Messiah will come after the +war. I think He is here already—but on a cross +as of yore!</p> + +<p>I went up to Glasgow to make arrangements +there, and my task wasn't an easy one. Somehow +I knew that I must speak, that I must arouse +slackers, and tell rotters about what is going on. +One goes forth (led in a way), and only then does +one realise that one is going in unasked to ship-building +yards and munition sheds and docks, and +that one is quite a small woman, alone, and up +against a big thing.</p> + +<p>Always the answer I got was the same: "The +men<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> are not working; forty per cent. are slackers. +The output of shells is not what it ought to be, but +they <i>won't</i> listen!"</p> + +<p>In the face of this I arranged seven meetings in +seven days, to take place early in August, and then +I went back to give my lecture in the Queen's Hall, +London. I took the large Hall, because if one has +a message to deliver one had better deliver it to as +many people as possible. It was rather a breathless +undertaking, but people turned up splendidly, +and I had a full house. Sir F. Lloyd gave me the +band of the Coldstream Guards, and things went +with a good swing.</p> + +<p>I am still wondering how I did it. The whole +"campaign" has already got rather an unreal atmosphere +about it, and often, after crowded meetings, +I have come home and lain in the dark and have +seen nothing but a sea of faces, and eyes all turned +my way. It has been a most curious and unexpected +experience, but England did not realise the +war, and she did not realise the wave of heroism +that is sweeping over the world, and I had to tell +about it.</p> + +<p>Well, my lectures went on—Erith, Queen's Hall, +Sheffield (a splendid meeting, 3,000 people inside +the hall and 300 turned away at the door!), Barrow-in-Furness. +I gave two lectures at Barrow, at 3 and +7.30. They seemed very popular. In the evening +quite a demonstration—pipe band playing "Auld +lang syne," and much cheering. After that Newcastle, +and back to the south again to speak there. +Everywhere I took my magic-lantern and showed +my pictures, and I told "good stories" to attract +people<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> to the meetings, although my heart was, +and is, nearly breaking all the time.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">GLASGOW</div> + +<p>Then I began the Glasgow campaign—Parkhead, +Whiteinch, Rose-Bank, Dumbarton, Greenock, +Beardmore's, Denny's, Armour's, etc., etc. Everywhere +there were big audiences, and although I +would have spoken to two listeners gladly, I was +still more glad to see the halls filled. The cheers +of horny-handed workmen when they are really +roused just get me by the throat till I can't speak +for a minute or two!</p> + +<p>At one place I spoke from a lorry in the dinner-hour. +All the men, with blackened faces, crowded +round the car, and others swung from the iron +girders, while some perched, like queer bronze +images, on pieces of machinery. They were all +very intent, and very polite and courteous, no +interruptions at any of the meetings. A keen +interest was shown in the war pictures, and the +cheers were deafening sometimes.</p> + +<p>After Glasgow I went to dear Clemmie Waring's, +at Lennel, and found her house full of convalescent +officers, and she herself very happy with them and +her new baby. I really wanted to rest, and meant +to enjoy five days of repose; but I gave a lecture +the first night, and then had a sort of breakdown +and took to my bed. However, that had to be got +over, and I went down to Wales at the end of the +week. The Butes gave me their own rooms at +Cardiff Castle, and a nice housekeeper looked +after me.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">CARDIFF</div> + +<p>There followed a strange fortnight in that ugly +old fortress, with its fine stone-work and the +execrable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> decorations covering every inch of it. +The days passed oddly. I did a little writing, +and I saw my committee, whom I like. Colonel +Dennis is an excellent fellow, and so are Mr. +Needle, Mr. Vivian <a class="correction" title="index has "Rees"">Reece</a>, and Mr. Harrison. A +Mr. Howse acted as secretary.</p> + +<p>The first day I gave a dock-gate meeting, and +spoke from a lorry, and that night I had my great +meeting at Cardiff. Sir Frank Younghusband +came down for it, and the Mayor took the chair. +The audience was enthusiastic, and every place was +filled. At one moment they all rose to their feet, +and holding up their hands swore to fight for the +right till right was won. It was one of the scenes +I shall always remember.</p> + +<p>Every day after that I used to have tea and an +egg at 5 o'clock, and a motor would come with one +of my committee to take me to different places of +meeting. It was generally up the Rhondda Valley +that we went, and I came to know well that westward +drive, with the sun setting behind the hills +and turning the Taff river to gold. Every night +we went a little further and a little higher—Aberdare, +Aberystwyth, Toney Pandy, Tonepentre, +etc., etc. I gave fourteen lectures in thirteen days. +Generally, I spoke in chapels, and from the pulpit, +and this seemed to give me the chance I wanted to +speak all my mind to these people, and to ask them +and teach them what Power, and Possession, and +Freedom really meant. Oh, it was wonderful! +The rapt faces of the miners, the hush of the +big buildings, and then the sudden burst of +cheering!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> +At one meeting there was a bumptious-looking +man, with a bald head, whom I remember. He +took up his position just over the clock in the +gallery. He listened critically, talked a good deal, +and made remarks. I began to speak straight at +him, without looking at him, and quite suddenly I +saw him, as I spoke of our men at the war, cover +his face and burst into tears.</p> + +<p>The children were the only drawback. They +were attracted by the idea of the magic-lantern, and +used to come to the meetings and keep older +people out. My lectures were not meant for +children, and I had to adopt the plan of showing +the pictures first and then telling the youngsters +to go, and settling down to a talk with the older +ones, who always remained behind voluntarily.</p> + +<p>We had some times which I can never forget; +nor can I forget those dark drives from far up in +the hills, and the mists in the valley, and my own +aching fatigue as I got back about midnight. From +5 till 12.30 every night I was on the stretch.</p> + +<p>In the day-time I used to wander round the +garden. One always meets someone whom one +knows. I had lunch with the Tylers one day, and +tea with the Plymouths. It was still, bright autumn +weather, and the trees were gold in the ugly garden +with the black river running through it. I got +a few lessons in motor driving, and I spoke at the +hospital one afternoon. I took the opportunity of +getting a dress made at rather a good tailor's, and +time passed in a manner quite solitary till the +evenings.</p> + +<p>Never before have I spent a year of so much +solitude,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> and yet I have been with people during +my work. I think I know now what thousands of +men and women living alone and working are +feeling. I wish I could help them. There won't +be many young marriages now. What are we to +do for girls all alone?</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center"><i>To Mrs. Keays-Young.</i></p> + +<p class="lh_ind0"><span class="smcap">Cardiff Castle, Cardiff,</span></p> +<p class="lh_ind2"><i>31 August, 1915.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dearest Baby,</span></p> + +<p>Many thanks for your letter, which I got on +my way through London. I spent one night there +to see about some work I am having done in the +house.</p> + +<p>I have a drawer quite full of press-cuttings, and +I do not know what is in any of them. It is +difficult to choose anything of interest, as they are +all a good deal alike, and all sound my trumpet +very loudly; but I enclose one specimen.</p> + +<p>We had meetings every night in Glasgow. +They were mostly badly organised and well +attended. Here I have an agent arranging everything, +and two of my meetings have been enormous. +The first was at the dock-gates in the open air, and +the second in the Town Hall. The band of the +Welch Regiment played, and Mr. Glover conducted, +but nothing is the same, of course. Alan +is at Porthcawl, and came to see me this morning.</p> + +<p>The war news could hardly be worse, and yet I +am told by men who get sealed information from +the Foreign Office that worse is coming.</p> + +<p>Poor Russia! She wants help more than anyone.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> +Her wounded are quite untended. I go there +next month.</p> + +<p>The King of the Belgians has made me Chevalier +de l'Ordre de Léopold.</p> + +<p class="lf_ind6">Love to all.</p> +<p class="lf_sal">Yours ever,</p> +<p class="lf_sig">S.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Press-cutting enclosed in Miss Macnaughtan's +letter:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><h2>"STORIES OF THE WAR."</h2> + +<h3>CARDIFF LECTURE BY MISS MACNAUGHTAN.</h3> + +<h3>AUTHORESS'S APPEAL.</h3> + +<p>TESTING-TIME OF NATIONAL CHARACTER.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">A CROWDED MEETING</div> + +<p>A large and enthusiastic audience assembled at +the Park-hall, Cardiff, on Monday evening, to hear +and see Miss Macnaughtan's "Stories and Pictures +of the War." Miss Macnaughtan is a well-known +authoress, whose works have attained a world-wide +reputation, and, in addition to her travels in +almost every corner of the globe, she has had actual +experience of warfare at the bombardment of Rio, +in the Balkans, the South African War, and, since +September last, in Belgium and Flanders. In her +capacity as ministrant to wounded soldiers she has +gained a unique experience of the horrors of war, +and in order to bring home the realities of the situation, +at the instigation of Lady Bute, she consented +to address a number of meetings in South Wales.</p> + +<p>At the meeting on Monday night the Lord Mayor +(Alderman J. T. Richards) presided, and in introducing +Miss Macnaughtan to the audience announced +that for her services in Belgium the +honour of the Order of Leopold had been conferred +upon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> her. (Applause.) We were engaged, he said, +in fighting a war of right. We were not fighting +only for the interests of England and our Empire, +but we were fighting for the interests of humanity +at large. ("Hear, hear.")</p> + +<p>Miss Macnaughtan, in the course of her address, +referred to the origin of the war, and how suddenly +it came upon the people of this nation, who were, +for the most part, engaged in summer holidays at +the time. She knew what was going on at the +front, and knew what the Welch Regiment had been +doing, and "I must tell you," she added, "of the +splendid way in which your regiment has behaved, +and how proud Cardiff must be of it." We knew +very well now that this war had been arranged by +Germany for many years. The Germans used to +profess exceeding kindness to us, and were received +on excellent terms by our Royal House, but the +veil was drawn away from that nation's face, and +we had it revealed as an implacable foe. The +Germans had spoken for years in their own country +about "The Day," and now "The Day" had +arrived, and it was for everyone a day of judgment, +because it was a test of character. We had to put +ourselves to the test. We knew that for some +time England had not been at her best. Her great +heart was beating true all the time, but there +had crept into England a sort of national coldness +and selfishness, and a great deal too much seriousness +in the matter of money and money-getting. +Although this was discounted in great measure by +her generosity, we appeared to the world at large +as a greedy and money-getting nation.</p> + +<p>However this might be, in all parts of the world +the word of an Englishman was still as good as his +bond. ("Hear, hear.") Yet England, with its +strikes and quarrels and class hatred, and one thing +and another, was not at its best. It was well to +admit<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> that, just as they admitted the faults of those +they loved best.</p> + +<p>Had any one of them failed to rally round the +flag? Had they kept anything back in this great +war? She hoped not. The war had tested us more +than anything else, and we had responded greatly +to it; and the young manhood had come out in a +way that was remarkable. We knew very well that +when the war was begun we were quite unprepared +for it; but she would tell them this, that our army, +although small, was the finest army that ever took +the field. (Applause.)</p> + +<p>Miss Macnaughtan then related a number of +interesting incidents, one of which was, that when +a party of wounded Englishmen came to a station +where she was tending the Belgian wounded, every +wounded Belgian gave up his bed to accommodate +an English soldier. The idea of a German occupation +of English soil, she said, was the idea of a catastrophe +that was unspeakable. People read things in +the papers and thought they were exaggerated, but +she had seen them, and she would show photographs +of ruined Belgium which would convince them of +what the Germans were now doing in the name of +God. However unprepared we were for war, the +wounded had been well cared for, and she thought +there never was a war in which the care of the +wounded had been so well managed or so efficient. +(Applause.) They had to be thankful that there had +been no terrible epidemic, and she could not speak +too highly of the work of the nurses and doctors in +the performance of their duties. This was the time +for every man to do his duty, and strain every nerve +and muscle to bring the war to an end and get the +boys home again. (Applause.)</p> + +<div class="sidenote">SIR FRANCIS YOUNGHUSBAND, K.C.I.E.</div> + +<p>Sir Francis Younghusband, K.C.I.E., spoke of +Miss Macnaughtan as a very old friend, whom he +had met in many parts of the Empire. In this +crisis<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> she might well have stayed at home in her +comfortable residence in London, but she had +sacrificed her own personal comforts in order to +assist others. They must realise that this war was +something much more than a war of defence of +their homes. It was a fight on behalf of the whole +of humanity. A staggering blow had been dealt by +our relentless enemy at Belgium, which had been +knocked down and trampled upon, and Germany +had also dealt blow after blow at humanity by the +use of poison-gas, the bombardment of seaside towns, +and bombs thrown on defenceless places by +Zeppelins. She had thrust aside all those rights of +humanity which we had cherished as a nation as +most dear to our hearts. What we were now +fighting for was right, and he would put to them a +resolution that we would fight for right till right +had won. In response to an appeal for the endorsement +of his sentiments the audience stood en masse, +and with upraised hands shouted "Aye." It was a +stirring moment, and must have been gratifying to +the authoress, who has devoted so much of her time +and energy to the comfort of the wounded +soldiers.</p> + +<p>The Lord Mayor then proposed a vote of thanks +to Miss Macnaughtan for her address, and this was +carried by acclamation.</p> + +<p>Miss Macnaughtan briefly responded, and then +proceeded to illustrate many of the scenes she had +witnessed by lantern-slides, showing the results of +bombardments and the ruin of some of the fairest +domains of Belgium and France.</p> + +<p>The provision of stewards was arranged by the +Cardiff Chamber of Trade, under the direction +of the President (Mr. G. Clarry). During the +evening the band of the 3rd Welch Regiment, +under the conductorship of Bandmaster K. S. +Glover, gave selections.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">POISON-GAS</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> +A statement having been made that Miss Macnaughtan +was the first to discover a remedy for the +poison-gas used by the Germans, a <i>Western Mail</i> +reporter interviewed the lady before the lecture on +her experiences in this direction. She replied, that +when the first batch of men came in from the +trenches suffering from the effects of the gas, the +first thing they asked was for something to drink, to +take the horrible taste out of their mouths. She +obtained a couple of bottles of whisky from the +barge of an American lady, and some distilled +water, and gave this to the soldiers, who appeared +to be greatly relieved. Whenever possible, she had +adopted the same course, but she was unaware that +the remedy had been applied by the military authorities. +Even this method of relieving their sufferings, +however, was rejected by a large number of young +soldiers, on the ground that they were teetotallers, +but the Belgian doctors had permitted its use +amongst their men.</p></div> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<div class="blockquot"><h3>SHOULD THE GERMANS COME.</h3> + +<p>FORETASTE OF HORRORS FURNISHED BY BELGIUM.</p> + +<p>During the dinner-hour Miss Macnaughtan gave +an address to workmen at the Bute Docks. An +improvised platform was arranged at the back of +the Seamen's Institute, and some hundreds of men +gathered to hear the story that Miss Macnaughtan +had to give of the war. Colonel C. S. Denniss +presided, and amongst those present were Messrs. +T. Vivian Rees, John Andrews, W. Cocks, A. +Hope, S. Fisher, and Robinson Smith.</p> + +<p>Colonel Denniss, in a few introductory remarks, +referred to Miss Macnaughtan's reputation as a +writer, and stated that since the outbreak of war +she had devoted herself to the noble work of helping +the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> wounded soldiers in Belgium and France. She +had come to Cardiff to tell the working-men what +she had seen, with the object, if possible, of stimulating +them to help forward the great cause we were +fighting for.</p> + +<p>Miss Macnaughtan said she had been speaking in +many parts of the country, but she was especially +proud to address a meeting of Welsh working-men. +Besides coming of a long line of Welsh ancestors, +her brother-in-law, Colonel Young, was in command +of the 9th Welch Battalion at the front, and she +had also four nephews serving in the Welch Regiment. +Only the day before Colonel Young had +written to her: "The Welshman is the most +intensely patriotic man that I know, and it is +always the same thing, 'Stick it, Welch.' His +patriotism is splendid, and I do not want to fight +with a better man." Miss Macnaughtan then +explained that she was not asking for funds, and +was not speaking for employers or owners. She +simply wished to tell them her experiences of the +war as she had seen it, and to describe the heroism +which was going on at the front. If they looked +at the war from the point of view of men going out to +kill each other they had a wrong conception of what +was going on. She had been asked to speak of the +conditions which might prevail should the Germans +reach this country. She did not feel competent to +speak on that subject, as the whole idea of Germans +in this country seemed absolutely inconceivable. +If the Germans were to land on our shores all +the waters which surrounded this isle would not +wash the land clean. She knew what the Germans +were, and had seen the wreck they had made of +Belgium and part of France. She knew what the +women and children had suffered, and how the +churches had been desecrated and demolished. It +was said that this was a war of humanity, but she +believed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> it was a war of right against wrong; and +if she were asked when the war would finish, she +could only say that we would fight it right on to the +end until we were victorious.</p> + +<p>The Germans were beaten already, and had been +beaten from the day they gave up their honour. +She spoke of the heroism of the troops, and stated +that since September last she had been running +a soup-kitchen for the wounded. In this humble +vocation she had had an opportunity of gauging the +spirit of the soldiers. She had seen them sick, +wounded, and dying, but had never known +them give in. Why should humble villages in +France without soldiers in them be shelled? That +was Germany, and that was what they saw. The +thing was almost inconceivable, but she had seen +helpless women and children brought to the +hospitals, maimed and wounded by the cruel +German shells. After this war England was going +to be a better country than before. Up to now +there had been a national selfishness which was +growing very strong, and there was a terrible love +of money, which, after all, was of very little account +unless it was used in the proper direction. She +could tell them stories of Belgians who had had to +fire upon their own women and children who were +being marched in front of German troops. The +power of Germany had to be crushed. The spirit +of England and Wales was one in this great war, +and they would not falter until they had emerged +triumphant. (Applause.)</p> + +<div class="sidenote">A CLARION CALL</div> + +<p>Mr. Robinson Smith said the clarion call had +been sounded, and they were prepared, if necessary, +to give their last shilling, their last drop of blood, +and their very selves, body, soul, and spirit, to +fight for right till right had won. (Applause.)</p> + +<p>Cheers were given for the distinguished authoress, +and the proceedings terminated.</p></div> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> +After Cardiff (and a most cordial send-off from +my committee) I came back to London, and lectured +at Eton, at the Polytechnic, and various other +places, while all the time I was preparing to go to +Russia, and I was also writing.</p> + +<p>In the year that has passed my time has been +fully occupied. To begin with, when the war +broke out I studied district-nursing in Walworth +for a month. I attended committees, and arranged +to go to Belgium, got my kit, and had a good deal +of business to arrange in the way of house-letting, +etc., etc. Afterwards, I went to Antwerp, till the +siege and the bombardment; then followed the +flight to Ostend; after that a further flight to +Furnes. Then came the winter of my work, day +and night at the soup-kitchen for the wounded, +a few days at home in January, then back again +and to work at Adinkerke till June, when I came +home to lecture.</p> + +<p>During the year I have brought out four books, +I have given thirty-five lectures, and written both +stories and articles. I have gone from town to +town in England, Scotland, and Wales, and I have +had a good deal of anxiety and much business +at home. I have paid a few visits, but not restful +ones, and I have written all my own correspondence, +as I have not had a secretary. I have collected +funds for my work, and sent off scores of +begging letters. Often I have begun work at 5.30 +a.m., and I have not rested all day. As I am not +very young this seems to me a pretty strenuous +time!</p> + +<div class="sidenote">THE DEATH OF YOUTH</div> + +<p>Now I have let my house again, and am off "into +the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> unknown" in Russia! I shouldn't really mind +a few days' rest before we begin any definite work. +Behind everyone I suppose at this time lurks the +horror of war, the deadly fear for one's dearest; +and, above all, one feels—at least I do—that one is +always, and quite palpably, in the shadow of the +death of youth—beautiful youth, happy and healthy +and free. Always I seem to see the white faces of +boys turned up to the sky, and I hear their cries +and see the agony which joyous youth was never +meant to bear. They are too young for it, far too +young; but they lie out on the field between the +trenches, and bite the mud in their frenzy of pain; +and they call for their mothers, and no one comes, +and they call to their friends, but no one hears. +There is a roar of battle and of bursting shells, and +who can listen to a boy's groans and his shrieks of +pain? This is war.</p> + +<p>A nation or a people want more sea-board or +more trade, so they begin to kill youth, and to +torture and to burn, and God himself may ask, +"Where is my beautiful flock?" No one answers. +It is war. We must expect a "list of casualties." +"The Germans have lost more than we have done;" +"We must go on, even if the war lasts ten years;" +"A million more men are needed"—thus the fools +called men talk! But Youth looks up with +haggard eyes, and Youth, grown old, learns that +Death alone is merciful.</p> + +<p>One sees even in soldiers' jokes that the thought +of death is not far off. I said to one man, "You +have had a narrow squeak," and he replied, "I +don't mind if I get there first so long as I can stoke +up<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> for those Germans." Another, clasping the hand +of his dead Captain, said, "Put plenty of sandbags +round heaven, sir, and don't let a German through."</p> + +<p>The other day, when the forward movement was +made in France and Belgium, Charles's Regiment, +the 9th Welch, was told to attack at a certain +point, which could only be reached across an open +space raked by machine-gun fire. They were not +given the order to move for twelve days, during +which time the men hardly slept. When the +charge had to be made the roar of guns made +speaking quite impossible, so directions were given +by sending up rockets. When the rockets appeared, +not a single man delayed an instant in making the +attack. One young officer, in the trench where +Charles was, had a football, and this he flung over +the parapet, and shouting, "Come on, boys!" he +and the men of the regiment played football in the +open and in front of the guns. Right across the +gun-raked level they kicked the ball, and when +they reached the enemy's lines only a few of them +were left.</p> + +<p>Charles wrote, "I am too old to see boys killed."</p> + +<p>Colonel Walton, with a handful of his regiment, +was the only officer to get through the three lines +of the enemy's trenches, and he and his men dug +themselves in. Just in front of them where they +paused, he saw a fine young officer come along the +road on a motor bicycle, carrying despatches. The +next minute a high-explosive shell burst, and, to +use his own words, "There was not enough of the +young officer to put on a threepenny bit." Always +men tell me there is nothing left to bury. One +minute<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> there is a splendid piece of upstanding, +vigorous manhood, and the next there is no finding +one piece of him to lay in the sod.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">A LESSON FOR TURKS</div> + +<p>The Turks seem to have forsaken their first +horrible and devilish cruelties towards English +prisoners. They have been taught a lesson by the +Australians, who took some prisoners up to the top +of a ridge and rolled them down into the Turks' +trenches like balls, firing on them as they rolled. +Horrible! but after that Turkish cruelties ceased.</p> + +<p>Our own men see red since the Canadians were +crucified, and I fancy no prisoners were taken for a +long time after. We "censor" this or that in the +newspapers, but nothing will censor men's tongues, +and there is a terrible and awful tale of suffering +and death and savagery going on now. Like a +ghastly dream we hear of trenches taken, and the +cries of men go up, "Mercy, comrade, mercy!" +Sometimes they plead, poor caught and trapped +and pitiful human beings, that they have wives and +children who love them. The slaughter goes on, +the bayonet rends open the poor body that someone +loved, then comes the internal gush of blood, and +another carcase is flung into the burying trench, +with some lime on the top of it to prevent a smell +of rotting flesh.</p> + +<p>My God, what does it all mean? Are men so +mad? And why are they killing all our best and +bravest? Our first army is gone, and surely such +a company never before took the field! Outmatched +by twenty to one, they stuck it at Mons +and on the Aisne, and saved Paris by a miracle. +All my old friends fell then—men near my own +age,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> whom I have known in many climes—Eustace +Crawley, Victor Brooke, the Goughs, and other +splendid men. Now the sons of my friends are +falling fast—Duncan Sim's boy, young Wilson, +Neville Strutt, and scores of others. I know one +case in which four brothers have fallen; another, +where twins of nineteen died side by side; and this +one has his eyes blown out, and that one has his leg +torn off, and another goes mad; and boys, creeping +back to the base holding an arm on, or bewildered +by a bullet through the brain, wander out of their +way till a piece of shrapnel or torn edge of shell +finds them, and they fall again, with their poor +boyish faces buried in the mud!</p> + +<p>Mr. —— dined with us last night. He had been +talking of his brother who was killed, and he said: "I +think it makes a difference if you belong to a family +which has always given its lives to the country. +We are accustomed to make these sacrifices."</p> + +<p>Thus bravely in the light of day, but when evening +came and we sat together, then we knew just +what the life of the boy had cost him. They tell +us—these defrauded broken-hearted ones—just how +tall the lad was, and how good to look at! That +seems to me so sad—as if one reckoned one's love +by inches! And yet it is the beauty of youth that +I mourn also, and its horribly lonely death.</p> + +<p>"They never got him further than the dressing-station," +Mr. —— said; "but—he would always put +up a fight, you know—he lived for four days. No, +there was never any hope. Half the back of his +head was shattered. But he put up a fight. My +brother would always do that."</p> + + + +<hr class="full" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p> +<h2>PART III</h2> + +<h2>RUSSIA AND THE PERSIAN FRONT</h2> + + +<hr class="full" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III_I" id="CHAPTER_III_I"></a>CHAPTER I +<span class="totoc"><a href="#CONTENTS">ToC</a></span></h2> + +<h3>PETROGRAD</h3> + + +<p>Mrs. Wynne, Mr. Bevan, and I left London for +Russia on October 16, 1915. We are attached provisionally +to the Anglo-Russian hospital, with a stipulation +that we are at liberty to proceed to the front +with our ambulances as soon as we can get permission +to do so. We understand that the Russian wounded +are suffering terribly, and getting no doctors, nurses, +or field ambulances. We crossed from Newcastle +to Christiania in a Norwegian boat, the <i>Bessheim</i>. +It was supposed that in this ship there was less +chance of being stopped, torpedoed, or otherwise +inconvenienced.</p> + +<p>We reached Christiania after a wonderfully calm +crossing, and went to the Grand Hotel at 1 a.m. +No rooms to be had, so we went on to the Victoria—a +good old house, not fashionable, but with a +nice air about it, and some solid comforts. We +left on Wednesday, the 20th, at 7 a.m. This was +something of a feat, as we have twenty-four boxes +with us. I only claim four, and feel as if I might +have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> brought more, but everyone has a different +way of travelling, and luggage is often objected to.</p> + +<p>Indeed, I think this matter of travelling is one of +the most curious in the world. I cannot understand +why it is that to get into a train or a boat +causes men and women to leave off restraint and to +act in a primitive way. Why should the companionship +of the open road be the supreme test of +friendship? and why should one feel a certain fear +of getting to know people too well on a journey? +The last friends I travelled with were very careful +indeed, and we used to reckon up accounts and +divide the price of a bottle of "vin ordinaire" +equally. My friends to-day seem inclined to do +themselves very well, and to scatter largesse +everywhere.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">STOCKHOLM</div> + +<p><i>Stockholm. 21 October.</i>—After a long day in +the train we reached Stockholm yesterday evening, +and went to the usual "Grand Hotel." This time +it is very "grand," and very expensive. Mr. Bevan +has a terrible pink boudoir-bedroom, which costs +£3 per night, and I have a small room on the +fourth floor, which costs 17s. 6d. without a bath. +There is rather a nice court in the middle of the +house, with flowers and a band and tables for dinner, +but the sight of everyone "doing himself well" +always makes me feel a little sick. The wines and +liqueurs, and the big cigars at two shillings each, +and the look of repletion on men's faces as they +listen to the band after being fed, somewhat disgust +me.</p> + +<p>One's instinct is to dislike luxury, but in war-time +it seems horrible. We ourselves will probably +have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> to rough it badly soon, so I don't mind, but +it's a side of life that seems to me as beastly as +anything I know. Fortunately, the luxury of an +hotel is minimised by the fact that there are no +"necessaries," and one lives in an atmosphere of +open trunks and bags, with things pulled out of +them, which counterbalances crystal electric fittings +and marble floors.</p> + +<p>We rested all this morning, lunched out, and in +the afternoon went to have tea with the Crown +Prince and Princess of Sweden. They were very +delightful. The British Minister's wife, Lady +Isobel Howard, went with us. The Princess had +just finished reading my "Diary of the War," and +was very nice about it. The children, who came +in to tea, were the prettiest little creatures I have +ever seen, with curly hair, and faces like the water-colour +pictures of a hundred years ago. The +Princess herself is most attractive, and reminds one +of the pictures of Queen Victoria as a young +woman. Her sensitive face is full of expression, +and her colour comes and goes as she speaks of +things that move her.</p> + +<p>This afternoon we went to tea at the Legation +with the Howards. The House is charmingly +situated on the Lake, with lovely trees all about it. +It isn't quite finished yet, but will be very +delightful.</p> + +<p><i>22 October.</i>—It is very strange to find oneself +in a country where war is not going on. The +absence of guns and Zeppelins, the well-lighted +streets, and the peace of it all, are quite striking. +But the country is pro-German almost to a man! +And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> it has been a narrow squeak to prevent war. +Even now I suppose one wrong move may lead to +an outbreak of hostilities, and the recent German +victories may yet bring in other countries on her +side. Bulgaria has been a glaring instance of siding +with the one she considers the winning side (Gott +strafe her!), and Greece is still wondering what to +do! Thank God, I belong to a race that is full of +primitive instincts! Poor old England still barges +in whenever there is a fight going on, and gets her +head knocked, and goes on fighting just the same, +and never knows that she is heroic, but blunders +on—simple-hearted, stupid, sublime!</p> + +<p><i>24 October.</i>—I went to the English church this +morning with Mr. Lancelot Smith, but there was +no service as the chaplain had chicken-pox! So I +came home and packed, and then lunched with +Mr. Eric Hambro, Mr. Lancelot Smith, and +Mr. ——, all rather interesting men at this crisis, +when four nations at least are undecided what to do +in the matter of the war.</p> + +<p>About 6 o'clock we and our boxes got away from +Stockholm. Our expenses for the few days we +spent there were £60, although we had very few +meals in the hotel. We had a long journey to +Haparanda, where we stopped for a day. The cold +was terrible and we spent the day (my birthday) on +a sort of luggage barge on the river. On my last +birthday we were bolting from Furnes in front of +the Germans, and the birthday before that I was +on the top of the Rocky Mountains.</p> + +<p>Talking of the Rockies reminds me (did I need +reminding) of Elsie Northcote, my dear friend, who +married<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> and went to live there. The other night +some friends of mine gave me a little "send-off" +before I left London—dinner and the Palace +Theatre, where I felt like a ghost returned to earth. +All the old lot were there as of yore—Viola Tree, +Lady Diana Manners, Harry Lindsay, the Raymond +Asquiths, etc., etc. I saw them all from quite far +away. Lord Stanmore was in the box with us, +and he it was who told me of Elsie Northcote's +sudden death. It wasn't the right place to hear +about it. Too many are gone or are going. My own +losses are almost stupefying; and something dead +within myself looks with sightless eyes on death; +with groping hands I touch it sometimes, and then I +know that I am dead also.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">LOVE AND PAIN</div> + +<p>There is only one thing that one can never +renounce, and that is love. Love is part of one, +and can't be given up. Love can't be separated +from one, even by death. It comes once and +remains always. It is never fulfilled; the fulfilment +of love is its crucifixion; but it lives on for +ever in a passion-week of pain until pain itself grows +dull; and then one wishes one had been born quite +a common little soul, when one would probably +have been very happy.</p> + +<p><i>28 October.</i>—We arrived at midnight last night +at Petrograd. Ian Malcolm was at the hotel, and +had remained up to welcome us. To-day we have +been unpacking, and settling down into rather +comfortable, very expensive rooms. My little box +of a place costs twenty-six shillings a night. We +lunched with two Russian officers and Mr. Ian +Malcolm, and then I went to the British Embassy, +where<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> the other two joined me. Sir George +Buchanan, our Ambassador, looks overworked and +tired. Lady Georgina and I got on well together....</p> + +<p>The day wasn't quite satisfactory, but one must +remember that a queer spirit is evoked in war-time +which is very difficult of analysis. Primarily there +is "a right spirit renewed" in every one of us. +We want to be one in the great sacrifice which war +involves, and we offer and present ourselves, our +souls and bodies in great causes, only to find that +there is some strange unexplained quality of resistance +meeting us everywhere.</p> + +<p>Mary once said to me in her quaint way, "Your +duty is to give to the Queen's Fund as becomes +your position, and to get properly thanked."</p> + +<p>This lady-like behaviour, combined with cheque-writing +on a large scale, is always popular. It can +be repeated and again repeated till cheque-writing +becomes automatic. Then from nowhere there +springs a curious class of persons whom one has +never heard of before, with skins of invulnerable +thickness and with wonderful self-confidence. +They claim almost occult powers in the matter of +"organisation," and they generally require pity for +being overworked. For a time their names are in +great circulation, and afterwards one doesn't hear +very much about them. Florence Nightingale +would have had no distinction nowadays. It is +doubtful if she would have been allowed to work. +Some quite inept person in a high position would +have effectually prevented it. Most people are +on the offensive against "high-souled work," and +prepared<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> to put their foot down heavily on anything +so presumptuous as heroism except of the +orthodox kind, and even the right kind is often not +understood.</p> + +<p>There is a story I try to tell, but something gets +into my throat, and I tell it in jerks when I can.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">FOOTBALL UNDER FIRE</div> + +<p>It is the story of the men who played football +across the open between the enemy's line of trenches +and our own when it was raked by fire. When I +had finished, a friend of mine, evidently waiting for +the end of a pointless story, said, "What did they +do that for?" (Oh, ye gods, have pity on men and +women who suffer from fatty degeneration of the +soul!)</p> + +<p>Still, in spite of it all, the Voice comes, and has +to be obeyed.</p> + +<p><i>30 October.</i>—We lunched at the Embassy yesterday +to meet the Grand Duchess Victoria. She is a +striking-looking woman, tall and strong, and she +wore a plain dark blue cloth dress and a funny +little blue silk cap, and one splendid string of pearls. +At the front she does very fine work, and we offered +our services to her. I have begun to write a little, +but after my crowded life the days feel curiously +empty. Lady Heron Maxwell came to call.</p> + +<p>We were telling each other spy stories the other +night. Some of them were very interesting. The +Germans have lately adopted the plan of writing +letters in English to English prisoners of war in +Germany. These, of course, are quite simple, and +pass the Censor in England, but, once on the other +side, they go straight to Government officials, and +whereas "Dear Bill" may mean nothing to us, it is +part<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> of a German code and conveys some important +information. Mr. Philpotts at Stockholm +discovered this trick.</p> + +<p>On the Russian front a soldier was found with +his jaw tied up, speechless and bleeding. A doctor +tried to persuade him to take cover and get attention; +but he shook his head, and signified by actions +that he was unable to speak owing to his damaged +jaw. The doctor shoved him into a dug-out, and +said kindly, "Just let me have a look at you." +On stripping the bandages off there was no wound +at all, and the German in Russian uniform was +given a cigarette and shot through the head.</p> + +<p>In Flanders we used to see companies of spies led +out to be shot—first a party of soldiers, then the +spies, after them the burying-party, and then the +firing-party—marching stolidly to some place of +execution.</p> + +<p>How awful shell-fire must be for those who +really can't stand it! I heard of a Colonel the other +day—a man who rode to hounds, and seemed quite +a sound sort of fellow—and when the first shell +came over, he leapt from his horse and lay on the +ground shrieking with fear, and with every shell +that came over he yelled and screamed. He had +to be sent home, of course. Some people say this +sort of thing is purely physical. That is never my +view of the matter.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">MISS CAVELL</div> + +<p>Miss Cavell's execution has stirred us all to the +bottom of our hearts. The mean trickiness of her +trial, the refusal to let facts be known, and then +the cold-blooded murder of a brave English woman +at 2 a.m. on a Sunday morning in a prison yard!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> +It is too awful to think about. She was not +even technically a spy, but had merely assisted +some soldiers to get away because she thought they +were going to be shot. A rumour reached the +American and Spanish Legations that she had been +condemned and was to be shot at once, and they instantly +rang up on the telephone to know if this was +true. They were informed by the Military Court +which had tried and condemned her that the verdict +would not be pronounced till three days later. But +the two Legations, still not satisfied, protested that +they must be allowed to visit the prisoner. This +was refused.</p> + +<p>The English chaplain was at last permitted to +enter the prison, and he saw Miss Cavell, and gave +her the Sacrament. She said she was happy to die +for her country. They led her out into the prison +yard to stand before a firing-party of soldiers, but +on her way there she fainted, and an officer took +out his revolver and shot her through the head.</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<p>Petrograd! the stage of romance, and the subject +of dazzling pictures, is one of the most commonplace +towns I have ever been in. It has its one big +street—the Nevski Prospect—where people walk +and shop as they do in Oxford Street, and it has a +few cathedrals and churches, which are not very +wonderful. The roadways are a mass of slush and +are seldom swept; and there are tramways, always +crowded and hot, and many rickety little victorias +with damp cushions, in which one goes everywhere. +Even in the evening we go out in these; and the +colds in the head which follow are chronic.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> +The English colony seems to me as provincial as +the rest of Petrograd. The town and its people +disappoint me greatly. The Hôtel Astoria is a +would-be fashionable place, and there is a queer +crowd of people listening to the band and eating, as +surely only in Russia they can eat. It is all wrong +in war-time, and I hate being one of the people +here.</p> + +<p>N.B.—Write "Miss Wilbraham" as soon as +possible, and write it in gusts. Call one chapter +"The Diners," and try to convey the awful +solemnity of meals—the grave young men with +their goblets of brandy, in which they slowly +rotate ice, the waiter who hands the bowl where +the ice is thrown when the brandy is cool enough, +and then the final gulp, with a nose inside the large +goblet. Shade of Heliogabalus! If the human +tummy must indeed be distended four times in +twenty-four hours, need it be done so solemnly, +and with such a pig-like love of the trough? If +they would even eat what there is with joy one +wouldn't mind, but the talk about food, the once-enjoyed +food, the favourite food, is really too +tiresome. "Where to dine" becomes a sort of test +of true worth. Grave young men give the names +of four or five favoured places in London. Others, +hailed and acknowledged as really good judges, +name half-a-dozen more in Paris where they "do +you well." The real toff knows that Russia is the +place to dine. We earnestly discuss blue-point +oysters and caviare, which, if you "know the man," +you can get sent fresh on the Vienna Express from +Moscow.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">BERNARD SHAW</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> +I once asked Bernard Shaw to dinner, and he +replied on a postcard: "Never! I decline to sit +in a hot room and eat dead animals, even with you +to amuse me!"</p> + +<p>I always seem to be sitting in hot rooms and +eating dead animals, and then paying amazing high +prices for them.</p> + +<p><i>4 November.</i>—I dined with the ——s the other +night. Either the hot rooms, or the fact that I am +anæmic at present, causes me to be so sleepy in the +evenings that I dislike dining out. I sway with +sleep even when people are talking to me. It was +a middle-class little party, such as I often enjoy. +One's friends would fain only have one see a few +fine blooms, but I love common flowers.</p> + +<p>We have been to see "Peter's little house." There +was a tiny shrine, crowded with people in wraps +and shawls, who crossed themselves ceaselessly, to +the danger of their neighbours' faces, for so fervid +were their gesticulations that their hands flew in +every direction! They shoved with their elbows to +get near the wax candles that dripped before the +pictures of the black-faced Virgin and Child, who +were "allowing" soldiers to be painfully slaughtered +by the million.</p> + +<p>Ye gods, what a faith! What an acrobatic +performance to try and reconcile a Father's personal +care for His poor little sparrows and His indifference +at seeing so many of them stretched bleeding on +the ground!</p> + +<p>Religion so far has been a success where martyrs +are concerned, but we must go on with courage to +something that teaches men to <i>live</i> for the best and +the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> highest. This should come from ourselves, and +lead up to God. It should not require teaching, or +priests, or even prayer. Humanity is big enough +for this. It should shake off cords and chains and +old Bible stories of carnage and killing, and get to +work to find a new, responsible, clean, sensible, +practical scheme of life, in which each man will +have to get away from silly old idols and step out +by himself.</p> + +<p>There is nothing very difficult about it, but we +are so beset by bogies, and so full of fears and +fancies that we are half the time either in a state of +funk, or in its antithesis, a state of cheekiness. +Schoolmaster-ridden, we are behaving still like +silly children, and our highest endeavour is (school-boy-like) +to resemble our fellows as nearly as +possible. The result is stagnation, crippled forms, +wasted energy, people waiting for years by some +healing pool and longing for someone to dip +them in. All the release that Christ preached +to men is being smothered in something worse +than Judaism. We love chains, and when they +are removed we either turn and put them on again, +or else caper like mad things because we have cast +them off. Freedom is still as distant as the stars.</p> + +<p><i>5 November.</i>—Yesterday we lunched with the +English chaplain, Mr. Lombard. He and I had a +great talk walking home on a dark afternoon +through the slush after we had been to call on the +Maxwells. I think he is one of the "exiles" whom +one meets all the world over, one of those who +don't transplant well. I am one myself! And +Mr. Lombard and I nearly wept when we found +ourselves<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> in a street that recalled the Marylebone +Road. We pretended we were in sight of Euston +Station, and talked of taking a Baker Street bus +till our voices grew choky.</p> + +<p>How absurd we islanders are! London is a +poky place, but we adore it. St. James's Street is +about the length of a good big ship, yet we don't +feel we have lived till we get back to it! And as +for Piccadilly and St. Paul's, well, we see them in +our dreams.</p> + +<p>Our little unit has not found work yet. I was +told before I joined it that it had been accepted +by the Russian Red Cross Society.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">"CHARITY" AND WAR</div> + +<p>I have been hearing many things out here, and +thinking many things. There is only one way of +directing Red Cross work. Everything should be—and +must be in future—put under military +authority and used by military authority. +"Charity" and war should be separate. It is +absurd that the Belgians in England should be +housed and fed by a Government grant, and our +own soldiers are dependent on private charity for +the very socks they wear and the cigarettes they +smoke. Aeroplanes had to be instituted and prizes +offered for them by a newspaper, and ammunition +wasn't provided till a newspaper took up the +matter. To be mob-ridden is bad enough, but to +be press-ridden is worse!</p> + +<p>Now, war is a military matter, and should be +controlled by military authorities. Mrs. Wynne, +Mr. Bevan, and I should not be out here waiting +for work. We ought to be sent where we are +needed, and so ought all Red Cross people. This +would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> put an end, one hopes, to the horrid business +of getting "soft jobs."</p> + +<p><i>7 November.</i>—Whenever I am away from +England I rejoice in the passing of each week that +brings me nearer to my return. I had hardly +realised to-day was the 7th, but I am thankful I +am one week nearer the grey little island and all +the nice people in it.</p> + +<p>Yesterday I went to Lady Georgina Buchanan's +soup-kitchen, and helped to feed Polish refugees. +They strike me as being very like animals, but not +so interesting. In the barracks where they lodge +everyone crowds in. There is no division of the +sexes, babies are yelling, and families are sleeping +on wooden boards. The places are heated but not +aired, and the smell is horrid; but they seem to +revel in "frowst." All the women are dandling +babies or trying to cook things on little oil-stoves. +At night-time things are awful, I believe, and the +British Ambassador has been asked to protect the +girls who are there.</p> + +<p><i>8 November.</i>—This afternoon I went to see +Mrs. Bray, and then I had an unexpected pleasure, +for I met <a class="correction" title="index has "Johnny"">Johnnie</a> Parsons, who is Naval Attaché +to Admiral Phillimore, and we had a long chat. +When one is in a strange land, or with people who +know one but little, these encounters are wonderfully +nice.</p> + +<p>The other night I dined with the Heron Maxwells, +and had a nice evening and a game of bridge. +Some Americans, called de Velter, were there. I +think most people from the States regret the +neutrality of their country.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">VISIONS OF PEACE</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> +Everyone brings in different stories of the war. +Some say Germany is exhausted and beaten, others +say she is flushed with victory, and with enormous +reserves of men, food, and ammunition. I try to +believe all the good I hear, and when even children +or fools tell me the war will soon be over, I want +to embrace them—I don't care whether they are +talking nonsense or not. Sometimes I seem to see +a great hushed cathedral, and ourselves returning +thanks for Peace and Victory, and the vision is too +much for me. I must either work or be chloroformed +till that time comes.</p> + +<p><i>9 November.</i>—I think there is only one thing I +dislike more than sitting in an hotel bedroom and +learning a new language, and that is sitting in an +hotel bedroom and nursing a cold in my head. +Lately I have been learning Russian—and now I +am sniffing. My own fault. I would sleep with +my window open in this unhealthiest of cities, and +smells and marsh produced a feverish cold.</p> + +<p>Out in the square the soldiers drill all the time +in the snow, lying in it, standing in it, and dressed +for the most part in cotton clothing. Wool can't +be bought, so a close cotton web is made, with the +inside teased out like flannelette, and this is all +they have. The necessaries of life are being +"cornered" right and left, mostly by the commercial +houses and the banks. The other day 163 +railway trucks of sugar were discovered in a siding, +where the owners had placed it to wait for a rise. +Meanwhile, sugar has been almost unprocurable.</p> + +<p>Everyone from the front describes the condition +of the refugees as being most wretched. They are +camping<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> in the snow by the thousand, and are still +tramping from Poland.</p> + +<p>And here we are in the Astoria Hotel, and there +is one pane of glass between us and the weather; +one pane of glass between us and the peasants of +Poland; one pane of glass dividing us from poverty, +and keeping us in the horrid atmosphere of this +place, with its evil women and its squeaky band! +How I hate money!</p> + +<p>I hope soon to join a train going to Dvinsk with +food and supplies.</p> + +<p><i>13 November.</i>—I have felt very brainless since I +came here. It is the result, I believe, of the Petrograd +climate. Nearly everyone feels it. I had a +little book in my head which I thought I could +"dash off," and that writing it would fill up these +waiting days, but I can't write a word.</p> + +<p>The war news is not good, but the more territory +that Germany takes, the more the British rub their +hands and cry victory. Their courage and optimism +are wonderful.</p> + +<p>To-day I spent with the Maxwells, and met a +nurse, newly returned from Galicia, who had +interesting tales to tell. One about some Russian +airmen touched me. There had been a fierce fight +overhead, when suddenly the German aeroplane +began to wheel round and round like a leaf, when +it was found that the machine was on fire. One of +the airmen had been shot and the other burnt to +death. The Russians refused to come and look at +the remains even of the aeroplane, and said sadly, +"All we men of the air are brothers." They gave +the dead Germans a military funeral, and then +sailed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> over the enemy's lines to drop a note to say +that all honour had been done to the brave dead.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">BULGARIA</div> + +<p>I met Monsieur Jecquier, who was full of the +political situation—said Bulgaria would have joined +us any day if we had promised to give her Bukowina; +and blamed Bark, the Russian Finance Minister, for +the terms of England's loan (the loan is for thirty +millions, and repayment is promised in a year, which +is manifestly impossible, and the situation may be +strained). He said also that Motono, the Japanese +Ambassador, is far the finest politician here; and +he told me that while Russia ought to have been +protecting the road to Constantinople she was +quarrelling about what its new name was to be, +and had decided to call it "Czareska." Now, I +suppose, the Germans are already there. Lloyds +has been giving £100 at a premium of £5 that King +Ferdinand won't be on his throne next June. +The premium has gone to £10, which is good news. +If Ferdie is assassinated the world will be rid of an +evil fellow who has played a mean and degraded part +in this war.</p> + +<p>We dined at the British Embassy last night. I +was taken in to dinner by Mr. George Lloyd, who +was full of interesting news. I had a nice chat +with Lady Georgina.</p> + +<p><i>20 November.</i>—It has been rather a "hang-on" +ever since I wrote last, nothing settled and nothing +to do. No one ever seems at their best in Petrograd. +It is a cross place and a common place. I never +understood Tolstoi till I came here. On all sides one +sees the same insane love of money and love of food.</p> + +<p>A restaurant here disgusts me as nothing else +ever<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> did. From a menu a foot long no one seems +able to choose a meal, but something fresh must be +ordered. The prices are quite silly, and, oddly +enough, people seem to revel in them. They still +eat caviare at ten shillings a head; the larger the +bill the better they are pleased.</p> + +<p>Joseph, the Napoleon of the restaurant, keeps an +eye on everyone. He is yellow, and pigeon-breasted, +but his voice is like grease, and he speaks caressingly +of food, pencils entries in his pocket-book, +and stimulates jaded appetites by signalling the +"voiture aux hors d'œuvres" to approach. The +rooms are far too hot for anyone to feel hungry, the +band plays, and the leader of it grins all the time, +and capers about on his little platform like a monkey +on an organ.</p> + +<p>Always in this life of restaurants and gilt and +roubles I am reminded of the fact that the only +authentic picture we have of hell is of a man there +who all his life had eaten good dinners.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">STAGNATION</div> + +<p>I have been busy seeing all manner of people in +order to try and get work to do. I hear of suffering, +but I am never able to locate it or to do anything for +it. No distinct information is forthcoming; and +when I go to one high official he gives me his card +and sends me to another. Nothing is even decided +about Mrs. Wynne's cars, although she is offering +a gift worth some thousands of pounds. I go to +Lady Georgina's work-party on Mondays and meet +the English colony, and on Wednesdays and +Saturdays I distribute soup; but it is an unsatisfactory +business, and the days go by and one gets +nothing done. One isn't even storing up health, because<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> +this is rather an unhealthy place, so altogether +we are feeling a bit low. I can never again be surprised +at Russian "laissez faire," or want of push and +energy. It is all the result of the place itself. I +feel in a dream, and wish with all my heart I could +wake up in my own bed.</p> + +<p><i>21 November.</i>—Sunday, and I have slept late. At +home I begin work at 6 a.m. Here, like everyone +else, I only wake up at night, and the "best hours +of the day," as we call them, are wasted, à la Watts' +hymn, in slumber. If it was possible one would +organise one's time a bit, but hotel life is the very +mischief for that sort of thing. There are no +facilities for anything. One must telephone in +Russian or spend roubles on messengers if one +wants to get into touch with anyone. I took a +taxi out to lunch one day. It cost 16 roubles—<i>i.e.</i>, +32s.</p> + +<p>Dear old Lord Radstock used to say in the +spring, "The Lord is calling me to Italy," and a +testy parson once remarked, "The Lord always +calls you at very convenient times, Radstock." I +don't feel as if the Lord had called me here at a +very convenient time.</p> + +<p>I called on Princess Hélène Scherbatoff yesterday, +and found her and her people at home. The +mother runs a hospital-train for the wounded in the +intervals of hunting wolves. Her son has been +dead for some months, and she says she hasn't had +time to bury him yet! One assumes he is +embalmed! Yet I can't help saying they were +charming people to meet, so we must suppose they +are somewhat cracked. The daughter is lovely, and +they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> were all in deep mourning for the unburied +relative.</p> + +<p><i>24 November.</i>—This long wait is trying us a bit +high. There is literally nothing to do. We arrange +pathetic little programmes for ourselves. To-day I +shall lunch with Mr. Cunard, and see the lace he +has bought: yesterday I did some shopping with +Captain Smith: one day I sew at Lady Georgina's +work-party.</p> + +<p>Heavens, what a life! I realise that for years I +have not drawn rein, and I am sure I don't require +holidays. Moses was a wise man, and he knew +that one day in seven is rest enough for most +humans. I always "keep the Sabbath," and it is +all the rest I want. Even here I might write and +get on with something, but there is something +paralysing about the place, and my brain won't work. +I can't even write a diary! Everyone is depressed +and everyone longs to be out of Petrograd. To-day +we hear that the Swedes have closed the +Haparanda line, and Archangel is frozen, so here +we are.</p> + +<p>Now I have got to work at the hospital. There +are 25,000 amputation cases in Petrograd. The +men at my hospital are mostly convalescent, but, of +course, their wounds require dressing. This is never +done in their beds, as the English plan is, but each +man is carried in turn to the "salle des pansements," +and is laid on an operating-table and has his fresh +dressings put on, and is then carried back to bed +again. It is a good plan, I think. The hospital +keeps me busy all the morning. Once more I +begin to see severed limbs and gashed flesh, and +the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> old question arises, "Why, what evil hath he +done?" This war is the crucifixion of the youth +of the world.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">"SPEAKING ONE'S MIND"</div> + +<p>In a way I am learning something here. For +instance, I have always disliked "explanations" and +"speaking one's mind," etc., etc., more than I can +say. I dare say I have chosen the path of least +resistance in these matters. Here one must speak +out sometimes, and speak firmly. It isn't all +"being pleasant." One girl has been consistently +rude to me. To-day, poor soul, I gave her a second +sermon on our way back from church; but, indeed +she has numerous opportunities in this war, and she +is wasting them all on gossip, and prejudices, and +petty jealousies. So we had a straight talk, and I +hope she didn't hate it. At any rate, she has +promised amendment of life. One hears of men +that "this war gives them a chance to distinguish +themselves." Women ought to distinguish themselves, +too.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Hesper! Venus! were we native to their splendour, or in Mars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We should see this world we live in, fairest of their evening stars.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who could dream of wars and tumults, hate and envy, sin and spite,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Roaring London, raving Paris, in that spot of peaceful light?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Might we not, in looking heavenward on a star so silver fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yearn and clasp our hands and murmur, 'Would to God that we were there!'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Always when I see war, and boys with their poor +dead faces turned up to the sky, and their hands so +small in death, and when I see wounded men, and +hear of soldiers going out of the trenches with a +laugh and a joke to cut wire entanglements, knowing +they will not come back, then I am ashamed of +meanness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> and petty spite. So my poor young +woman got a "fair dose of it" this morning, and +when she had gulped once or twice I think she felt +better.</p> + +<p>Yesterday one saw enough to stir one profoundly, +and enough to make small things seem small indeed! +It was a fine day at last, after weeks of black +weather and skies heavy with snow, and although +the cold was intense the sun was shining. I got +into one of the horrid little droshkys, in which one +sits on very damp cushions, and an "izvoztchik" in +a heavy coat takes one to the wrong address always!</p> + +<p>The weather has been so thick, the rain and +snow so constant, that I had not yet seen Petrograd. +Yesterday, out of the mists appeared golden spires, +and beyond the Neva, all sullen and heavy with +ice, I saw towers and domes which I hadn't seen +before. I stamped my feet on the shaky little +carriage and begged the izvoztchik to drive a little +quicker. We had to be at the Finnish station at +10 a.m., and my horse, with a long tail that +embraced the reins every time that the driver +urged speed, seemed incapable of doing more than +potter over the frozen roads. I picked up Mme. +Takmakoff, who was taking me to the station, and +we went on together.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">BLIND</div> + +<p>At the station there was a long wooden building +and, outside, a platform, all frozen and white, where +we waited for the train to come in. Mme. Sazonoff, +a fine well-bred woman, the wife of the Minister for +Foreign Affairs, was there, and "many others," as +the press notices say. The train was late. We +went inside the long wooden building to shelter +from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> the bitter cold beside the hot-water pipes, and +as we waited we heard that the train was coming +in. It came slowly and carefully alongside the +platform with its crunching snow, almost with the +creeping movement of a woman who carries something +tenderly. Then it stopped. Its windows +were frozen and dark, so that one could see +nothing. I heard a voice behind me say, "The +blind are coming first," and from the train there +came groping one by one young men with their +eyes shot out. They felt for the step of the +train, and waited bewildered till someone came to +lead them; then, with their sightless eyes looking +upwards more than ours do, they moved stumbling +along. Poor fellows, they'll never <i>see</i> home; but +they turned with smiles of delight when the band, +in its grey uniforms and fur caps, began to play the +National Anthem.</p> + +<p>These were the first wounded prisoners from +Germany, sent home because they could never fight +again—quite useless men, too sorely hurt to stand +once more under raining bullets and hurtling shell-fire—so +back they came, and like dazed creatures +they got out of the train, carrying their little +bundles, limping, groping, but home.</p> + +<p>After the blind came those who had lost limbs—one-legged +men, men still in bandages, men hobbling +with sticks or with an arm round a comrade's neck, +and then the stretcher cases. There was one man +carrying his crutches like a cross. Others lay +twisted sideways. Some never moved their heads +from their pillows. All seemed to me to have about +them a splendid dignity which made the long, +battered,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> suffering company into some great +pageant. I have never seen men so lean as they +were. I have never seen men's cheek-bones seem to +cut through the flesh just where the close-cropped +hair on their temples ends. I had never seen such +hollow eyes; but they were Russian soldiers, +Russian gentlemen, and they were home again!</p> + +<p>In the great hall we greeted them with tables +laid with food, and spread with wine and little +presents beside each place. They know how to do +this, the princely Russians, so each man got a +welcome to make him proud. The band was there, +and the long tables, the hot soup and the cigarettes. +All the men had washed at Torneo, and all of them +wore clean cotton waistcoats. Their hair was cut, +too, but their faces hadn't recovered. One knew +they would never be young again. The Germans +had done their work. Semi-starvation and wounds +had made old men of these poor Russian soldiers. +All was done that could be done to welcome them +back, but no one could take it in for a time. A +sister in black distributed some little Testaments, +each with a cross on it, and the soldiers kissed the +symbol of suffering passionately.</p> + +<p>They filed into their places at the tables, and the +stretchers were placed in a row two deep up the +whole length of the room. In the middle of it +stood an altar, covered with silver tinsel, and two +priests in tinsel and gold stood beside it. Upon it +was the sacred ikon, and the everlasting Mother +and Child smiled down at the men laid in helplessness +and weakness at their feet.</p> + +<p>A General welcomed the soldiers back; and +when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> they were thanked in the name of the +Emperor for what they had done, the tears coursed +down their thin cheeks. It was too pitiful and +touching to be borne. I remember thinking how +quietly and sweetly a sister of mercy went from +one group of soldiers to another, silently giving +them handkerchiefs to dry their tears. We are all +mothers now, and our sons are so helpless, so much +in need of us.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">WOUNDED RUSSIANS</div> + +<p>Down the middle of the room were low tables +for the men who lay down all the time. They +saluted the ikon, as all the soldiers did, and some +service began which I was unable to follow. I +can't tell what the soldiers said, or of what they +were thinking. About their comrades they said to +Mme. Takmakoff that 25,000 of them had died in +two days from neglect. We shall never hear the +worst perhaps.</p> + +<p>There were three officers at a table. One of +them was shot through the throat, and was +bandaged. I saw him put all his food on one side, +unable to swallow it. Then a high official came and +sat down and drank his health. The officer raised +his glass gallantly, and put his lips to the wine, but +his throat was shot through, he made a face of +agony, bowed to the great man opposite, and put +down his glass.</p> + +<p>Some surgeons in white began to go about, +taking names and particulars of the men's condition. +Everyone was kind to the returned soldiers, but +they had borne too much. Some day they will +smile perhaps, but yesterday they were silent men +returned from the dead, and not yet certain that +their feet touched Russia again.</p> + + + +<hr class="full" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III_II" id="CHAPTER_III_II"></a>CHAPTER II +<span class="totoc"><a href="#CONTENTS">ToC</a></span></h2> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p> + +<h3>WAITING FOR WORK</h3> + +<p>We paid our heavy bills and left Petrograd on +Monday, the 29th November. Great fuss at the +station, as our luggage and the guide had disappeared +together. A comfortable, slow journey, and Colonel +Malcolm met us at Moscow station and took us to +the Hôtel de Luxe—a shocking bad pub, but the +only one where we could get rooms. We went out +to lunch, and I had a plate of soup, two faens (little +wheat cakes), and the fifth part of a bottle of Graves. +This modest repast cost sixteen shillings per head. +We turned out of the Luxe Hotel the following +day, and came to the National, where four hundred +people were waiting to get in. But our guide +Grundy had influence, and managed to get us +rooms. It is quite comfortable.</p> + +<p>None of us was sorry to leave Petrograd, and +that is putting the case mildly. People there are +very depressed, and it was a case of "she said" and +"he said" all the time. Everyone was trying to +snuff everyone else out. "I don't know them"—and +the lips pursed up finished many a reputation, +and I heard more about money and position than I +ever heard in my life before. "Bunty" and I used +to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> say that the world was inhabited by "nice +people and very nice people," and once she added +a third class, "fearfully nice people." That is a +world one used to inhabit. I suppose one must +make the best of this one!</p> + +<div class="sidenote">MOSCOW</div> + +<p><i>Moscow. 2 December.</i>—Hilda Wynne was rather +feverish to-day, and lay in bed, so I had a solitary +walk about the Kremlin, and saw a fine view from +its splendid position. But, somehow, I am getting +tired of solitude. I suppose the war gives us the +feeling that we must hold together, and yet I have +never been more alone than during this last eighteen +months.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center"><i>To Miss Macnaughtan's Sisters.</i></p> + +<p class="lh_ind0"><span class="smcap">Crédit Lyonnais, Moscow,</span></p> +<p class="lh_ind2"><i>3 December.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My Dears,</span></p> + +<p>I have just heard that there is a man going up +to Petrograd to-night who will put our letters in the +Embassy bag, so there is some hope of this reaching +you. It is really my Christmas letter to you all, +so may it be passed round, please, although there +won't be much in it.</p> + +<p>We are now at Moscow, <i>en route</i> for the Caucasus +<i>via</i> Tiflis, and our base will probably be Julfa. We +have been chosen to go there by the Grand Duchess +Cyril, but the reports about the roads are so +conflicting that we are going to see for ourselves. +When we get there it will be difficult to send +letters home, but the banks will always be in +communication with each other, so I shall get all +you send to Crédit Lyonnais, Petrograd.</p> + +<p>So far we have been waiting for our cars all this +time.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> They had to come by Archangel, and they +left long before we did, but they have not arrived +yet. There are six ambulance cars, on board three +different ships (for safety), and no news of any of +them yet.</p> + +<p>Now, at least, <i>we</i> have got a move on, and, +barring accidents, we shall be in Tiflis next week. +It's rather a fearsome journey, as the train only +takes us to the foot of the mountains in four days, +and then we must ride or drive across the passes, +which they say are too cold for anything. You +must imagine us like Napoleon in the "Retreat +from Moscow" picture.</p> + +<p>Petrograd is a singularly unpleasant town, where +the sun never shines, and it rains or snows every +day. The river is full of ice, but it looks sullen +and sad in the perpetual mist. There are a good +many English people there; but one is supposed to +know the Russians, which means speaking French +all the time. Moscow is a far superior place, and +is really most interesting and beautiful, and very +Eastern, while Petrograd might be Liverpool. I +filled up my time there in the hospital and soup-kitchen.</p> + +<p>The price of everything gets worse, I do believe! +Even a glass of filtered water costs one shilling and +threepence! I have just left an hotel for which +my bill was £3 for one night, and I was sick nearly +all the time!</p> + +<div class="sidenote">"WHEN WILL THE WAR END?"</div> + +<p>Now, my dears, I wish you all the best Christmas +you can have this year. I am just longing for +news of you, but I never knew such a cut-off place +as this for letters. Tell me about every one of the +family.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> Write lengthy letters. When do people +say the war will end?</p> + +<p class="lf_sal">Your loving</p> +<p class="lf_sig"><span class="smcap">Sarah Broom.</span></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><i>Tiflis. 12 December.</i>—It is evening, and I have +only just remembered it is Sunday, a thing I can't +recollect ever having happened before. I have been +ill in my room all day, which no doubt accounts +for it.</p> + +<p>We stayed at Moscow for a few days, and my +recollection of it is of a great deal of snow and +frequent shopping expeditions in cold little sleighs. +I liked the place, and it was infinitely preferable to +Petrograd. Mr. Cazalet took us to the theatre one +night, and there was rather a good ballet. These +poor dancers! They, like others, have lost their +nearest and dearest in the war, but they still have +to dance. Of course they call themselves "The +Allies," and one saw rather a stale ballet-girl in very +sketchy clothes dancing with a red, yellow, and +black flag draped across her. Poor Belgium! It +was such a travesty of her sufferings.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cazalet came to see us off at the station, and +we began our long journey to Tiflis, but we changed +our minds, and took the local train from —— to +Vladikavkas, where we stayed one night rather +enjoyably at a smelly hotel, and the following day +we got a motor-car and started at 7 a.m. for the +pass. The drive did us all good. The great snow +peaks were so unlike Petrograd and gossip! I had +been rather ill on the train, and I got worse at the +hotel and during the drive, so I was quite a poor +Sarah<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> when I reached Tiflis. Still, the scenery had +been lovely all the time, and we had funny little +meals at rest houses.</p> + +<p>When we got to Tiflis I went on being seedy for +a while. I finished Stephen Graham's book on +Russia which he gave me before I left home. It is +charmingly written. The line he chooses is mine +also, but his is a more important book than mine.</p> + +<p><i>Batoum. 22 December.</i>—We have had a really +delightful time since I last wrote up the old diary! +(A dull book so far.) We saw a good many important +people at Tiflis—Gorlebeff, the head of the +Russian Red Cross, Prince Orloff, Prince Galitzin +(a charming man), General Bernoff, etc., etc.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wynne's and Mr. Bevan's cars are definitely +accepted for the Tehran district. My own plans +are not yet settled, but I hope they may be soon. +People seem to think I look so delicate that they +are a little bit afraid of giving me hard work, and +yet I suppose there are not many women who get +through more work than I do; but I believe I am +looking rather a poor specimen, and my hair has +fallen out. I think I am rather like those pictures +on the covers of "appeals"—pictures of small +children, underneath which is written, "This is +Johnny Smith, or Eliza Jones, who was found in +a cellar by one of our officers; weight—age—etc., +etc."</p> + +<p>If I could have a small hospital north of Tehran +it would be a good centre for the wounded, and it +would also be a good place for the others to come +to. Mr. Hills and Dr. Gordon (American missionaries) +seem to think they would like me to join +them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> in their work for the Armenians. These unfortunate +people have been nearly exterminated by +massacres, and it has been officially stated that +75 per cent. of the whole race has been put to +the sword. This sounds awful enough, but when +we consider that there is no refinement of torture +that has not been practised upon them, then something +within one gets up and shouts for revenge.</p> + +<p>The photographs which General Bernoff has are +proof of the devildom of the Turks, only that the +devil could not have been so beastly, and a beast +could not have been so devilish. The Kaiser has +convinced the Turks that he is now converted from +Christianity to Mahomedanism. In every mosque +he is prayed for under the title of "Hájed Mahomet +Wilhelm," and photographs of burned and ruined +cathedrals in France and Belgium are displayed to +prove that he is now anti-Christian. Heaven knows +it doesn't want much proving!</p> + +<div class="sidenote">RASPUTIN</div> + +<p>There are rumours of peace offers from Germany, +but we must go on fighting now, if only for the sake +of the soldiers, who will be the ones to suffer, but who +<i>can't</i> be asked to give in. The Russians are terribly +out of spirits, and very depressed about the war. +The German influence at Court scares them, +and there is, besides, the mysterious Rasputin to +contend with! This extraordinary man seems to +exercise a malign influence over everyone, and +people are powerless to resist him. Nothing seems +too strange or too mad to recount of this man and +his dupes. He is by birth a moujik, or peasant, and +is illiterate, a drunkard, and an immoral wretch. +Yet there is hardly a great lady at Court who has +not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> come under his influence, and he is supposed +by this set of persons to be a reincarnation of +Christ. Rasputin's figure is one of those mysterious +ones round which every sort of rumour gathers.</p> + +<p>We left Tiflis on Friday, 17th December, and +had rather a panic at the station, as our passports +had been left at the hotel, and our tickets had gone +off to Baku. However, the unpunctuality of the +train helped us, and we got off all right, an hour +late. The train was about a thousand years old, +and went at the rate of ten miles an hour, and we +could only get second-class ordinary carriages to +sleep in! But morning showed us such lovely +scenery that nothing else mattered. One found +oneself in a semi-tropical country, with soft skies +and blue sea, and palms and flowers, and with tea-gardens +on all the hillsides. When will people discover +Caucasia? It is one of the countries of the +world.</p> + +<p>We had letters to Count Groholski, a most +charming young fellow, who arranged a delightful +journey for us into the mountains, and as we had +brought no riding things we began to search the +small shops for riding-boots and the like. Then, in +the evening we dined with Count Oulieheff, and +had an interesting pleasant time. Two Japanese +were at dinner, and, although they couldn't speak +any tongue but their own, Japanese always manage +to look interesting. No doubt much of that +depends upon being able to say nothing.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">GEORGIA</div> + +<p>Early next day we motored out to the Count's +Red Cross camp at ——. Here everyone was +sleeping under tents or in little wooden huts, and +we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> met some good-mannered, nice soldier men, +most of them Poles. The scenery was grand, and +we were actually in the little known and wonderful +old kingdom of Georgia. Very little of it is <a class="correction" title="original had comma">left.</a> +There are ruins all along the river of castles and +fortresses and old stone bridges now crumbling into +decay, but of the country, once so proud, only one +small dirty city remains, and that is Artvin, on the +mountain-side. It was too full of an infectious sort +of typhus for us to go there, but we drove out to +the hospital on the opposite side of the valley, and +the doctor in charge there gave us beds for the +night.</p> + +<p>On Sunday, December 19th, I wandered about +the hillside, found some well-made trenches, +and saw some houses which had been shelled. +The Turks were in possession of Artvin only a +year ago, and there was a lot of fighting in the +mountains. It seems to me that the population of +the place is pretty Turkish still; and there are +Turkish houses with small Moorish doorways, and +little windows looking out on the glorious view. +In all the mountains round here the shooting is +fine, and consists of toor (goats), leopards, bears, +wolves, and on the Persian front, tigers also. Land +can be had for nothing if one is a Russian.</p> + +<p>On Sunday afternoon we drove in a most painful +little carriage to a village which seemed to be inhabited +by good-looking cut-throats, but there was +not much to see except the picturesque, smelly, old +brown houses. We met a handsome Cossack +carrying a man down to the military hospital. He +was holding him upright, as children carry each +other;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> the man was moaning with fever, and had +been stricken with the virulent typhus, which +nearly always kills. But what did the handsome +Cossack care about infection? He was a mountaineer, +and had eyes with a little flame in them, +and a fierce moustache. Perhaps to-morrow he +will be gone. People die like flies in these unhealthy +towns, and the Russians are supremely +careless.</p> + +<p>We went back to the hospital for dinner, and +then went out into crisp, beautiful moonlight, and +motored back to the Red Cross camp. I had a +little hut to sleep in, which had just been built. +It contained a bed and two chairs, upon one of +which was a tin basin! The cold in the morning +was about as sharp as anything I have known, but +everyone was jolly and pleasant, and we had a +charming time.</p> + +<p>The Count told us of the old proud Georgians +when there was a famine in the country and a +Russian Governor came to offer relief to the starving +inhabitants. Their great men went out to +receive him, and said courteously, "We have not +been here, Gracious One, one hundred or two +hundred years, but much more than a thousand +years, and during that time we have not had a visit +from the Russian Government. We are pleased +to see you, and the honour you have done us is +sufficient in itself—for the rest we think we will +not require anything at your hands."</p> + +<p>On Monday I motored with the others out to the +ferry; then I had to leave them, as they were +going to ride forty miles, and that was thought too +much<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> for me. Age has <i>no</i> compensations, and it is +not much use fighting it. One only ends by being +"a wonderful old woman of eighty": reminiscent, +perhaps a little obstinate, and in the world to come—always +eighty?</p> + +<p>Came back to Batoum with Count Stanislas +Constant, and went for a drive with him to see the +tea-gardens.</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<div class="sidenote">TIFLIS</div> + +<p>Christmas Eve at Tiflis, and here we are with +cars still stuck in the ice thirty miles from Archangel, +and ourselves just holding on and trying not +to worry. But what a waste of time! Also, +fighting is going on now in Persia, and we might +be a lot of use. We came back from Batoum in +the hottest and slowest train I have ever been in. +Still, Georgia delighted me, and I am glad to have +seen it. They have a curious custom there (the +result of generations of fighting). Instead of saying +"Good-morning," they say "Victory"; and the +answer is, "May the victory be yours." The +language is Georgian, of course; and then there is +Tartar, and Polish, and Russian, and I can't help +thinking that the Tower of Babel was the poorest +joke that was ever played on mankind. Nothing +stops work so completely.</p> + +<p>What will Christmas Day be like at home? I +think of all the village churches, with the holly and +evergreens, and in almost every one the little new +brass plates to the memory of beautiful youth, dead +and mangled, and left in the mud to await another +trumpet than that which called it from the trenches. +There is nothing like a boy, and all the life of +England<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> and the prayers of mothers have centred +round them. One's older friends died first, and +now the boys are falling, and from every little +vicarage, from school-houses and colleges, the +endless stream goes, all with their heads up, fussing +over their little bits of packing, and then away to +stand exploding shells and gas and bombs. No one +except those who have seen knows the ghastly tale +of human suffering that this war involves every +day. Down here 550,000 Armenians have been +butchered in cold blood. The women are either +massacred or driven into Turkish harems.</p> + +<p>Yesterday we heard some news at last in this +most benighted corner of the world! England has +raised four million volunteers. Hurrah! Over +one million men volunteered in one week. French +takes command at home and Haig at the front.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center"><i>To Mrs. Charles Young.</i></p> + +<p class="lh_ind0"><span class="smcap">Hotel Orient, Tiflis,</span></p> +<p class="lh_ind2"><i>26 December.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Darling J.,</span></p> + +<p>It seems almost useless to write letters, or +even to wire! Letters sometimes take forty-nine +days to get to England, and telegrams are <i>always</i> +kept a fortnight before being sent. We have had +great difficulty about the ambulance cars, as they all +got frozen into the river at Archangel; however, as +you will see from the newspapers, there isn't a great +deal going on yet.</p> + +<p>I do hope you and all the family are safe and +sound. I wired to —— for her birthday to ask +news of you all, and I prepaid the reply, but, of +course,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> none came, so I am sure she never got the +wire. I have wired twice to ——, but no reply. +At last one gives up expecting any. I got some +newspapers nearly a month old to-day, and I have +been devouring them.</p> + +<p>This is rather a curious place, and the climate is +quite good; no snow, and a good deal of pleasant +sun, but the hills all round are very bare and +rugged.</p> + +<p>I have had a cough, which I think equals your +best efforts in that line. How it does shake one +up! I had some queer travelling when it was at +its worst: for the first night we were given a shakedown +in a little mountain hospital, which was fearfully +cold; and the next night I was put into a +newly-built little place, made of planks roughly +nailed together, and with just a bed and a basin +in it.</p> + +<p>The cold was wonderful, and since then—as you +may imagine—the Macnaughtan cough has been +heard in the land!</p> + +<div class="sidenote">GRAND DUKE NICHOLAS</div> + +<p>Yesterday (Christmas Day) we were invited to +breakfast with the Grand Duke Nicholas. A Court +function in Russia is the most royal that you can +imagine—no half measures about it! The Grand +Duke is an adorably handsome man, quite extraordinarily +and obviously a Grand Duke. He +measures 6 feet 5 inches, and is worshipped by +every soldier in the Army.</p> + +<p>We went first into a huge anteroom, where a +lady-in-waiting received us, and presented us to +"Son Altesse Impériale," and then to the Grand +Duke and to his brother, the Grand Duke Peter. +Some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> scenes seem to move as in a play. I had a +vision of a great polished floor, and many tall men +in Cossack dress, with daggers and swords, most of +them different grades of Princes and Imperial +Highnesses.</p> + +<p>A great party of Generals, and ladies, and +members of the Household, then went into a big +dining-room, where every imaginable hors d'œuvre +was laid out on dishes—dozens of different kinds—and +we each ate caviare or something. Afterwards, +with a great tramp and clank of spurs and swords, +everyone moved on to a larger dining-room, where +there were a lot of servants, who waited excellently.</p> + +<p>In the middle of the déjeuner the Grand Duke +Nicholas got up, and everyone else did the same, +and they toasted us! The Grand Duke made a +speech about our "gallantry," etc., etc., and everyone +raised glasses and bowed to one. Nothing in +a play could have been more of a real fine sort of +scene. And certainly S. Macnaughtan in her +wildest dreams hadn't thought of anything so +wonderful as being toasted in Russia by the +Imperial Staff.</p> + +<p>It's quite a thing to be tiresome about when one +grows old!</p> + +<p>In the evening we tried to be merry, and failed. +The Grand Duchess sent us mistletoe and plum-pudding +by the hand of M. Boulderoff. He took +us shopping, but the bazaars are not interesting.</p> + +<p class="lf_ind3">Good-bye, and bless you, my dear,</p> +<p class="lf_sal">Yours as ever,</p> +<p class="lf_sig"><span class="smcap">S. Macnaughtan.</span></p> + +<hr /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center"><i>To Miss Julia Keays-Young.</i></p> + +<p class="lh_ind6"><span class="smcap">Hotel d'Orient, Tiflis,</span></p> +<p class="lh_ind4"><span class="smcap">Caucasus, Russia,</span></p> +<p class="lh_ind2"><i>27 December.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Darling Jenny,</span></p> + +<p>I can't tell you what a pleasure your letters +are. I only wish I could get some more from anybody, +but not a line gets through! I want so much +to hear about Bet and her marriage, and to know if +the nephews and Charles are safe.</p> + +<p>There seems to be the usual winter pause over +the greater part of the war area, but round about +here, there are the most awful massacres; 550,000 +Armenians have been slaughtered in cold blood by +the Turks, and with cruelties that pass all telling. +One is quite impotent.</p> + +<p>I expect to be sent into Persia soon, and meanwhile +I hope to join some American missionaries +who are helping the refugees. Our ambulances are +at last out of the ice at Archangel, and will be here +in a fortnight; but we are not to go to Persia for a +month. "The Front" is always altering, and we +never have any idea where our work will be wanted.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">HOMESICK</div> + +<p>We are still asking when the war will end, but, +of course, no one knows. One gets pretty homesick +out here at times, and there was a chance I +might have to go back to England for equipment, +but that seems off at present.</p> + +<p class="lf_sal">Your always loving</p> +<p class="lf_sig">A. S.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><i>29 December.</i>—I have still got a horrid bad +cough, and my big, dull room is depressing. We +are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> all depressed, I am afraid. Being accustomed +to have plenty to do, this long wait is maddening.</p> + +<p>Whatever Russia may have in store for us in the +way of useful work, nothing can exceed the boredom +of our first seven weeks here. We are just spoiling +for work. I believe it is as bad as an illness to feel +like this, and we won't be normal again for some +time. Oddly enough, it does affect one's health, and +Hilda Wynne and I are both seedy. We are +always trying to wire for things, but not a word gets +through.</p> + +<p>We were summoned to dine at the palace last +night. Everyone very charming.</p> + +<p><i>31 December.</i>.—Prince Murat came to dine and +play bridge. Count Groholski turned up for a few +days. My doctor vetted me for my cold. Business +done—none. No sailor ever longed for port as I do +for home.</p> + + + +<hr class="full" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III_III" id="CHAPTER_III_III"></a>CHAPTER III +<span class="totoc"><a href="#CONTENTS">ToC</a></span></h2> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p> + +<h3>SOME IMPRESSIONS OF TIFLIS AND ARMENIA</h3> + +<p><i>Tiflis. 1 January, 1916.</i>—Kind wishes from the +Grand Duke and everybody. Not such an aimless +day as usual. I got into a new sitting-room and +put it straight, and in the evening we went to +Prince Orloff's box for a performance of "Carmen." +It was very Russian and wealthy. At the back of +the box were two anterooms, where we sat and +talked between the acts, and where tea, chocolates, +etc., were served. They say the Prince has £200,000 +a year. He is gigantically fat, with a real Cossack +face.</p> + +<p>Scandal is so rife here that it hardly seems to +mean scandal. They don't appear to be so much +immoral as non-moral. Everyone sits up late; +then most of them, I am told, get drunk, and then +the evening orgies begin. No one is ostracised, +everyone is called upon and "known" whatever +they have done. I suppose English respectability +would simply make them smile—if, indeed, they +believed in it.</p> + +<p><i>2 January.</i>—I don't suppose I shall ever write an +article on war charities, but I believe I ought to. +A good many facts about them have come my way, +and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> I consider that the public at home should +be told how the finances are being administered.</p> + +<p>I know of one hospital in Russia which has, +I believe, cost England £100,000. The staff consists +of nurses and doctors, dressers, etc., all fully paid. +The expenses of those in charge of it are met out of +the funds. They live in good hotels, and have +"entertaining allowances" for entertaining their +friends, and yet one of them herself volunteered the +information that the hospital is not required. The +staff arrived weeks ago, but not the stores. +Probably the building won't be opened for some +time to come, and when it is opened there will +be difficulty in getting patients to fill it.</p> + +<p>In many parts of Russia hospitals are <i>not</i> wanted. +In Petrograd there are five hundred of them run by +Russians alone.</p> + +<p>Then there is a fund for relief of the Poles, which +is administered by Princess ——. The ambulance-car +which the fund possesses is used by the Princess +to take her to the theatre every night.</p> + +<p>A great deal of money has been subscribed for +the benefit of the Armenians. Who knows how +much this has cost the givers? yet the distribution +of this large sum seems to be conducted on most +haphazard lines. An open letter arrived the other +day for the Mayor of Tiflis. There is no Mayor of +Tiflis, so the letter was brought to Major ——. It +said: "Have you received two cheques already sent? +We have had no acknowledgment." There seems to +be no check on the expenditure, and there is no local +organisation for dispensing the relief. I don't say +that it is cheating: I only say as much as I know.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">ILL-BESTOWED CHARITY</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> +A number of motor-ambulances were sent to +Russia by some generous people in England the +other day. They were inspected by Royalty before +being despatched, and arrived in the care of Mr. +----. When their engines were examined it was +found that they were tied together with bits of +copper-wire, and even with string. None of them +could be made to go, and they were returned to +England.</p> + +<p>We are desperately hard up at home just now, +and we are denying ourselves in order to send these +charitable contributions to the richest country in +the world. Gorlebeff himself (head of the Russian +Red Cross Society) has £30,000 a year. Armenians +are literally rolling in money, and it is common to +find Armenian ladies buying hats at 250 Rs. (£25) +in Tiflis. The Poles are not ruined, nor do they +seem to object to German rule, which is doing +more for them than Russia ever did. Tiflis people +are now sending money for relief to Mesopotamia. +Of the 300,000 Rs. sent by England, 70,000 Rs. +have stuck to someone's fingers.</p> + +<p>In Flanders there were many people living +in comfort such as they had probably never seen +before, at the expense of the charitable public, and +doing very little indeed all the time: cars to go +about in, chauffeurs at their disposal, petrol without +stint, and even their clothes (called uniforms +for the nonce!) paid for.</p> + +<p>And the little half-crowns that come in to run +these shows, "how hardly they are earned sometimes! +with what sacrifices they are given!" A man +in Flanders said to me one day: "We could lie down +and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> roll in tobacco, and we all help ourselves to +every blooming thing we want; and here is a note +I found in a poor little parcel of things to-night: +'We are so sorry not to be able to send more, but +money is very scarce this week.'"</p> + +<p>My own cousin brought four cars over to France, +and he told me he was simply an unpaid chauffeur at +the command of young officers coming in to shop +at Dunkirk.</p> + +<p>I am thankful to say that Mrs. Wynne and Mr. +Bevan and I have paid our own expenses ever since +the war began, and given things too. And I think +a good many of our own corps in Flanders used to +contribute liberally and pay for all they had. +People here tell us that their cars have all been +commandeered, and they are used for the wives of +Generals, who never had entered one before, and +who proudly do their shopping in them.</p> + +<p>War must be a military matter, and these things +must end, unless money is to find its way into the +possession of the vultures who are always at hand +when there is any carcase about.</p> + +<p><i>5 January.</i>—Absolutely nothing to write about. +I saw Gorlebeff, Domerchekoff, and Count +<a class="correction" title="index has "Tysczkievez"; most likely meant to be the Polish name "Tyszkiewicz"">Tysczkievcz</a> of the Croix Rouge about my plans. +They suggest my going to Urumiyah in Persia, +where workers seem to be needed. The only other +opening seems to be to go to Count Groholski's +new little hospital on the top of the mountains. +Mr. Hills, the American missionary, wants me first +to go with him to see the Armenian refugees at +Erivan, but we can't get transports for his gifts of +clothing for them.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">A PRESENTIMENT</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> +Before I left England I had a very strange, +almost an overwhelming presentiment that I had +better not come to Russia. I had by that time +promised Mrs. Wynne that I would come, and +I couldn't see that it would be the right thing +to chuck her. I thought the work would +suffer if I stayed at home, as she might find it +impossible to get any other woman who would pay +her own way and consent to be away for so long a +time. Our prayers are always such childish things—prayer +itself is only a cry—and I remember +praying that if I was "meant to stay at home" +some substitute might be found for me. This +all seems too absurd when one views it in the +light of what afterwards happened. My vision +of "honour" and "work" seem for the moment +ridiculous, and yet I know that I was not so +foolish as I seem, for I got a written statement +from Mr. Hume Williams (Mrs. Wynne's trustee), +saying, "A unit has been formed, consisting of +Mrs. Wynne, Miss Macnaughtan, etc., and it has +been accepted by the Russian Red Cross." The +idea of being in Russia and having to look for +work never in my wildest moments entered my +head—and this is the end of the "vision," I suppose.</p> + +<p><i>Russian Christmas Day.</i>—Took a car and went +for a short run into the country. Weather fine and +bright.</p> + +<p>There is severe fighting in Galicia, and the +rumour is that Urumiyah—the place to which I am +going—has been evacuated.</p> + +<p>My impression of Russia deepens—that it is run +by beautiful women and rich men; and yet how +charming<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> everyone is to meet! Hardly anyone is +uninteresting, and half the men are good-looking. +The Cossack-dress is very handsome, and nearly +everyone wears it. When the colour is dark red +and the ornaments are of silver the effect is +unusually good. They all walk well. One is +amongst a primitive people, but a remarkably fine +one!</p> + +<p><i>10 January.</i>—I am taking French lessons. This +would appear to be a simple matter, even in Russia, +but it has taken me three weeks to get a teacher. +The first to come required a rest, and must decline; +the second was recalled by an old employer; the +third had too many engagements; the fourth came +and then holidays began, as they always do! First +our Christmas, then the Russian Christmas, then +the Armenian Christmas, leading on to three New +Year Days! After that the Baptism, with its +holidays and its vigils.</p> + +<p>There is only one sort of breakfast-roll in this +hotel which is soft enough to eat; it is not made +on festivals, nor on the day after a festival. I can +honestly say we hardly ever see one.</p> + +<p>With much fear and trembling I have bought a +motor-car. No work seems possible without it. +The price is heavy, but everyone says I shall be +able to get it back when I leave. All the same I +shake in my shoes—a chauffeur, tyres, petrol, mean +money all the time. One can't stop spending out +here. It is like some fate from which one can't +escape. Still the car is bought, and I suppose now +I shall get work.</p> + + +<div class="sidenote">DIFFICULTIES</div> + +<p>We are all in the same boat. Mrs. Wynne has +waited<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> for her ambulances for three months, and I +hear that even the Anglo-Russian hospital, with +every name from Queen Alexandra's downwards on +the list of its patrons, is in "one long difficulty." It +is Russia, and nothing but Russia, that breaks us all. +Everything is promised, nothing is done. The +only <i>hope</i> of getting a move on is by bribery, and +one may bribe the wrong people till one finds one's +way about.</p> + +<p><i>13 January.</i>—The car took us up the Kajour +road, and behaved well; but the chauffeur drove +us into a bridge on the way down, and had to be +dismissed. Tried to go to Erivan, but the new +chauffeur mistook the road, so we had to return to +Tiflis. N.B.—Another holiday was coming on, +and he wanted to be at home. <i>I actually used to +like difficulties!</i></p> + +<p><i>15 January.</i>—Started again for Erivan. All +went well, and we had a lovely drive till about +6 p.m. The dusk was gathering and we were up +in the hills, when "bang!" went something, and +nothing on earth would make the car move. We +unscrewed nuts, we lighted matches, we got out +the "jack," but we could not discover what was +wrong. So where were we to spend the night?</p> + +<p>In a fold of the grey hills was a little grey village—just +a few huts belonging to Mahomedan +shepherds, but there was nothing for it but to ask +them for shelter. Fortunately, Dr. Wilson knew +the language, and he persuaded the "head man" +to turn out for us. His family consisted of about +sixteen persons, all sleeping on the floor. They gave +us the clay-daubed little place, and fortunately it +contained<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> a stove, but nothing else. The snow +was all round us, but we made up the fire and got +some tea, which we carried with us, and finally slept +in the little place while the chauffeur guarded +the car.</p> + +<p>In the morning nothing would make the car +budge an inch, and, seeing our difficulty, the +Mahomedans made us pay a good deal for horses +to tow the thing to the next village, where we +heard there was a blacksmith. We followed in a +hay-cart. We got to a Malokand settlement +about 5 o'clock, and found ourselves in an extraordinarily +pretty little village, and were given +shelter in the very cleanest house I ever saw. +The woman was a perfect treasure, and made us +soup and gave us clean beds, and honey for +breakfast. The chauffeur found that our shaft was +broken, and the whole piece had to go back to +Tiflis.</p> + +<p>It was a real blow, our trip knocked on the head +again, and now how were we to get on? The +railway was 48 versts away, and the railway had +to be reached. We hired one of those painful +little carts, which are made of rough poles on +wheels, and, clinging on by our eyelids, we drove as +far as an Armenian village, where a snowstorm +came on, and we took shelter with a "well-to-do" +Armenian family, who gave us lunch and displayed +their wool-work and were very friendly. From +there we got into another "deelyjahns" of the +painful variety, and jolted off for about 25 miles, +till, as night fell, we struck the railway, and were +given two wooden benches to sleep on in a small +waiting-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span>room. People came and went all night, +and we slept with one eye open till 2 a.m., when +the chauffeur took a train to Tiflis. We sat up till +6 a.m., when the train, two hours late, started for +Erivan, where we arrived pretty well "cooked" +at 11 p.m.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">ERIVAN</div> + +<p><i>Erivan. 20 January.</i>—Last night's experiences +were certainly very "Russian." We had wired for +rooms, but although the message had been received +nothing was prepared. The miserable rooms were +an inch thick in dust, there were no fires, and no +sheets on the beds! We went to a restaurant—fortunately +no Russian goes to bed early—and +found the queerest place, empty save for a band +and a lady. The lady and the band were having +supper. She, poor soul, was painted and dyed, +but she offered her services to translate my French +for me when the waiters could understand nothing +but Russian. I was thankful to eat something and +go to bed under my fur coat.</p> + +<p>To-day we have been busy seeing the Armenian +refugees. There are 17,000 of them in this city of +30,000 inhabitants. We went from one place to +another, and always one saw the same things and +heard the same tales.</p> + +<p>Since the war broke out I think I have seen the +actual breaking of the wave of anguish which has +swept over the world (I often wonder if I can "feel" +much more!). There was Dunkirk and its +shambles, there was ruined Belgium, and there was, +above all, the field hospital at Furnes, with its +horrible courtyard, the burning heap of bandages, +and the mattresses set on edge to drip the blood off +them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> and then laid on some bed again. I can +never forget it. I was helping a nurse once, and +all the time I was sitting on a dead man and never +knew it!</p> + +<p>And now I am hearing of one million Armenians +slaughtered in cold blood. The pitiful women in +the shelters were saying, "We are safe because we +are old and ugly; all the young ones went to the +harems." Nearly all the men were massacred. +The surplus children and unwanted women were +put into houses and burned alive. Everywhere +one heard, "We were 4,000 in one village, and +only 143 escaped;" "There were 30 of us, and +now only a few children remain;" "All the men +are killed." These were things one saw for +oneself, heard for oneself. There was nothing +sensational in the way the women told their stories.</p> + +<p>Russia does what she can in the way of "relief." +She gives 4-1/2 Rs. per month to each person. This +gives them bread, and there might be fires, for +stoves are there, but no one seems to have the +gumption to put them up. Here and there men and +women are sleeping on valuable rugs, which look +strange in the bare shelters. Most of the women +knitted, and some wove on little "fegir" looms. +The dullness of their existence matches the tragedy +of it. The food is so plain that it doesn't want +cooking—being mostly bread and water; but +sometimes a few rags are washed, and there is an +attempt to try and keep warm. Yet I have heard +an English officer say that nothing pleases a +Russian more than to ask, "When is there to be +another Armenian massacre?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> +The Armenians are hated. I wonder Christ +doesn't do more for them considering they were the +first nation in the world to embrace Christianity; +but then, one wonders about so many things during +this war. Oh, if we could stamp out the madness +that seems to accompany religion, and just live +sober, kind, sensible lives, how good it would be; but +the Turks must burn women and children, alive, +because, poor souls, they think one thing and the +Turks think another! And men and women are +hating and killing each other because Christ, says +one, had a nature both human and divine, and, says +another, the two were merged in one. And a +third says that Christ was equal to the Father, +while a whole Church separated itself on the +question of Sabellianism, or "The Procession of +the Son."</p> + +<p>Poor Christ, once crucified, and now dismembered +by your own disciples, are you glad you came to +earth, or do you still think God forsook you, and +did you, too, die an unbeliever? The crucifixion +will never be understood until men know that its +worst agony consisted in the disbelief which first of +all doubts God and then must, by all reason, doubt +itself. The resurrection comes when we discover +that we are God and He is us.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">ETCHMIADZIN</div> + +<p><i>21 January.</i>—To-day, I drove out to Etchmiadzin +with Mr. Lazarienne, an Armenian, to see that +curious little place. It is the ecclesiastical city of +Armenia—its little Rome, where the Catholicus +lives. He was ill, but a charming Bishop—Wardepett +by name—with a flowing brown beard and +long black silk hood, made us welcome and gave us +lunch,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> and then showed us the hospital—which had +no open windows, and smelt horrible—and the +lovely little third-century "temple." Then he took +us round the strange, quiet little place, with its +peaceful park and its three old brown churches, +which mark what must once have been a great city +and the first seat of a national Christianity. Now +there are perhaps 300 inhabitants, but Mount Ararat +dominates it, and Mount Ararat is not a hill. It is a +great white jewel set up against a sheet of dazzling +blue.</p> + +<p>Hills and ships always seem to me to be alive, +and I think they have a personality of their own. +Ararat stands for the unassailable. It is like some +great fact, such as that what is beautiful must be +true. It is grand and pure and lovely, and when +the sun sets it is more than this, for then its top is +one sheet of rose, and it melts into a mystic hill, +and one knows that whatever else may "go to +Heaven" Ararat goes there every night.</p> + +<p>We visited the old Persian palace built on the +river's cliff, and looked out over the gardens to the +hills beyond, and saw the mosque, with its blue +roof against the blue sky, and its wonderful covering +of old tiles, which drop like leaves and are left +to crumble.</p> + +<p><i>Tiflis. 24 January.</i>—I left Erivan on Sunday, +January 23rd. It was cold and sharp, and the +train was crowded. People were standing all down +the corridors, as usual. Nothing goes quicker than +eight miles an hour, nothing is punctual, nothing +arrives. The stations are filthy, and the food is +quite uneatable. I often despair of this country, +and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> if the Russians were not our Allies I should +feel inclined to say that nothing would do them so +much good as a year or two of German conquest. +No one, after the first six months, has been enthusiastic +over the war, and the soldiers want to get +home. One young officer, 26 years old, has been +loafing in Tiflis for six months, and has at last been +arrested. Another took his ticket on eight successive +nights to leave the place and never moved. At +last he was locked in his room, and a motor-car +ordered to take him to the station. He got into it, +and was not heard of for three days, when his wife +appeared, and found her husband somewhere in the +town.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wynne and Mr. Bevan have gone on ahead +to Baku, but I must wait for my damaged car. A +young officer in this hotel shot himself dead this +morning. No one seems to mind much.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">RUSSIAN SOCIETY</div> + +<p><i>25 January.</i>—Last night I was invited to play +bridge by one of the richest women in Russia. Her +room was just a converted bedroom, with a dirty +wall-paper. The packs of cards were such as one +might see railway-men playing with in a lamp-room. +Our stakes were a few kopeks, and the refreshments +consisted of one tepid cup of tea, without either milk +or lemon, and not a biscuit to eat. We all sat with +shawls on, as our hostess said it wasn't worth while +to light a fire so late at night. A nice little Princess +Musaloff and Prince Napoleon Murat played with +me. We were rich in titles, but our shoulders +were cold.</p> + +<p>I have not seen a single nice or even comfortable +room since I left England, and although some +women<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> dress well, and have pretty cigarette-boxes +from the renowned Faberjé, other things about +them are all wrong. The furniture in their rooms +is covered with plush, and the ornaments (to me) +suggest a head-gardener's house at home with "an +enlargement of mother" over the mantelpiece; or +a Clapham drawing-room, furnished during some +happy year when cotton rose, or copper was +cornered. In this hotel the carpets are in holes in +the passages, and there are few servants; but I don't +fancy that the people here notice things very much.</p> + +<p>I went to see Mme. —— one day in her new +house. The rooms were large and handsome. +There was a picture of a cow at one end of the +drawing-room, and a mirror framed in plush at the +other!</p> + +<p>I must draw a "character" one day of the very +charming woman who is absolutely indifferent to +people's feelings. The fact that some humble soul +has prepared something for her, or that a sacrifice +has been made, or that one kind speech would +satisfy, does not occur to her. These are the people +who chuck engagements when they get better invitations, +and always I seem to see them with expensive +little bags and chains and Faberjé enamels. Men +will slave for such women—will carry things for +them, and serve them. They have "success" until +they are quite old, and after they have taken to +rouge and paint. A tired woman hardly ever gets +anything carried for her.</p> + +<p><i>26 January.</i>—A day's march nearer home! This +is the Feast of St. Nina. There is always a feast +or a fête here. People walk about the streets, they +give<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> each other rich cakes, and work a little less +than usual.</p> + +<p>This hotel still keeps its cripples. Prince Murat +sits on his little chair on the landing. Prince +Tschelikoff has his heart all wrong; there is the +man with one leg.</p> + +<p>Now Mlle. Lepnakoff, the singer, Musaloff, in +his red coat, and some heavy Generals are here. +We have the same food every day.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">ENFORCED IDLENESS</div> + +<p>Perhaps I was pretty near having a breakdown +when I came abroad, and the enforced idleness of +this life may have been Providential (all my hair +was falling out, and my eyes were very bad, and +the war was wearing me down rather); but to sit +in an hotel bedroom or to potter over trifles in +sitting-rooms seems a poor sort of way of passing +one's time. To rest has always seemed to me very +hard work. I can't even go to bed without a pile +of papers beside me to work at during the night or +in the early morning!</p> + +<p>When the power of writing leaves me, as it does +fitfully and without warning, I have a feeling of +loneliness, which helps to convince me of what I +have always felt, that this power comes from outside, +and can only be explained psychically. I asked a +great writer once if he ever experienced the feeling +I had of being "left," and he told me that sometimes +during the time of desolation he had seriously +contemplated suicide.</p> + +<p><i>30 January.</i>—I got a telephone message from +Mr. Bevan last night. He says Baku is too horrible, +and there is no news of the cars. People are telling +me now that if instead of cars we had given money, +we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> should have been fêted and decorated and +extolled to the skies; but then, where would the +money have gone? Last week the two richest +Armenian merchants in this town were arrested for +cheating the soldiers out of thousands of yards of +stuff for their coats. A Government official could +easily be found to say that the cloth had been +received, and meanwhile what has the soldier to +cover him in the trenches?</p> + +<p>Armenians are certainly an odious set of people, +and their ingratitude is equalled by their meanness +and greed. Mr. Hills, who is doing the Armenian +relief work here, pays all his own expenses, and +he can't get a truck to take his things to the +refugees without paying for it, while he is often +asked the question, "Why can't you leave these +things alone?" Now that Mrs. Wynne has left I +am asked the same question about her. Russia +can "break" one very successfully.</p> + +<p>The weather has turned cold, and there is tearing +wind and snow.</p> + +<p><i>1 February.</i>—"No," says I to myself, in a +supremely virtuous manner, "I shall not be beaten +by this enervating existence here. I'll do <i>something</i>—if +it's only sewing a seam."</p> + +<p>So out came needles and cotton and mending +and hemming, but, would it be believed, I am +afflicted with two "doigts blancs" (festered fingers), +and have to wear bandages, which prevent my +doing even the mildest seam. Oddly enough, this +"maladie" is a sort of epidemic here. The fact is, +the dust is full of microbes, and no one is too well +nourished.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">SOME "MALADES IMAGINAIRES"</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> +I am rather amused by those brave strong people +who "don't make a fuss about their health." One +hears from them almost daily that their temperature +has gone up to 103°; "but it's nothing," they say +heroically, "or if it is, it's only typhoid, and who +cares for a little typhoid?" Does a head ache, there +is "something very queer about it, but"—pushing +back hair from hot brow—"no one is to worry about +it. It will be better to-morrow; or if it really is +going to be fever, we must just try to make the +best of it." A sty in the eye is cataract, "but lots +of blind people are very happy;" and a bilious +attack is generally that mysterious, oft-recurring +and interesting complaint "camp fever." Cheer up, +no one is to be discouraged if the worst happens! A +thermometer is produced and shaken and applied. +The temperature is too low now; it is probably +only typhus, and we mean to be brave and get up.</p> + +<p><i>3 February.</i>—Last night we played bridge. All +the princes and princesses moistened their thumbs +before dealing, and no one is above using a +"crachoir" on the staircase! Oh for one hour of +England! In all my travels I have only found one +foreign race which seemed to me to be well-bred +(as I understand it), and that is the native of India. +The very best French people come next; and the +Spaniard knows how to bow, but he clears his throat +in an objectionable manner. None of them have +been licked! That is the trouble. An Eton +boy of fifteen could give them all points, and beat +them with his hands in his pockets.</p> + +<p>I am quite sure that the British nation is really +superior to all others. Ours is the only well-bred +race,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> and the only generous or hospitable nation. +Fancy a foreigner keeping "open house"! Here +the entertainment is a glass of thickened tea, and +the stove is frequently not lighted even on a chilly +evening. Since I have been in Russia I have had +nothing better or more substantial given to me +(by the Russians) than a piece of cake, except by +the Grand Duke. We brought heaps of letters of +introduction, and people called, but that is all, or +else they gave an "evening" with the very lightest +refreshments I have ever seen. Someone plays +badly on the piano, there is a little bridge, and a +samovar!</p> + +<p><i>6 February.</i>—The queer epidemic of "gathered +fingers" continues here. Having two I am in the +fashion. They make one awkward, and more idle +than ever. A lot of people come in and out of my +sitting-room to "cheer me up," and everyone wants +me to tell their fortune. Mrs. Wynne and Mr. +Bevan are still at Baku.</p> + +<p>Last night I went to Prince Orloff's box to hear +Lipkofskaya in "Faust."</p> + +<p>My car has come back, and is running well, but +the weather has been cold and stormy, with snow +drifting in from the hills. I took Mme. Derfelden +and her husband to Kajura to-day. Now that I +have the car everyone wants me to work with them. +The difficulty of transport is indescribable. Without +a car is like being without a leg. One simply can't +get about. In order to get a seat on a train people +walk up the line and bribe the officials at the place +where it is standing to allow them to get on <a class="correction" title="missing period in original">board.</a></p> + + + +<hr class="full" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III_IV" id="CHAPTER_III_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV +<span class="totoc"><a href="#CONTENTS">ToC</a></span></h2> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span></p> + +<h3>ON THE PERSIAN FRONT</h3> + + +<p><i>8 February.</i>—A "platteforme" having been found +for my car, I and M. Ignatieff of the Red Cross +started for Baku to-day. We found our little party +at the Métropole Hotel. Went to the MacDonell's +to lunch. He is Consul. They are quite charming +people, and their little flat was open to us all the +time we were at Baku.</p> + +<p>The place itself is wind-blown and fly-blown +and brown, but the harbour is very pretty, with its +crowds of shipping, painted with red hulls, which +make a nice bit of colour in the general drab of the +hills and the town. There are no gardens and no +trees, and all enterprise in the way of town-planning +and the like is impossible owing to the Russian +habit of cheating. They have tried for sixteen +years to start electric trams, but everyone wants too +much for his own pocket. The morals become +dingier and dingier as one gets nearer Tartar +influence, and no shame is thought of it. Most of +the stories one hears would blister the pages of +a diary. When a house of ill-fame is opened it is +publicly blessed by the priest!</p> + +<p><i>Kasvin. 18 February.</i>.—We spent a week at +Baku and grumbled all the time, although really +we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> were not at all unhappy. The MacDonells +were always with us, and we had good games +of bridge with Ignatieff in the evenings. We went +to see the oil city at Baku, and one day we motored +to the far larger one further out. One of the +directors, an Armenian, went with us, and gave us +at his house the very largest lunch I have ever seen. +It began with many plates of zakouska (hors +d'œuvres), and went on to a cold entrée of cream +and chickens' livers; then grilled salmon, with some +excellent sauce, and a salad of beetroot and cranberries. +This was followed by an entrée of kidneys, +and then we came to soup, the best I have ever +eaten; after soup, roast turkey, followed by chicken +pilau, sweets and cheese. It was impossible even to +taste all the things, but the Georgian cook must +have been a "cordon bleu."</p> + +<p>On February 16th one of the long-delayed cars +arrived, and we were in ecstasies, and took our +places on the steamer for Persia; but the radiator +had been broken on the way down, and Mrs. Wynne +was delayed again. I started, as my car was +arranged for, and had to go on board. Also, +I found I could be of use to Mr. Scott of the +Tehran Legation, who was going there. We +travelled on the boat together, and had an excellent +crossing to Enzeli, a lovely little port, and then we +took my car and drove to Resht, where Mr. and +Mrs. McLaren, the Consul and his wife, kindly put +us up. Their garden is quiet and damp; the house +is damp too, and very ugly. There are only two +other English people (at the bank) to form the +society of the place, and it must be a bit lonely for +a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> young woman. I found the situation a little +tragic.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">KASVIN</div> + +<p>We drove on next day to this place (Kasvin), and +Mr. and Mrs. Goodwin were good enough to ask us +to stay with them. The big fires in the house +were very cheering after our cold drive in the snow. +The moonlight was marvellous, and the mountain +passes were beyond words picturesque. We passed +a string of 150 camels pacing along in the moonlight +and the snow. All of them wore bells which jingled +softly. Around us were the weird white hills, with +a smear of mist over them. The radiant moon, the +snow, and the chiming camels I shall never forget.</p> + +<p>Captain Rhys Williams was also at the Goodwins; +and as he was in very great anxiety to get to +Hamadan, I offered to take him in my car, and let +Mr. Scott do the last stage of the journey in the +Legation car to Tehran. We were delayed one +day at Kasvin, which was passed very pleasantly in +the sheltered sunny compound of the house. My +little white bedroom was part of the "women's +quarters" of old days, and with its bright fire +at night and the sun by day it was a very comfortable +place in which to perch.</p> + +<p><i>Hamadan. 24 February.</i>—Captain Williams and +I left Kasvin at 8 a.m. on February 19th.</p> + +<p>I had always had an idea that Persia was in the +tropics. <i>Where</i> I got this notion I can't say. As +soon as we left sheltered Kasvin and got out on to +the plains the cold was as sharp as anything I have +known. Snow lay deep on every side, and the icy +wind nearly cut one in two. We stopped at a little +"tschinaya" (tea-house), and ate some sandwiches +which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> we carried with us. I also had a flask of +Sandeman's port, given me last Christmas by Sir +Ivor Maxwell. I think a glass of this just prevented +me from being frozen solid. We drove on to the +top of the pass, and arrived there about 3 o'clock. +We found some Russian officers having an excellent +lunch, and we shared ours and had some of theirs. +We saw a lot of game in the snow—great coveys +of fat partridges, hares by the score, a jackal, two +wolves, and many birds. The hares were very odd, +for after twilight fell, and we lit our lamps, they +seemed quite paralysed by the glare, and used to sit +down in front of the car.</p> + +<p>We passed a regiment of Cossacks, extended in a +long line, and coming over the snow on their strong +horses. We began to get near war once more, and +to see transport and guns. General Baratoff wants +us up here to remove wounded men when the +advance begins towards Bagdad.</p> + +<p>The cold was really as bad as they make after the +sun had sunk, and an icy mist enveloped the hills. +We got within sight of the clay-built, flat Persian +town of Hamadan about 10 p.m., but the car +couldn't make any way on the awful roads, so I left +Captain Williams at the barracks, and came on to +the Red Cross hospital with two Russian officers, +one a little the worse for drink.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">ARRIVAL AT HAMADAN</div> + +<p>With the genius for muddling which the Russians +possess in a remarkable degree no preparations had +been made for me. Rather an unpleasant Jew +doctor came to the gateway with two nurses, and +the officers began to flirt with the girls, and to pay +them compliments. Some young Englishmen, one +of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> whom was the British Consul, then appeared on +the scene, so we began to get forward a little +(although it seemed to me that we stood about in +the snow for a terrible long time and I got quite +frozen!). As it was then past midnight I felt I had +had enough, so I made for the American missionary's +house, which was pointed out to me, and he and his +wife hopped out of bed, and, clad in curious grey +dressing-gowns, they came downstairs and got me a +cup of hot tea, which I had wanted badly for many +hours. There was no fireplace in my room, and +the other fires of the house were all out, but the old +couple were kindness and goodness itself, and in the +end I rolled myself up in my faithful plaid and +slept at their house.</p> + +<p>The next day—Sunday, the 20th—Mr. Cowan, +the young Consul, and a Mr. Lightfoot, came round +and bore me off to the Consulate. On Monday I +began to settle in, but even now I find it difficult +to take my bearings, as we have been in a heavy +mountain fog ever since I got here. There is +a little English colony, the bank manager, Mr. +MacMurray, and his wife—a capable, energetic +woman, and an excellent working partner—Mr. +McLean, a Scottish clerk, a Mr. McDowal, also a +Scot, and a few other good folk; whom in Scotland +one would reckon the farmer class, but none the +worse for that, and never vulgar however humbly +born.</p> + +<p>On Monday, the 21st, I called on the Russian +element—Mme. Kirsanoff, General Baratoff, etc. +They were all cordial, but nothing will convince me +that Russians take this war seriously. They do +the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> thing as comfortably as possible. "My +country" is a word one never hears from their lips, +and they indulge in masterly retreats too often for +my liking. The fire of the French, the dogged +pluck of the British, seem quite unknown to them. +Literally, no one seems much interested. There is +a good deal of fuss about a "forward movement" +on this front; but I fancy that at Kermanshah and +at —— there will be very little resistance, and the +troops there are only Persian gendarmerie. No +doubt the most will be made of the Russian +"victory," but compared with the western front, +this is simply not war. I often think of the guns +firing day and night, and the Taubes overhead, and +the burning towns of Flanders, and then I find +myself living a peaceful life, with an occasional +glimpse of a regiment passing by.</p> + + +<hr /> + +<p class="center"><i>To Mrs. Charles Percival.</i></p> + +<p class="lh_ind2"><span class="smcap">British Vice-Consulate,</span></p> +<p class="lh_ind4"><span class="smcap">Hamadan.</span></p> +<p class="lh_ind0"><i>23 February, 1916.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dearest Tabby,</span></p> + +<p>We are buried in snow, and every road is a +dug-out, with parapets of snow on either side. +All journeys have to be made by road, and generally +over mountain passes, where you may or may not +get through the snow. One sees "breakdowns" all +along the routes, and everywhere we go we have +to take food and blankets in case of a camp out. +I have had to buy a motor-car, and I got a very +good one in Tiflis, but they are so scarce one has to +pay a ransom for them. I am hoping it won't be +quite<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> smashed up, and that I shall be able to sell it +for something when I leave.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">THE DIFFICULTY OF TRANSPORT</div> + +<p>Transport is the difficulty everywhere in these +vast countries, with their persistent want of railways; +so that the most necessary way of helping +the wounded is to remove them as painlessly and +expeditiously as possible, and this can only be done +by motor-cars. Only one of Mrs. Wynne's ambulances +has yet arrived, and in the end I came +on here without her and Mr. Bevan. I was +wanted to give a member of the Legation at Tehran +a lift; and, still more important, I had to bring a +soldier of consequence here. So long as one can +offer a motor-car one is everybody's friend.</p> + +<p>Yesterday I was in request to go up to a pass +and fetch two doctors, who had broken down in the +snow. The wind is often a hurricane, and I am +told there will be no warm weather till May. I +look at a light silk dressing-gown and gauze +underclothing, and wonder why it is that no one +seems able to tell one what a climate will be like. +I have warm things too, I am glad to say, although +our luggage is now of the lightest, and is only what +we can take in a car. The great thing is to be quite +independent. No one would dream of bringing on +heavy luggage or anything of that sort, except, of +course, Legation people, who have their own transport +and servants.</p> + +<p>On journeys one is kindly treated by the few +Scottish people (they all seem to be Scots) scattered +here and there. Everywhere I go I find the +usual Scottish couple trying to "have things nice," +and longing for mails from home. One woman +was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> newly married, and had only one wish in +life, and that was for acid drops. Poor soul, she +wasn't well, and I mean to make her the best +imitation I can and send them to her. They make +their houses wonderfully comfortable; <i>but</i> the +difficulty of getting things! Another woman had +written home for her child's frock in August, and +got it by post on February 15th. Cases of things +coming by boat or train take far longer, or never +arrive at all.</p> + +<p>I shall be working with the Russian hospital here +till our next move. There are 25 beds and 120 +patients. Of course we are only waiting to push on +further. The political situation is most interesting, +but I must not write about it, of course. It is +rather wonderful to have seen the war from so +many quarters.</p> + +<p>The long wait for the cars was quite maddening, +but I believe it did me good. I was just about +"through." Now I am in a bachelor's little house, +full of terrier dogs and tobacco smoke; and when I +am not at the hospital I darn socks and play +bridge.</p> + +<p>Now that really is all my news, I think. Empire +is not made for nothing, and one sees some plucky +lives in these out-of-the-way parts. I did not take +a fancy to my host at one house where we stayed, +and something made me think his wife was bullied +and not very happy. A husband would have to be +quite all right to compensate for exile, mud, and +solitude. Always my feeling is that we want far +more people—especially educated people, of course—to +run the world; yet we continue to shoot down +our<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> best and noblest, and when shall we ever see +their like again?</p> + +<p class="lf_ind6">Always, my dear,</p> +<p class="lf_sal">Your loving</p> +<p class="lf_sig"><span class="smcap">S. Macnaughtan.</span></p> + +<p>I hope to get over to Tehran on my "transport +service," and there I may find a mail. Some +people called ——, living near Glasgow, had nine +sons, eight of whom have been killed in the war. +The ninth is delicate, and is doing Red Cross +work.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><i>26 February.</i>—On Tuesday a Jew doctor took my +motor-car by fraud, so there had to be an enquiry, +and I don't feel happy about it yet. With Russians +<i>anything</i> may happen. I have begun to suffer from +my chillsome time getting here, and also my mouth +and chin are very bad; so I have had to lie doggo, +and see an ancient Persian doctor, who prescribed +and talked of the mission-field at the same time.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">MISSIONARIES AND RELIGION</div> + +<p>I am struck by one thing, which is so naïvely +expressed out here that it is very humorous, and +that is the firm and formidable front which the +best sort of men show towards religion. To all of +them it means missionaries and pious talk, and to +hear them speak one would imagine it was something +between a dangerous disease and a disgrace. +The best they can say of any clergyman (whom they +loathe) or missionary, is, "He never tried the +Gospel on with me." A religious young man means +a sneak, and one who swears freely is generally +rather a good fellow. When one lives in the +wilds<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> I am afraid that one often finds that this view +is the right one, although it isn't very orthodox; +but the pi-jaw which passes for religion seems +deliberately calculated to disgust the natural man, +who shows his contempt for the thing wholesomely +as becomes him. He means to smoke, he means to +have a whisky-peg when he can get it, and a game +of cards when that is possible. His smoke is +harmless, he seldom drinks too much, and he plays +fair at all games, but when he finds that these harmless +amusements preclude him from a place in the +Kingdom of Heaven he naturally—if he has the +spirit of a mouse—says, "All right. Leave me +out. I am not on in this show."</p> + +<p><i>27 February.</i>—On Sunday one always thinks of +home. I am rather inclined to wonder what my +family imagine I am actually doing on the Persian +front. No doubt some of my dear contemporaries +saddle me with noble deeds, but I still seem unable +to strike the "noble" tack. Even my work in +hospital has been stopped by a telegram from the +Red Cross, saying, "Don't let Miss Macnaughtan +work yet." A typhus scare, I fancy. Such rot. +But I am used now to hearing all the British out +here murmur, "What <i>can</i> be the good of this long +delay?"</p> + +<div class="sidenote">HOW NEWS TRAVELS IN PERSIA</div> + +<p>I am still staying at the British Consulate. The +Consul, Mr. Cowan, is a good fellow, and Mr. +Lightfoot, his chum, is a real backwoodsman, full +of histories of adventures, fights, "natives," and +wars in many lands. He seems to me one of those +headstrong, straight, fine fellows whom one only +meets in the wilds. England doesn't agree with +them;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> they haven't always a suit of evening +clothes; but in a tight place one knows how cool he +would be, and for yarns there is no one better. He +tells one a lot about this country, and he knows +the Arabs like brothers. Their system of communicating +with each other is as puzzling to him as it is +to everyone else. News travels faster among them +than any messenger or post can take it. At Bagdad +they heard from these strange people of the fall of +Basra, which is 230 miles away, within 25 hours of +its having been taken. Mr. Lightfoot says that +even if he travels by car Arab news is always +ahead of him, and where he arrives with news it is +known already. Telegraphy is unknown in the +places he speaks of, except in Bagdad, of course, +and Persia owns exactly one line of railway, eight +miles long, which leads to a tomb!</p> + +<p>More important than any man here are the dogs—Smudge, +Jimmy, and the puppy. Most of the +conversation is addressed to them. All of it is +about them.</p> + +<p><i>28 February. A day on the Persian front.</i>—I +wake early because it is always so cold at +4 a.m., and I generally boil up water for my hot-water +bottle and go to sleep again. Then at 8 +comes the usual Resident Sahib's servant, whom I +have known in many countries and in many climes. +He is always exactly alike, and the Empire depends +upon him! He is thin, he is mysterious. He is +faithful, and allows no one to rob his master but +himself. He believes in the British. He worships +British rule, and he speaks no language but his +own, though he probably knows English perfectly, +and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> listens to it at every meal without even the +cock of an ear! He is never hurried, never +surprised. What he thinks his private idol may +know—no one else does. His master's boots—especially +the brown sort—are part of his religion. +He understands an Englishman, and is unmoved by +his behaviour, whatever it may be. I have met +him in India, in Kashmir, at Embassies, in Consulates, +on steamers, and I have never known his +conduct alter by a hair's breadth. He is piped in +red, and let that explain him, as it explains much +else that is British. Just a thin red line down the +length of a trouser or round a coat, and the man +thus adorned is part of the Empire.</p> + +<p>The man piped in red lights my fire every +morning in Persia, and arranges my tub, and we +breakfast very late because there is nothing to do +on three days of the week—<i>i.e.</i>, Friday, the Persian +Sabbath, Saturday, the Jewish Sabbath, and +Sunday, the Armenian Sunday. On these three +days neither bazaars nor offices are open. Business +is at a standstill. The Consulate smokes pipes, +develops photographs, and reads old novels. On +the four busy days we breakfast at 10 o'clock, and +during the meal we learn what the dogs have done +during the night—whether Jimmy has barked, or +Smudge has lain on someone's bed, or the puppy +"coolly put his head on my pillow."</p> + +<p>About 11 o'clock I, who am acting as wardrobe-mender +to some very untidy clothes and socks, get to +work, and the young men go to the town and appear +at lunch-time. We hear what the local news is, and +what Mr. MacMurray has said and Mr. McLean +thought,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> and sometimes one of the people from +the Russian hospital comes in. About 3 we put +on goloshes and take exercise single-file on the +pathways cut in the snow. At 5 the samovar +appears and tea and cake, and we talk to the dogs +and to each other. We dress for dinner, because +that is our creed; and we burn a good deal of wood, +and go to bed early.</p> + +<p>Travel really means movement. Otherwise, it is +far better to stay at home. I am beginning to +sympathise with the Americans who insist upon +doing two cities a day. We got some papers +to-day dated October 26th, and also a few letters of +the same date.</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<p class="center"><i>Unfinished Article on Persia found among Miss +Macnaughtan's papers.</i></p> + +<div class="sidenote">UNFINISHED ARTICLE ON PERSIA</div> + +<p>Persia is a difficult country to write about, for +unless one colours the picture too highly to be +recognisable, it is apt to be uninteresting even +under the haze of the summer sun, while in wintertime +the country disappears under a blanket of +white snow. Of course, most of us thought that +Persia was somewhere in the tropics, and it gives +us a little shock when we find ourselves living in +a temperature of 8 degrees below zero. The rays +of the sun are popularly supposed to minimise the +effect of this cold, and a fortnight's fog on the +Persian highlands has still left one a believer in this +phenomenon, for when the sun does shine, it does +it handsomely, and, according to the inhabitants, it +is only when strangers are here that it turns sulky. +Be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> that as it may, the most loyal lover of Persia +will have to admit that Persian mud is the deepest +and blackest in the world, and that snow and mud +in equal proportions to a depth of 8 inches make +anything but agreeable travelling. Snow is +indiscriminately shovelled down off the roofs of +houses on to the heads of passers-by, and great holes +in the road are accepted as the inevitable accompaniment +to winter traffic.</p> + +<p>In the bazaars—narrow, and filled with small +booths, where Manchester cotton is stacked upon +shelves—the merchants sit huddled up on their +counters, each with a cotton lahaf (quilt) over him, +under which is a small brazier of ougol (charcoal). +In this way he manages to remain in a thawed +condition, while a pipe consoles him for his little +trade and the horrible weather. Before him, in the +narrow alleys of the bazaar, Persians walk with +their umbrellas unfurled, and Russians have put +the convenient bashluk (a sort of woollen hood) +over their heads and ears. The Arab, in his long +camel-skin coat, looks impervious to the weather, +and women with veiled faces and long black cloaks +pick their way through the mire. Throngs of +donkeys, melancholy and overladen, their small +feet sinking in the slush, may be with the foot-passengers. +Some pariah dogs make a dirty patch +in the snow, and a troop of Cossacks, their long +cloaks spotted with huge snow-flakes, trot heavily +through the narrow lanes.</p> + +<p>But it is not only, nor principally, of climate that +one speaks in Persia at the present time.</p> + +<p>Persia has been stirring, if not with great events, +at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> least with important ones, and at the risk of +telling stale news, one must take a glance at the +recent history of the country and its people. It is +proverbial to say that Persia has been misgoverned +for years. It is a country and the Persians are +people who seem fated by circumstances and by +temperament to endure ill-government. A ruler is +either a despot or a knave, and frequently both. +Any system of policy is liable to change at any +moment. Property is held in the uneasy tenure of +those who have stolen it, and a long string of names +of rulers and politicians reveals the fact that most +of them have made what they could for themselves +by any means, and that perhaps, on the whole, +violence has been less detrimental to the country +than weakness.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">THE YOUNG PERSIAN MOVEMENT</div> + +<p>The worst of it is that no one seems particularly +to want the Deliverer—the great and single-minded +leader who might free and uplift the country. +Persia does not crave the ideal ruler; he might +make it very unpleasant for those who are content +and rich in their own way. It is this thing, +amongst many others, which helps to make the +situation in Persia not only difficult but almost +impossible to follow or describe, and it is, above all, +the temperament of the Persians themselves which +is the baffling thing in the way of Persian reform. +Yet reform has been spoken of loudly, and again +and again in the last few years, and the reformation +is generally known as the Nationalist or Young +Persian Movement. To follow this Movement +through its various ramifications would require a +clue as plain and as clear as a golden thread, and +the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> best we can do in our present obscurity is to +give a few of the leading features.</p> + +<p>The important and critical situation evident in +Persia to-day owes its beginning to the disturbances +in 1909, when the Constitutional Party came +into power, forcibly, and with guns ready to train +on Tehran, and when, almost without an effort, +they obtained their rights, and lost them again with +even less effort....</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<p><i>29 February.</i>—The last day of a long month. +The snow falls without ceasing, blotting out everything +that there may be to be seen. To-day, for +the first time, I realised that there are hills near. +Mr. Lightfoot and I walked to the old stone lion +which marks the gateway of Ekmadan—<i>i.e.</i>, ancient +Hamadan. I think the snow was rather thicker +than usual to-day. Mr. Lightfoot and I went to +Hamadan, plodding our way through little tramped-down +paths, with snow three feet deep on either +side. By way of being cheerful we went to see +two tombs. One was an old, old place, where slept +"the first great physician" who ever lived. In it +a dervish kept watch in the bitter cold, and some +slabs of dung kept a smouldering fire not burning +but smoking. These dervishes have been carrying +messages for Germans. Mysterious, like all religious +men, they travel through the country and distribute +their whispers and messages. The other tomb is +called Queen Esther's, though why they should +bury her at Ekmadan when she lived down at +Shushan I don't know.</p> + +<p>We went to see Miss Montgomerie the other day. +She<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> is an American missionary, who has lived at +Hamadan for thirty-three years. She has schools, +etc., and she lives in the Armenian quarter, and +devotes her life to her neighbours. Her language +is entirely Biblical, and it sounds almost racy as +she says it.</p> + +<p>There is nothing to record. Yesterday I cleaned +out my room for something to do, and in the +evening a smoky lamp laid it an inch thick in +blacks. The pass here is quite blocked, and no +one can come or go. The snow falls steadily in +fine small flakes. My car has disappeared, with +the chauffeur, at Kasvin. I hear of it being sent +to Enzeli; but the whole thing is a mystery, and is +making me very anxious. There are no answers to +any of my telegrams, and I am completely in the +dark.</p> + +<p><i>3 March.</i>—I think that to be on a frozen hill-top, +with fever, some boils, three dogs, and a blizzard, is +about as near wearing down one's spirits as anything +I know.</p> + +<p><i>5 March, Sunday.</i>—In bed all day, with the +ancient Persian in attendance.</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<p class="center"><i>The Return of the Pilgrim.</i></p> + +<div class="sidenote">THE RETURN OF THE PILGRIM</div> + +<p>This is not a story for Sunday afternoon. It is +true for one thing, and Sunday afternoon stories +are not, as a rule, true. They nearly all tell of the +return of the Prodigals, but they leave out the +return of the Pilgrims, and that is why this parable +is not for Sunday afternoon. I write it because I +never knew a true thing yet that was not of use to +someone.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> +Most of us leave home when we are grown up. +The people who never grow up stop at home. The +journey and the outward-bound vision are the +signs of an active mind stirring wholesomely or +unwholesomely as the case may be. The Prodigal +is generally accounted one of those whose sane +mind demands an outlet; but he lands in trouble, +and gets hungry, and comes back penitent, as we +have heard a thousand million times. The Far +Country is always barren, the husks of swine are +the only food to be had, and bankruptcy is +inevitable.</p> + +<p>The story has been accepted by many generations +of men as a picture of the world, with its temptations, +its sins, its moral bankruptcy, and its +illusionary and unsatisfying pleasures. Preachers +have always been fond of allusions to the husks and +swine, and the desperate hunger which there is +nothing to satisfy in the Far Country. The story +is true, God wot; it gives many a man a wholesome +fright, and keeps him at home, and its note of +forgiveness for a wasted life has proved the salvation +of many Prodigals.</p> + +<p>But there is another journey, far more often +undertaken by the young and by all those who +needs must seek—the brave, the energetic, the +good. It is towards a country distant yet ever +near, and it lies much removed from the Far +Country where swine feed. Its minarets stand +up against a clear and cloudless sky, its radiancy +shines from afar off. It is set on a hill, and the road +thither is very steep and very long, but the Pilgrims +start out bravely. They know the way! They +carry<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> torches! They have the Light within and +without, and "watchwords" for every night, and +songs for the morning. Some walk painfully, with +bleeding feet, on the path that leads to the beautiful +country, and some run joyously with eager feet. +Whatever anyone likes to say, it is a much more +crowded path than the old trail towards the pigsty. +At the first step of the journey stand Faith and +Hope and Charity, and beyond are more wondrous +things by far—Glory, Praise, Vision, Sacrifice, +Heroism, sublime Trust, the Need-to-Give, and the +Love that runs to help. And some of the Pilgrims—most +of them—get there.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">DISAPPOINTMENT</div> + +<p>But there is a little stream of Pilgrims sometimes +to be met with going the other way. They +are returning, like the Prodigal, but there is no one +to welcome them. Some are very tragic figures, +and for them the sun is for ever obscured. But there +are others—quite plain, sober men and women, +some humorists, and some sages. They have +honestly sought the Country, and they, too, have +unfurled banners and marched on; but they have +met with many things on the road which do not +match the watchwords, and they have heard many +wonderful things which, truthfully considered, do +not always appear to them to be facts. They have +called Poverty beautiful, and they have found it +very ugly; and they have called Money naught, +and they have found it to be Power. They have +found Sacrifice accepted, and then claimed by the +selfish and mean, and even Love has not been all +that was expected. The Pilgrims return. Their +poor tummies, too, are empty, but no calf is killed +for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> them, there is no feasting and no joy. They +stay at home, but neither Elder Son nor Prodigal +has any use for them. In the end they turn out +the light and go to sleep, regretting—if they have +any humour—their many virtues, which for so long +prevented them enjoying the pleasant things of +life.</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<p><i>March.</i>—I lie in bed all day up here amongst +these horrible snows. The engineer comes in sometimes +and makes me a cup of Benger's Food. For +the rest, I lean up on my elbow when I can, and cook +some little thing—Bovril or hot milk—on my Etna +stove. Then I am too tired to eat it, and the +sickness begins all over again. Oh, if I could leave +this place! If only someone would send back my +car, which has been taken away, or if I could hear +where Mrs. Wynne and Mr. Bevan are! But no, +the door of this odious place is locked, and the key +is thrown away.</p> + +<p>I have lost count of time. I just wait from day +to day, hoping someone will come and take me +away, though I am now getting so weak I don't +suppose I can travel.</p> + +<p>One wonders whether there can be a Providence in +all this disappointment. I think not. I just made a +great mistake coming out here, and I have suffered +for it. Ye gods, what a winter it has been—disillusioning, +dull, hideously and achingly disappointing!</p> + +<div class="sidenote">MEMORIES OF HOME</div> + +<p>It is too odd to think that until the war came I +was the happiest woman in the world. It is too +funny to think of my house in London, which +people<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> say is the only "salon"—a small "salon," +indeed! But I can hardly believe now in my +crowds of friends, my devoted servants, my pleasant +work, the daily budget of letters and invitations, +and the press notices in their pink slips. Then the +big lectures and the applause—the shouts when I +come in. The joy, almost the intoxication of life, +has been mine.</p> + +<p>Of course, I ought to have turned back at +Petrograd! But I thought all my work was +before me, and in Russia one can't go about alone +without knowing the way and the language of the +people. Permits are difficult, nothing is possible +unless one is attached to a body. And now I have +reached the end—<i>Persia! And there is no earthly +use for us, and there are no roads.</i></p> + + + +<hr class="full" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III_V" id="CHAPTER_III_V"></a>CHAPTER V +<span class="totoc"><a href="#CONTENTS">ToC</a></span></h2> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span></p> + +<h3>THE LAST JOURNEY</h3> + +<p>My car turned up at Hamadan on March 9th, and +on the 13th I said good-bye to my friends at the +Consulate, and left the place with a Tartar prince, +who cleared his throat from the bottom of his soul, +and spat luxuriously all the time. The mud was +beyond anything that one could imagine. There +was a sea of it everywhere, and men waded knee-deep +in slush. My poor car floundered bravely and +bumped heavily, till at last it could move no more. +Two wheels were sunk far past the hubs, and the +step of the car was under mud.</p> + +<p>The Tartar prince hailed a horse from some men +and flung himself across it, and then rode off +through the thick sea of mud to find help to move +the car. His methods were simple. He came +up behind men, and clouted them over the head, or +beat them with a stick, and drove them in front of +him. Sometimes he took out a revolver and fired +over the men's heads, making them jump; but +nothing makes them really work. We pushed on +for a mile or two, and then stuck again. This +time there were no men near, and the prince walked +on to collect some soldiers at the next station. It +was a wicked, blowy day, and I crept into a wrecked +"camion"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> and sheltered there, and ate some lunch +and slept a little. I wasn't feeling a bit well.</p> + +<p>That night we only made twenty miles, and then +we put up at a little rest-house, where the woman +had ten children. They all had colds, and coughed +all the time. She promised supper at 8 o'clock, but +kept us waiting till 10 p.m., and then a terrible +repast of batter appeared in a big tin dish, and +everyone except me ate it, and everyone drank my +wine. Then six children and their parents lay in one +tiny room, and I and a nurse occupied the hot +supper-room, and thus we lay until the cold morning +came, and I felt very ill.</p> + +<p>So the day began, and it did not improve. I was +sick all the time until I could neither think nor see. +The poor prince could do nothing, of course.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">ILLNESS AT KASVIN</div> + +<p>At last we came to a rest-house, and I felt I +could go no further. I was quite unconscious for a +time. Then they told me it was only two hours to +Kasvin, and somehow they got me on board the +motor-car, and the horrible journey began again. +Every time the car bumped I was sick. Of course +we punctured a tyre, which delayed us, and when we +got into Kasvin it was 9 o'clock. The Tartar lifted +me out of the car, and I had been told that I might +put up at a room belonging to Dr. Smitkin, but +where it was I had no idea, and I knew there would +be no one there. So I plucked up courage to go to +the only English people in the place—the Goodwins, +with whom I had stayed on my way up—and ask +for a bed. This I did, and they let me spread +my camp-bed in his little sitting-room. I was +ill indeed, and aching in every bone.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> +The next day I had to go to Smitkin's room. It +was an absolutely bare apartment, but someone +spread my bed for me, and there were some Red +Cross nurses who all offered to do things. The one +thing I wanted was food, and this they could only +get at the soldiers' mess two miles away. So all I +had was one tin of sweet Swiss milk. The day +after this I decided I must quit, whatever happened, +and get to Tehran, where there are hotels. After +one night there I was taken to a hospital. I was +alone in Persia, in a Russian hospital, where few +people even spoke French!</p> + +<p>On March 19th an English doctor rescued me. +He heard I was ill, and came to see me, and took +me off to be with his wife at his own home at +the Legation. I shall never forget it as long +as I live—the blessed change from dirty glasses and +tin basins and a rocky bed! What does illness +matter with a pretty room, and kindness showered +on one, and everything clean and fragrant? I have +a little sitting-room, where my meals are served, +and I have a fire, a bath, and a garden to sit in.</p> + +<p>God bless these good people!</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center"><i>To Lady Clémentine Waring.</i></p> + +<p class="lh_ind0"><span class="smcap">British Legation, Tehran,</span></p> +<p class="lh_ind4"><i>22 March.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Darling Clemmie,</span></p> + +<div class="sidenote">A LETTER FROM TEHRAN</div> + +<p>I am coming home, having fallen sick. Do +you know, I was thinking about you so much the +other night, for you told me that if ever I was really +"down and out" you would know. So I wondered +if, about a week ago, you saw a poor small person +(who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> has shrunk to about half her size!) in an empty +room, feeling worth nothing at all, and getting +nothing to eat and no attention! Persia isn't the +country to be ill in. I was taken to the Russian +hospital—which is an experience I don't want +to repeat!—but now I am in the hands of the +Legation doctor, and he is going to nurse me till I +am well enough to go home.</p> + +<p>There are no railways in this country, except one +of eight miles to a tomb! Hence we all have +to flounder about on awful roads in motor-cars, +which break down and have to be dug out, and +always collapse at the wrong moment, so we have +to stay out all night.</p> + +<p>You thought Persia was in the tropics? So did +I! I have been in deep snow all the time till +I came here.</p> + +<p>I think the campaign here is nearly over. It +might have been a lot bigger, for the Germans +were bribing like mad, but you can't make a +Persian wake up.</p> + +<p class="lf_ind6">Ever, dear Clemmie,</p> +<p class="lf_sal">Your loving</p> +<p class="lf_sig"><span class="smcap">S. Macnaughtan.</span></p> + +<p>So nice to know you think of me, as I know you +do.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><i>26 March.</i>—I am getting stronger, and the days +are bright. As a great treat I have been allowed +to go to church this morning, the first I have been +to since Petrograd.</p> + +<hr /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center"><i>To Miss Julia Keays-Young.</i></p> + +<p class="lh_ind0"><span class="smcap">British Legation, Tehran.</span></p> +<p class="lh_ind4"><i>1 April.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Darling Jenny,</span></p> + +<p>In case you want to make plans about +leave, etc., will you come and stop with me when +first I get home, say about the 5th or 6th May, I +can't say to a day? It will be nice to see you all +and have a holiday, and then I hope to come out to +Russia again. Did I tell you I have been ill, but +am now being nursed by a delightful English +doctor and his wife, and getting the most ideal +attention, and medicines changed at every change +in the health of the patient.</p> + +<p>I've missed everything here. I was to be +presented to the Shah, etc., etc., and to have gone +to the reception on his birthday. All the time I've +lain in bed or in the garden, but as I haven't felt +up to anything else I haven't fashed, and the Shah +must do wanting me for the present.</p> + +<p>The flowers here are just like England, primroses +and violets and Lent lilies, but I'm sure the trees +are further out at home.</p> + +<p class="lf_sal">Your most loving</p> +<p class="lf_sal"><span class="smcap">Aunt Sally.</span></p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center"><i>To Mrs. Keays-Young.</i></p> + +<p class="lh_ind0"><span class="smcap">British Legation, Tehran,</span></p> +<p class="lh_ind4"><i>8 April.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dearest Baby,</span></p> + +<p>I don't think I'll get home till quite the end +of April, as I am not supposed to be strong enough +to travel yet. My journey begins with a motor +drive<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> of 300 miles over fearful roads and a chain of +mountains always under snow. Then I have to +cross the lumpy Caspian Sea, and I shall rest at +Baku two nights before beginning the four days +journey to Petrograd. After that the fun really +begins, as one always loses all one's luggage in +Finland, and one finishes up with the North Sea. +What do you think of that, my cat?</p> + +<div class="sidenote">CONVALESCENCE</div> + +<p>Dr. Neligan is still looking after me quite +splendidly, and I never drank so much medicine in +my life. No fees or money can repay the dear man.</p> + +<p>Tehran is <i>the</i> most primitive place! You can't, +for instance, get one scrap of flannel, and if a bit of +bacon comes into the town there is a stampede for +it. People get their wine from England in two-bottle +parcels.</p> + +<p class="lf_sal">Yours as ever,</p> +<p class="lf_sig">S.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><i>Tehran. April.</i>—The days pass peacefully and +even quickly, which is odd, for they are singularly +idle. I get up about 11 a.m., and am pretty tired +when dressing is finished. Then I sit in the garden +and have my lunch there, and after lunch I lie down +for an hour. Presently tea comes; I watch the +Neligans start for their ride, and already I wonder +if <span class="smcap">I</span> was ever strong and rode!</p> + +<p>It is such an odd jump I have taken. At home +I drifted on, never feeling older, hardly counting +birthdays—always brisk, and getting through a heap +of work—beginning my day early and ending it +late. And now there is a great gulf dividing me +from youth and old times, and it is filled with dead +people whom I can't forget.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> +In the matter of dying one doesn't interfere with +Providence, but it seems to me that <i>now</i> would be +rather an appropriate time to depart. I wish I +could give my life for some boy who would like to +live very much, and to whom all things are joyous. +But alas! one can't swop lives like this—at least, I +don't see the chance of doing so.</p> + +<p>I should like to have "left the party"—quitted +the feast of life—when all was gay and amusing. +I should have been sorry to come away, but it +would have been far better than being left till all +the lights are out. I could have said truly to the +Giver of the feast, "Thanks for an excellent time." +But now so many of the guests have left, and the +fires are going out, and I am tired.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">end of the diary.</span></p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<p>The rest of the story is soon told.</p> + +<p>Miss Macnaughtan left Tehran about the middle +of April. The Persian hot weather was approaching, +and it would have been impossible for her to +travel any later in the season. The long journey +seemed a sufficiently hazardous undertaking for a +person in her weak state of health, but in Dr. +Neligan's opinion she would have run an even +greater risk by remaining in Persia during the hot +weather.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">STARTING FOR HOME</div> + +<p>Dr. Neligan's goodness and kindness to Miss +Macnaughtan will always be remembered by her +family, and he seems to have taken an enormous +amount of trouble to make arrangements for her +journey home. He found an escort for her in the +shape<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> of an English missionary who was going to +Petrograd, and gave her a pass which enabled her +to travel as expeditiously as possible. The authorities +were not allowed to delay or hinder her. She +was much too ill to stop for anything, and drove +night and day—even through a cholera village—to +the shores of the Caspian Sea.</p> + +<p>We know very few details concerning the journey +home, and I think my aunt herself did not remember +much about it. One can hardly bear to think of +the suffering it caused her. A few incidents stood +out in her memory from the indeterminate recollection +of pain and discomfort in which most of the +expedition was mercifully veiled, and we learnt +them after she returned.</p> + +<p>There was the occasion when she reached the +port on the Caspian Sea one hour after the English +boat had sailed. She called it the "English" boat, +but whether it could have belonged to an English +company, or was merely the usual boat run in +connection with the train service to England, I do +not know. A "Russian" vessel was due to leave +in a couple of hours' time, but for some reason Miss +Macnaughtan was obliged to walk three-quarters +of a mile to get permission to go by it. We can +never forget her piteous description of how she +staggered and crawled to the office and back, so ill +that only her iron strength of will could force her +tired body to accomplish the distance. She +obtained the necessary sanction, and started forth +once more upon her way.</p> + +<p>She stayed for a week at the British Embassy in +Petrograd, where her escort was obliged to leave +her,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> so the rest of the journey was undertaken +alone.</p> + +<p>We know nothing of how she got to Helsingfors, +but I believe it was at that place that she had to +walk some considerable distance over a frozen lake +to reach the ship. She was hobbling along, leaning +heavily on two sticks, and just as she stumbled and +almost fell, a young Englishman came up and +offered her his arm.</p> + +<p>In an old diary, written years before in the +Argentine, during a time when Miss Macnaughtan +was faced with what seemed overwhelming difficulties, +and when she had in her charge a very sick +man, a kind stranger came to the rescue. Her +diary entry for that day is one of heartfelt gratitude, +and ends with the words: "God always sends +someone."</p> + +<p>Certainly at Helsingfors some Protecting Power +sent help in a big extremity, and this young fellow—Mr. +Seymour—devoted himself to her for the +rest of the journey in a marvellously unselfish +manner. He could not have been kinder to her if +she had been his mother, and he actually altered +all his plans on arriving in England, and brought +her to the very door of her house in Norfolk Street. +Without his help I sometimes wonder whether my +aunt would have succeeded in reaching home, and +her own gratitude to him knew no bounds. She +used to say that in her experience if people were in +a difficulty and wanted help they ought to go to a +young man for it. She said that young men were +the kindest members of the human race.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">ARRIVAL IN ENGLAND</div> + +<p>It was on the 8th of May that Miss Macnaughtan +reached<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> home, and her travels were over for good +and all. One is only thankful that the last weeks +of her life were not spent in a foreign land but +among her own people, surrounded by all the +care and comfort that love could supply. Two of +her sisters were with her always, and her house was +thronged with visitors, who had to wait their turn +of a few minutes by her bedside, which, alas! were +all that her strength allowed.</p> + +<p>She was nursed night and day by her devoted +maid, Mary King, as she did not wish to have a +professional nurse; but no skill or care could save +her. The seeds of her illness had probably been +sown some years before, during a shooting trip in +Kashmir, and the hard work and strain of the first +year of the war had weakened her powers of +resistance. But it was Russia that killed her.</p> + +<p>Before she went there many of her friends urged +her to give up the expedition. Her maid had a premonition +that the enterprise would end in disaster, +and had begged her mistress to stay at home.</p> + +<p>"I feel sure you will never return alive ma'am," +she had urged, and Miss Macnaughtan's first words +to her old servant on her return were: "You were +right, Mary. Russia has killed me."</p> + +<p>Miss Macnaughtan rallied a little in June, and was +occasionally carried down to her library for a few +hours in the afternoon, but even that amount of +exertion was too much for her. For the last weeks +of her life she never left her room.</p> + +<p>Surely there never was a sweeter or more adorable +invalid! I can see her now, propped up on pillows +in a room filled with masses of most exquisite +flowers.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> She always had things dainty and fragrant +about her, and one had a vision of pale blue +ribbons, and soft laces, and lovely flowers, and +then one forgot everything else as one looked at +the dear face framed in such soft grey hair. She +looked so fragile that one fancied she might be +wafted away by a summer breeze, and I have never +seen anyone so pale. There was not a tinge of +colour in face or hands, and one kissed her gently +for fear that even a caress might be too much for +her waning strength.</p> + +<p>Her patience never failed. She never grumbled +or made complaint, and even in the smallest things +her interest and sympathy were as fresh as ever. +A new dress worn by one of her sisters was a +pleasure, and she would plan it, and suggest and +admire.</p> + +<p>It was a supreme joy to Miss Macnaughtan to +hear, some time in June, that she had received the +honour of being chosen to be a Lady of Grace of +the Order of St. John of Jerusalem. Any recognition +of her good work was an unfailing source of +gratification to her sensitive nature, sensitive alike +to praise or blame.</p> + +<p>She was so wonderfully strong in her mind and +will that it seemed impossible in those long June +days to believe that she had such a little time to +live. She managed all her own business affairs, +personally dictated or wrote answers to her correspondence, +and was full of schemes for the redecoration +of her house and of plans for the future.</p> + +<p>I have only been able to procure three of my +aunt's letters written after her return to England. +They<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> were addressed to her eldest sister, Mrs. +ffolliott. I insert them here:</p> + +<div class="sidenote">MISS MACNAUGHTAN'S LAST LETTERS</div> + +<hr /> + +<p class="lh_ind6"><span class="smcap">1, Norfolk Street,</span></p> +<p class="lh_ind4"><span class="smcap">Park Lane, W.</span></p> +<p class="lh_ind2"><i>Tuesday.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dearest old Poot,</span></p> + +<p>How good of you to write. I was awfully +pleased to see a letter from you. I have been a +fearful crock since I got home, and I have to +lie in bed for six weeks and live on milk diet for +eight weeks. The illness is of a tropical nature, +and one of the symptoms is that one can't eat, so +one gets fearfully thin. I am something over six +stone now, but I was very much less.</p> + +<p>We were right up on the Persian front, and I +went on to Tehran. One saw some most interesting +phases of the war, and met all the distinguished +Generals and such-like people.</p> + +<p>The notice you sent me of my little book is +charming.</p> + +<p class="lf_sal">Your loving</p> +<p class="lf_sig">S. B .M.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="lh_ind6"><span class="smcap">1, Norfolk Street,</span></p> +<p class="lh_ind4"><span class="smcap">Park Lane, W.,</span></p> +<p class="lh_ind2"><i>9 June.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Darling Poot,</span></p> + +<p>I must thank you myself for the lovely +flowers and your kind letters. I am sure that +people's good wishes and prayers do one good. I +so nearly died!</p> + +<p class="lf_sal">Your loving</p> +<p class="lf_sig">S. M.</p> + +<hr /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span></p> + +<p class="lh_ind2"><i>17th June</i></p> + +<p>Still getting on pretty well, but it is slow work. +Baby and Julia both in town, so they are constantly +here. I am to get up for a little bit to-morrow.</p> + +<p>Kindest love. It <i>was</i> naughty of you to send +more flowers.</p> + +<p class="lf_sal">As ever fondly,</p> +<p class="lf_sig"><span class="smcap">Sarah.</span></p> + +<hr /> + +<p>As the hot weather advanced it was hoped to +move Miss Macnaughtan to the country. Her +friends showered invitations on "dear Sally" to +come and convalesce with them, but the plans fell +through. It became increasingly clear that the +traveller was about to embark on that last journey +from which there is no return, and, indeed, towards +the end her sufferings were so great that those who +loved her best could only pray that she might not +have long to wait. She passed away in the afternoon +of Monday, July 24th, 1916.</p> + +<p>A few days later the body of Sarah Broom +Macnaughtan was laid to rest in the plot of ground +reserved for her kinsfolk in the churchyard at +Chart Sutton, in Kent. It is very quiet there up +on the hill, the great Weald stretches away to the +south, and fruit-trees surround the Hallowed Acre. +But even as they laid earth to earth and dust to +dust in this peaceful spot the booming of the guns in +Flanders broke the quiet of the sunny afternoon, +and reminded the little funeral party that they +were indeed burying one whose life had been +sacrificed in the Great War.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">THE GRAVE IN CHART SUTTON</div> + +<p>Surely those who pass through the old churchyard +will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> pause by the grave, with its beautiful grey cross, +and the children growing up in the parish will come +there sometimes, and will read and remember the +simple inscription on it:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"In the Great War, by Word and Deed, at Home and Abroad,<br /> +She served her Country even unto Death."</p></div> + +<p>And if any ghosts hover round the little place, they +will be the ghosts of a purity, a kindness, and of a +love for humanity which are not often met with in +this workaday world.</p> + + + +<hr class="full" /> +<h2><a name="CONCLUSION" id="CONCLUSION"></a>CONCLUSION +<span class="totoc"><a href="#CONTENTS">ToC</a></span></h2> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> +Perhaps a review of her war work by an onlooker, +and a slight sketch of Miss Macnaughtan's character, +may form an appropriate conclusion to this book.</p> + +<p>I stayed with my aunt for one night, on August +7th, 1914. One may be pardoned for saying that +during the previous three days one had scarcely +begun to realise the war, but I was recalled +by telegram from Northamptonshire to the headquarters +of my Voluntary Aid Detachment in +Kent, and spent a night in town en route, to get +uniform, etc. Certainly at my aunt's house my +eyes were opened to a little of what lay before us. +She was on fire with patriotism and a burning wish +to help her country, and I immediately caught some +of her enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>Every hour we rushed out to buy papers, every +minute seemed consecrated to preparation for what +we could do. There were uniforms to buy, notes +of Red Cross lectures to "rub up," and, in my aunt's +case, she was busy offering her services in every +direction in which they could be of use.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">VOLUNTARY RATIONING</div> + +<p>Miss Macnaughtan must surely have been one of +the first people to begin voluntary rationing. We +had the simplest possible meals during my visit, and +although<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> she was proud of her housekeeping, and +usually gave one rather perfect food, on this occasion +she said how impossible it was for her to indulge in +anything but necessaries, when our soldiers would +so soon have to endure hardships of every kind. +She said that we ought to be particularly careful to +eat very little meat, because there would certainly +be a shortage of it later on.</p> + +<p>I recollect that there was some hitch about my +departure from Norfolk Street on August 8th. It +did not seem clear whether my Voluntary Aid +Detachment was going to provide billets for all +recalled members, and I remember my aunt's +absolute scorn of difficulties at such a time.</p> + +<p>"Of course, go straight to Kent and obey orders," +she cried. "If you can't get a bed, come back here; +but at least go and see what you can do."</p> + +<p>That was typical of Miss Macnaughtan. Difficulties +did not exist for her. When quite a young +girl she made up her mind that no lack of money, +time, or strength should ever prevent her doing +anything she wanted to do. It certainly never prevented +her doing anything she felt she <i>ought</i> to do.</p> + +<p>The war provided her with a supreme opportunity +for service, and she did not fail to take advantage of +it. Of her work in Belgium, especially at the soup-kitchen, +I believe it is impossible to say too much. +According to <i>The Times</i>, "The lady with the soup +was everything to thousands of stricken men, who +would otherwise have gone on their way fasting."</p> + +<p>Among individual cases, too, there were many +men who benefited by some special care bestowed +on them by her. There was one wounded Belgian to +whom<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> my aunt gave my address before she left for +Russia that he might have someone with whom +he might correspond. I used to hear from him +regularly, and every letter breathed gratitude to +"la dame écossaise." He said she had saved his life.</p> + +<p>Miss Macnaughtan's lectures to munition-workers +were, perhaps, the best work that she did during the +war. She was a charming speaker, and I never +heard one who got more quickly into touch with an +audience. As I saw it expressed in one of the +papers "Stiffness and depression vanished from any +company when she took the platform." Her +enunciation was extraordinarily distinct, and she +had an arresting delivery which compelled attention +from the first word to the last.</p> + +<p>She never minced the truth about the war, but +showed people at home how far removed it was +from being a "merry picnic."</p> + +<p>"They say recruiting will stop if people know +what is going on at the Front," she used to tell them. +"I am a woman, but I know what I would do if I +were a man when I heard of these things. <i>I would +do my durndest.</i>"</p> + +<p>All through her life the idea of personal service +appealed to Miss Macnaughtan. She never sent a +message of sympathy or a gift of help unless it was +quite impossible to go herself to the sufferer.</p> + +<p>She was only a girl when she heard of what +proved to be the fatal accident to her eldest +brother in the Argentine. She went to him by the +next ship, alone, save for the escort of his old yacht's +skipper, and a journey to the Argentine in those +days was a big undertaking for a delicate young +girl.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> On another occasion she was in Switzerland +when she heard of the death, in Northamptonshire, +of a little niece. She left for England the same +day, to go and offer her sympathy, and try to +comfort the child's mother.</p> + +<p>"When I hear of trouble I always go at once," +she used to say.</p> + +<p>I have known her drive in her brougham to the +most horrible slum in the East End to see what she +could do for a woman who had begged from her in +the street—yes, and go there again and again until +she had done all that was possible to help the sad +case.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">ZEAL TO HELP OTHERS</div> + +<p>It was this burning zeal to help which sent her to +Belgium and carried her through the long dark +winter there, and it was, perhaps, the same feeling +which obscured her judgment when her expedition +to Russia was contemplated. She was a delicate +woman, and there did not seem to be much scope +for her services in Russia. She was not a qualified +nurse, and the distance from home, and the handicap +of her ignorance of the Russian language, +would probably have prevented her organising +anything like comforts for the soldiers there as she +had done in Belgium. To those of us who loved +her the very uselessness of her efforts in Russia +adds to the poignancy of the tragedy of the death +which resulted from them.</p> + +<p>The old question arises: "To what purpose is +this waste?" And the old answer comes still to +teach us the underlying meaning and beauty of +what seems to be unnecessary sacrifice: "She hath +done what she could."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> +Indeed, that epitaph might fitly describe Miss +Macnaughtan's war work. She grudged nothing, +she gave her strength, her money, her very life. +The precious ointment was poured out in the service +of her King and Country and for the Master she +served so faithfully.</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<p>I have been looking through some notices which +appeared in the press after Miss Macnaughtan's +death. Some of them allude to her wit, her +energy and vivacity, the humour which was "without +a touch of cynicism"; others, to her inexhaustible +spirit, her geniality, and the "powers of +sarcasm, which she used with strong reserve." +Others, again, see through to the faith and philosophy +which lay behind her humour, "Scottish in its +penetrating tenderness."</p> + +<p>In my opinion my aunt's strongest characteristic +was a dazzling purity of soul, mind, and body. +She was a person whose very presence lifted the +tone of the conversation. It was impossible to +think of telling her a nasty story, a "double +entendre" fell flat when she was there. She was +the least priggish person in the world, but no one +who knew her could doubt for an instant her +transparent goodness. I have read every word of +her diary; there is not in it the record of an ugly +thought, or of one action that would not bear the +full light of day. About her books she used +to say that she had tried never to publish one word +which her father would not like her to have +written.</p> + +<p>She had a tremendous capacity for affection, and +when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> she once loved she loved most faithfully. +Her devotion to her father and to her eldest brother +influenced her whole life, and it would have been +impossible for those she loved to make too heavy +claims on her kindness.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">SOCIAL CHARM</div> + +<p>Miss Macnaughtan had great social charm. She +was friendly and easy to know, and she had a +wonderful power of finding out the interesting side +of people and of seeing their good points. Her +popularity was extraordinary, although hers was +too strong a personality to command universal +affection. Among her friends were people of the +most varied dispositions and circumstances. Distinction +of birth, position, or intellect appealed to +her, and she was always glad to meet a celebrity, +but distinction was no passport to her favour unless +it was accompanied by character. To her poorer and +humbler friends she was kindness itself, and she was +extraordinarily staunch in her friendships. Nothing +would make her "drop" a person with whom she +had once been intimate.</p> + +<p>In attempting to give a character-sketch of a +person whose nature was as complex as Miss +Macnaughtan's, one admits defeat from the start. +She had so many interests, so many sides to her +character, that it seems impossible to present them +all fairly. Her love of music, literature, and art +was coupled with an enthusiasm for sport, big-game +shooting, riding, travel, and adventure of +every kind. She was an ambitious woman, and +a brilliantly clever one, and her clearness of perception +and wonderful intuition gave her a quick grasp +of a subject or idea. She had a thirst for knowledge +which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> made learning easy, but hers was the brain of +the poet and philosopher, not of the mathematician. +Accuracy of thought or information was often +lacking. Her imagination led the way, and left her +with a picture of a situation or a subject, but she +was very vague about facts and statistics. As a +woman of business she was shrewd, with all a +Scotchwoman's power of looking at both sides +of a bawbee before she spent it, but she was +also extraordinarily generous in a very simple +and unostentatious way, and her hospitality was +boundless.</p> + +<p>Miss Macnaughtan was almost hypersensitive to +criticism. Her intense desire to do right and to +serve her fellow-beings animated her whole life, and +it seemed to her rather hard to be found fault with. +Indeed, she had not many faults, and the defects of +her character were mostly temperamental.</p> + +<p>As a girl she was unpunctual, and subject to fits +of indecision when it seemed impossible for her to +make up her mind one way or the other. The +inconvenience caused by her frequent changes of +times and plans was probably not realised by her. +Later in life, when she lived so much alone, she did +not always see that difficulties which appeared +nothing to her might be almost insuperable to other +people, and that in houses where there are several +members of a family to be considered, no individual +can be quite as free to carry out his own plans as a +person who is independent of family ties. But +when one remembered how splendidly she always +responded to any claim on her own kindness one +forgave her for being a little exacting.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span> +Perhaps Miss Macnaughtan's greatest handicap +in life was her immense capacity for suffering—suffering +poignantly, unbearably, not only for her +own sorrows but for the sorrows of others. Only +those who appealed to her in trouble knew the +depth of her sympathy, and how absolutely she +shared the burden of the grief. But perhaps they +did not always know how she agonised over their +misfortunes, and at what price her sympathy was +given.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">RELIGIOUS VIEWS</div> + +<p>My aunt was a passionately religious woman. +Her faith was the inspiration of her whole life, and +it is safe to say that from the smallest to the greatest +things there was never a struggle between conscience +and inclination in which conscience was not +victorious. As she grew older, I fancy that she +became a less orthodox member of the Church +of England, to which she belonged, but her love +for Christ and for His people never wavered.</p> + +<p>As each Sunday came round during her last illness, +when she could not go to church, she used to say to +a very dear sister, "Now, J., we must have our +little service." Then the bedroom door was left +ajar, and her sister would go down to the drawing-room +and play the simple hymns they had sung +together in childhood. And on the last Sunday, +the day before her death, when the invalid lay in a +stupor and seemed scarcely conscious, that same +dear sister played the old hymns once more, and as +the sound floated up to the room above those who +watched there saw a gleam of pleasure on the +dying woman's face.</p> + +<p>My aunt had no fear of death. There had been +a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> time, some weeks before the end, when her feet +had wandered very close to the waters which divide +us from the unknown shore, and she told her sisters +afterwards that she had almost seemed to see over +to the "other side," and that so many of those she +loved were waiting for her, and saying, "Come over +to us, Sally. We are all here to welcome you."</p> + +<p>Perhaps just at the last, when her body had +grown weak, the journey seemed rather far, and she +clung to earth more closely, but such weakness was +purely physical. The brave spirit was ready to go, +and as the music of her favourite hymn pierced her +consciousness when she lay dying, so surely the +words summed up all that she felt or wished to say, +and formed her last prayer in death, as they had +been her constant prayer in life:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"In death's dark vale I fear no ill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Thee, dear Lord, beside me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy rod and staff my comfort still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy Cross before to guide me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And so through all the length of days<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy goodness faileth never;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Good Shepherd, may I sing Thy praise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within Thy house for ever."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="full" /> +<h2><a name="INDEX" id="INDEX"></a>INDEX +<span class="totoc"><a href="#CONTENTS">ToC</a></span></h2> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span></p> + +<ul> +<li>Aberdare, <a href="#Page_164">164</a></li> +<li>Aberystwyth, <a href="#Page_164">164</a></li> +<li>Adinkerke, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>; +<ul> +<li>soup-kitchen, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>;</li> +<li>bombardment, <a href="#Page_139">139</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Airships, German, over Antwerp, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>; +<ul> +<li>Dunkirk, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>;</li> +<li>Furnes, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>;</li> +<li>St. Malo-les-Bains, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>;</li> +<li>destroyed, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_194">194</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Andrews, John, <a href="#Page_171">171</a></li> +<li>Antwerp, <a href="#Page_1">1</a> +<ul> +<li>Hospital, <a href="#Page_2">2</a></li> +<li>arrival of wounded, <a href="#Page_2">2</a>, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>;</li> +<li>siege, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>-<a href="#Page_21">21</a>;</li> +<li>reinforcements, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>;</li> +<li>shelled, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>-<a href="#Page_21">21</a>;</li> +<li>retreat of the Marines, <a href="#Page_28">28</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Arabs, rapid system of communication, <a href="#Page_247">247</a></li> +<li>Ararat, Mount, <a href="#Page_230">230</a></li> +<li>Armenians, massacres of, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>, <a href="#Page_214">214</a>, <a href="#Page_217">217</a>, <a href="#Page_228">228</a>; +<ul> +<li>refugees, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>;</li> +<li>character, <a href="#Page_234">234</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Artvin, <a href="#Page_211">211</a></li> +<li>Asquith, Raymond, <a href="#Page_183">183</a></li> +<li>Australians, treatment of the Turks, <a href="#Page_177">177</a><br /><br /></li> + +<li>Bagdad, <a href="#Page_247">247</a></li> +<li>Bagot, Lady, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>; +<ul> +<li>at St. Malo-les-Bains, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>;</li> +<li>hospital, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>;</li> +<li>arrival of wounded, <a href="#Page_144">144</a>;</li> +<li>entertains them, <a href="#Page_147">147</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Bailey, Sister, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>, <a href="#Page_24">24</a></li> +<li>Baku, <a href="#Page_233">233</a>, <a href="#Page_237">237</a></li> +<li>Baratoff, General, <a href="#Page_240">240</a>, <a href="#Page_241">241</a></li> +<li>Bark, M., Russian Finance Minister, <a href="#Page_195">195</a></li> +<li>Barrow-in-Furness, lectures by Miss Macnaughtan, <a href="#Page_162">162</a></li> +<li>Bartlett, Ashmead, war correspondent, at Furnes, <a href="#Page_35">35</a></li> +<li>Batoum, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>, <a href="#Page_213">213</a></li> +<li>"Beau Garde," farm, <a href="#Page_140">140</a></li> +<li>Bedford, Adeline, Duchess of, <a href="#Page_59">59</a></li> +<li>Belgians, King of the, <a href="#Page_141">141</a></li> +<li>Belgians, Queen of the, visits the Hospital at Furnes, <a href="#Page_38">38</a></li> +<li>Benjamin, Miss, <a href="#Page_2">2</a>, <a href="#Page_20">20</a></li> +<li>Bernoff, General, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>, <a href="#Page_209">209</a></li> +<li><i>Bessheim</i>, the, <a href="#Page_179">179</a></li> +<li>Bevan, Mr., at Furnes, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>; +<ul> +<li>Calais, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>;</li> +<li>Nieuport, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>;</li> +<li>Christiania, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>;</li> +<li>Stockholm, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>;</li> +<li>Baku, <a href="#Page_231">231</a>, <a href="#Page_233">233</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Bible, the, a Universal Human Document, <a href="#Page_101">101</a></li> +<li>Boulderoff, M., <a href="#Page_216">216</a></li> +<li>Boulogne, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>; +<ul> +<li>wounded at, <a href="#Page_114">114</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Bray, Mrs., <a href="#Page_192">192</a></li> +<li>British man-of-war, <a href="#Page_125">125</a></li> +<li>Brockville, Mr., at Dixmude, <a href="#Page_35">35</a></li> +<li>Brooke, Victor, <a href="#Page_178">178</a></li> +<li>Buchanan, Sir George, Ambassador at Petrograd, <a href="#Page_184">184</a></li> +<li>Buchanan, Lady Georgina, at Petrograd, <a href="#Page_184">184</a>; +<ul> +<li>soup-kitchen, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>;</li> +<li>work-party, <a href="#Page_196">196</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Bute Docks, <a href="#Page_171">171</a><br /><br /></li> + +<li>Cabour hospital, <a href="#Page_151">151</a></li> +<li>Calais, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a></li> +<li>Cardiff, lecture by Miss Macnaughtan, <a href="#Page_164">164</a>, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>-<a href="#Page_171">171</a></li> +<li>Cardiff Castle, <a href="#Page_163">163</a></li> +<li>Carlile, Mr., <a href="#Page_120">120</a></li> +<li>Caspian Sea, <a href="#Page_265">265</a></li> +<li>Caucasia, <a href="#Page_210">210</a></li> +<li>Cavell, Miss, execution, <a href="#Page_186">186</a></li> +<li>Cazalet, Mr., <a href="#Page_207">207</a></li> +<li>Chart Sutton, churchyard at, <a href="#Page_270">270</a></li> +<li>Chenies, <a href="#Page_160">160</a></li> +<li>Children wounded, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a></li> +<li>Chimay, Countess de Caraman, dame d'honneur of the Queen of the Belgians, <a href="#Page_139">139</a></li> +<li>Chisholm, Miss, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_63">63</a></li> +<li><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span>Christiania, <a href="#Page_179">179</a></li> +<li>Churchill, Winston, at Antwerp, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>; +<ul> +<li>Dunkirk, <a href="#Page_44">44</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Clarry, Mr. G., President of the Cardiff Chamber of Trade, <a href="#Page_170">170</a></li> +<li>Clegg, Mr., <a href="#Page_105">105</a>, <a href="#Page_143">143</a></li> +<li>Clitheroe, Mrs., <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_93">93</a></li> +<li>Close, Miss Etta, barge, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>; +<ul> +<li>work for the refugees, <a href="#Page_140">140</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Cocks, W., <a href="#Page_171">171</a></li> +<li>Constant, Count Stanislas, <a href="#Page_213">213</a></li> +<li>Cooper, Mr., <a href="#Page_115">115</a></li> +<li>Courage, definition of, <a href="#Page_24">24</a></li> +<li>Coventry, Mr., <a href="#Page_112">112</a></li> +<li><a class="correction" title="original had "Cowen"">Cowan</a>, Mr., Consul at Hamadan, <a href="#Page_241">241</a>, <a href="#Page_246">246</a></li> +<li>Coxide, bombardment of, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>; +<ul> +<li>refugees at, <a href="#Page_138">138</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Crawley, Eustace, <a href="#Page_178">178</a></li> +<li>Cunard, Mr., <a href="#Page_198">198</a></li> +<li>Cunliffe, Miss, <a href="#Page_2">2</a></li> +<li>Curie, Mme., at Furnes, <a href="#Page_68">68</a></li> +<li>Cyril, Grand Duchess, <a href="#Page_205">205</a><br /><br /></li> + +<li>Decies, Lady, <a href="#Page_55">55</a></li> +<li>Decker, Mrs., <a href="#Page_26">26</a></li> +<li>Denniss, Colonel, <a href="#Page_164">164</a>; +<ul> +<li>speech at the Bute Docks, <a href="#Page_171">171</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Derfelden, Mme., <a href="#Page_236">236</a></li> +<li>Dick, Miss, <a href="#Page_2">2</a></li> +<li>Dinant, atrocities of the Germans at, <a href="#Page_137">137</a></li> +<li>Dixmude, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>; +<ul> +<li>bombardment, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>, <a href="#Page_39">39</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Donnisthorpe, Miss, <a href="#Page_2">2</a>, <a href="#Page_22">22</a></li> +<li>Drogheda, Lady, <a href="#Page_97">97</a></li> +<li>Dunkirk, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>; +<ul> +<li>arrival of wounded, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>;</li> +<li>bombs on, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>;</li> +<li>condition of the station, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>;</li> +<li>shelled by the Germans, <a href="#Page_115">115</a><br /><br /></li> +</ul></li> + +<li>Elliot, Lady Eileen, at Boulogne, <a href="#Page_58">58</a></li> +<li>Elliott, Maxine, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_126">126</a></li> +<li>Enzeli, <a href="#Page_238">238</a></li> +<li>Erivan, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>, <a href="#Page_227">227</a></li> +<li>Etchmiadzin, <a href="#Page_229">229</a><br /><br /></li> + +<li>Ferdinand, King of Bulgaria, <a href="#Page_195">195</a></li> +<li>ffolliott, Mrs., letters from Miss Macnaughtan, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>, <a href="#Page_269">269</a>, <a href="#Page_270">270</a></li> +<li>Fielding, Lady Dorothy, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_63">63</a></li> +<li>Findlay, Mr., <a href="#Page_82">82</a></li> +<li>Fisher, S., <a href="#Page_171">171</a></li> +<li>France, armament works, <a href="#Page_149">149</a></li> +<li>French, Sir John, at Dunkirk, <a href="#Page_44">44</a></li> +<li>Frere, Sir Bartle, at Furnes, <a href="#Page_68">68</a></li> +<li>Furley, Sir John, <a href="#Page_112">112</a></li> +<li>Furnes hospital, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>; +<ul> +<li>arrival of wounded, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>;</li> +<li>evacuated, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>;</li> +<li>hopeless cases, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>;</li> +<li>soup-kitchen, <a href="#Page_60">60</a>;</li> +<li>shelled by the Germans, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>;</li> +<li>bombs on, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_81">81</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Fyfe, Miss, <a href="#Page_43">43</a><br /><br /></li> + +<li>Galicia, fighting in, <a href="#Page_223">223</a></li> +<li>Galitzin, Prince, <a href="#Page_208">208</a></li> +<li>Gas, asphyxiating, cases of, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>, <a href="#Page_171">171</a></li> +<li>Georgia, <a href="#Page_211">211</a>; +<ul> +<li>custom at, <a href="#Page_213">213</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>German army, siege of Antwerp, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>-<a href="#Page_21">21</a>; +<ul> +<li>driven back, <a href="#Page_18" class="correction" title="original reference to page 10">18</a>;</li> +<li>two regiments surrounded, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>;</li> +<li>atrocities, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>;</li> +<li>throw vitriol, <a href="#Page_144">144</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Germany, preparations for war, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>; +<ul> +<li>treatment of prisoners, <a href="#Page_132">132</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Ghent, <a href="#Page_12">12</a></li> +<li>Gibbs, Mr., war correspondent, at Furnes, <a href="#Page_35">35</a></li> +<li>Gienst, Mme. van der, <a href="#Page_143">143</a></li> +<li>Gilbert, <a href="#Page_34">34</a></li> +<li>Glade, Mr., <a href="#Page_2">2</a></li> +<li>Glasgow, munition works, output, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_161">161</a>; +<ul> +<li>lectures by Miss Macnaughtan, <a href="#Page_163">163</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Gleeson, Mr., <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_35">35</a></li> +<li>Glover, Bandmaster, K. S., <a href="#Page_170">170</a></li> +<li>Godfrey, Miss, <a href="#Page_2">2</a></li> +<li>Goodwin, Mr. and Mrs., <a href="#Page_239">239</a></li> +<li>Gordon, Dr., American Missionary, <a href="#Page_208">208</a></li> +<li>Gorlebeff, head of the Russian Red Cross, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a></li> +<li>Graham, Stephen, book on Russia, <a href="#Page_208">208</a></li> +<li>Groholski, Count, <a href="#Page_210">210</a>, <a href="#Page_218">218</a></li> +<li>Guest, Mrs., at Adinkerke, <a href="#Page_119">119</a><br /><br /></li> + +<li>Hamadan, <a href="#Page_240">240</a>; +<ul> +<li>climate, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>;</li> +<li>tombs, <a href="#Page_252">252</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Hambro, Mr. Eric, <a href="#Page_182">182</a></li> +<li>Hanson, Dr., <a href="#Page_2">2</a>, <a href="#Page_23">23</a></li> +<li>Hanson, Mr., Vice-Consul at Constantinople, at Dunkirk, <a href="#Page_151">151</a></li> +<li>Haparanda, <a href="#Page_182">182</a></li> +<li>Harrison, Mr., <a href="#Page_164">164</a></li> +<li><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span>Haye, M. de la, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>, <a href="#Page_140">140</a></li> +<li>Helsingfors, <a href="#Page_266">266</a></li> +<li><i>Hermes</i>, the, torpedoed, <a href="#Page_43">43</a></li> +<li>Herslet, Sir Cecil, Surgeon-General, at Antwerp, <a href="#Page_9">9</a></li> +<li>Hills, Mr., American missionary, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a></li> +<li>Holland, Mr., <a href="#Page_88">88</a></li> +<li>Hoogstadt, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>; +<ul> +<li>wounded at, <a href="#Page_121">121</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Hope, A., <a href="#Page_171">171</a></li> +<li>Howard, Lady Isobel, <a href="#Page_181">181</a></li> +<li>Howse, Mr., <a href="#Page_164">164</a><br /><br /></li> + +<li>Ignatieff, M., <a href="#Page_237">237</a></li> +<li><i>Invicta</i>, the, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_52">52</a><br /><br /></li> + +<li>Jecquier, M., <a href="#Page_195">195</a></li> +<li>Joffre, Marshal, at Dunkirk, <a href="#Page_44">44</a></li> +<li>Joos, Dr., <a href="#Page_77">77</a>; +<ul> +<li>villa at Furnes, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_79">79</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Joos, Mme., <a href="#Page_77">77</a><br /><br /></li> + +<li>Kajura, <a href="#Page_236">236</a></li> +<li>Kasvin, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>, <a href="#Page_259">259</a></li> +<li>Keays-Young, Mrs., letters from Miss Macnaughtan, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>, <a href="#Page_262">262</a></li> +<li>Keays-Young, Miss Julia, letters from Miss Macnaughtan, <a href="#Page_217">217</a>, <a href="#Page_262">262</a></li> +<li>King, Mary, <a href="#Page_267">267</a>; +<ul> +<li>letters from Miss Macnaughtan, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Kirsanoff, Mme., <a href="#Page_241">241</a></li> +<li>Kitchener, Lord, at Dunkirk, <a href="#Page_44">44</a></li> +<li>Kluck, General von, at Mons, <a href="#Page_133">133</a></li> +<li>Knocker, Mrs., <a href="#Page_45">45</a>, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>, <a href="#Page_155">155</a><br /><br /></li> + +<li>La Bassée, British casualties at, <a href="#Page_107">107</a></li> +<li>Lampernesse, church shelled, <a href="#Page_67">67</a></li> +<li>La Panne, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>, <a href="#Page_97">97</a></li> +<li>Lazarienne, Mr., <a href="#Page_229">229</a></li> +<li>Leigh, Lord, <a href="#Page_94">94</a></li> +<li>Lennel, <a href="#Page_163">163</a></li> +<li><a class="correction" title="original had "Lipnakoff"">Lepnakoff</a>, Mlle., <a href="#Page_233">233</a></li> +<li>Lightfoot, Mr., at Hamadan, <a href="#Page_241">241</a>, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>, <a href="#Page_252">252</a></li> +<li>Lindsay, Harry, <a href="#Page_183">183</a></li> +<li>Lloyd, Sir F., <a href="#Page_162">162</a></li> +<li>Lloyd, George, <a href="#Page_195">195</a></li> +<li>Logan, Miss, <a href="#Page_87">87</a></li> +<li>Logette, Mrs., <a href="#Page_72">72</a></li> +<li>Lombaertzyde, farm at, <a href="#Page_138">138</a></li> +<li>Lombard, Mr., <a href="#Page_190">190</a></li> +<li><i>Lusitania</i> torpedoed, <a href="#Page_123">123</a><br /><br /></li> + +<li>McDonald, gunner, wounded, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>, <a href="#Page_124">124</a></li> +<li><a class="correction" title="original had "Macdonald"">MacDonald</a>, Mr. Ramsay, <a href="#Page_73">73</a></li> +<li>MacDonell, Consul, at Baku, <a href="#Page_237">237</a></li> +<li>McDowal, Mr., <a href="#Page_241">241</a></li> +<li>McLaren, Mr. and Mrs., <a href="#Page_238">238</a></li> +<li>McLean, Mr., <a href="#Page_241">241</a>, <a href="#Page_248">248</a></li> +<li>MacMurray, Mr., <a href="#Page_241">241</a>, <a href="#Page_248">248</a></li> +<li>Macnaughtan, Lieut. Colin, <a href="#Page_144">144</a></li> +<li>Macnaughtan, Sarah, at Antwerp <a href="#Page_1">1</a>; +<ul> +<li>work in the Hospital, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>;</li> +<li>incentive to keep up, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>;</li> +<li>leaves Antwerp, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>;</li> +<li>at Ostend, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>;</li> +<li>joins Dr. Munro's convoy, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>;</li> +<li>at Dunkirk, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>;</li> +<li>St. Malo-les-Bains, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>;</li> +<li>Furnes, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>-<a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>;</li> +<li>flight to Poperinghe, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>;</li> +<li>description of the ruins of Nieuport, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>-<a href="#Page_155">155</a>;</li> +<li>request for travelling-kitchens, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>;</li> +<li>visits her nephew at Boulogne, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>-<a href="#Page_57">57</a>;</li> +<li>starts a soup-kitchen, <a href="#Page_59">59</a>-<a href="#Page_61">61</a>;</li> +<li>feeding the wounded, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>;</li> +<li>"charette," <a href="#Page_69">69</a>;</li> +<li>at the Villa Joos, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>;</li> +<li>attends a Church service, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>;</li> +<li>return to England, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>, <a href="#Page_267">267</a>;</li> +<li>at Rayleigh House, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>;</li> +<li>soup-kitchen at Adinkerke, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>;</li> +<li>illness, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>, <a href="#Page_256">256</a>, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>-<a href="#Page_264">264</a>, <a href="#Page_267">267</a>-<a href="#Page_270">270</a>;</li> +<li>at La Panne, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>;</li> +<li>publication of war book, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>;</li> +<li>difficulties in getting her passport, <a href="#Page_112">112</a>;</li> +<li>at Boulogne, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>;</li> +<li>presented with a car, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>;</li> +<li>at Poperinghe, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>;</li> +<li>method of relieving cases of poison gas, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>;</li> +<li>lectures on the war, <a href="#Page_160">160</a>-<a href="#Page_174">174</a>, <a href="#Page_274">274</a>;</li> +<li>at Lennel, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>;</li> +<li>Cardiff Castle, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>;</li> +<li>Chevalier de l'Ordre de Léopold conferred, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>;</li> +<li>journey to Russia, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>-<a href="#Page_183">183</a>;</li> +<li>at Christiania, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>;</li> +<li>Stockholm, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>;</li> +<li>Petrograd, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>-<a href="#Page_204">204</a>, <a href="#Page_265">265</a>;</li> +<li>waiting for work, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>-<a href="#Page_198">198</a>, <a href="#Page_218">218</a>;</li> +<li>studies Russian, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>;</li> +<li>works in a hospital, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>;</li> +<li>at Moscow, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>;</li> +<li>Tiflis, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>-<a href="#Page_210">210</a>, <a href="#Page_214">214</a>, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>;</li> +<li>delicate appearance, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>;</li> +<li>at Caucasia, <a href="#Page_210">210</a>;</li> +<li>entertained by the Grand Duke Nicholas, <a href="#Page_215">215</a>;</li> +<li>on the administration of war charities, <a href="#Page_219">219</a>-<a href="#Page_222">222</a>;</li> +<li>lessons in French, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>;</li> +<li><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span>buys a motor-car, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>;</li> +<li>journey to Erivan, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>-<a href="#Page_227">227</a>;</li> +<li>car breaks down, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>;</li> +<li>festered fingers, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>;</li> +<li>at Baku, <a href="#Page_237">237</a>;</li> +<li>Resht, <a href="#Page_238">238</a>;</li> +<li>Kasvin, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>;</li> +<li>Hamadan, <a href="#Page_240">240</a>-<a href="#Page_257">257</a>;</li> +<li>a day on the Persian front, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>-<a href="#Page_249">249</a>;</li> +<li>unfinished article on Persia, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>-<a href="#Page_252">252</a>;</li> +<li><i>Return of the Pilgrim</i>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a>-<a href="#Page_256">256</a>;</li> +<li>Tehran, <a href="#Page_260">260</a>-<a href="#Page_264">264</a>;</li> +<li>journey home, <a href="#Page_264">264</a>-<a href="#Page_266">266</a>;</li> +<li>at Helsingfors, <a href="#Page_266">266</a>;</li> +<li>appearance, <a href="#Page_268">268</a>;</li> +<li>appointed Lady of Grace of the Order of St. John of Jerusalem, <a href="#Page_268">268</a>;</li> +<li>death, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>, <a href="#Page_280">280</a>;</li> +<li>funeral, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>;</li> +<li>review of her war work, <a href="#Page_272">272</a>-<a href="#Page_276">276</a>;</li> +<li>ideal of personal service, <a href="#Page_274">274</a>;</li> +<li>sketch of her character, <a href="#Page_276">276</a>-<a href="#Page_279">279</a>;</li> +<li>religious views, <a href="#Page_279">279</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Malcolm, Colonel Ian, at Boulogne, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>; +<ul> +<li>Petrograd, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>;</li> +<li>at Moscow, <a href="#Page_204">204</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Malokand settlement, <a href="#Page_226">226</a></li> +<li>Manners, Lady Diana, <a href="#Page_183">183</a></li> +<li>Marines, British, at Antwerp, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>; +<ul> +<li>retreat from, <a href="#Page_28">28</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Marines, French, <a href="#Page_105" class="correction" title="original reference to page 165">105</a></li> +<li>Maxwell, Lady Heron, <a href="#Page_185">185</a></li> +<li>Millis, General, <a href="#Page_87">87</a></li> +<li>Mons, retreat from, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>; +<ul> +<li>vision at, <a href="#Page_133">133</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Montgomerie, Miss, American missionary at Hamadan, <a href="#Page_252">252</a></li> +<li>Moorhouse, Rhodes, heroism, <a href="#Page_129">129</a></li> +<li>Morgan, Mr., <a href="#Page_83">83</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a></li> +<li>Morris, Dr., <a href="#Page_2">2</a></li> +<li>Moscow, <a href="#Page_204">204</a></li> +<li>Motono, M., at Petrograd, <a href="#Page_195">195</a></li> +<li>Munitions, shortage of, <a href="#Page_148">148</a></li> +<li>Munro, Dr. Hector, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>; +<ul> +<li>convoy, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>;</li> +<li>at Dixmude, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>;</li> +<li>knocked over by a shell, <a href="#Page_49">49</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Murat, Prince Napoleon, <a href="#Page_218">218</a>, <a href="#Page_231">231</a>, <a href="#Page_233">233</a></li> +<li>Murray, Mr. John, <a href="#Page_xii">xii</a></li> +<li>Musaloff, Princess, <a href="#Page_231">231</a><br /><br /></li> + +<li>Needle, Mr., <a href="#Page_164">164</a></li> +<li>Neligan, Dr., care of Miss Macnaughtan, <a href="#Page_260">260</a>, <a href="#Page_263">263</a>, <a href="#Page_264">264</a></li> +<li>Neuve Chapelle, ruins of, <a href="#Page_123">123</a></li> +<li>Neva, the, <a href="#Page_200">200</a></li> +<li>Nevinson, Mr., at Furnes, <a href="#Page_38">38</a></li> +<li>Nicholas, Grand Duke, <a href="#Page_215">215</a></li> +<li>Nieuport, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>; +<ul> +<li>ruins of, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>-<a href="#Page_155">155</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Nightingale, song of the, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>-<a href="#Page_157">157</a></li> +<li>Nightingale, Florence, <a href="#Page_184">184</a></li> +<li>Northcote, Elsie, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>; +<ul> +<li>death, <a href="#Page_183">183</a><br /><br /></li> +</ul></li> + +<li>Ochterlony, gunner, wounded, <a href="#Page_118">118</a></li> +<li>O'Gormon, Mrs., <a href="#Page_16">16</a></li> +<li>Oostkerke, Belgian "observateur" killed at, <a href="#Page_153">153</a></li> +<li>Orloff, Prince, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>; +<ul> +<li>appearance, <a href="#Page_219">219</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Ostend, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>, <a href="#Page_24">24</a></li> +<li>Oulieheff, Count, <a href="#Page_210">210</a><br /><br /></li> + +<li>Page, Dr. de, <a href="#Page_118">118</a></li> +<li>Parsons, <a class="correction" title="text has "Johnnie"">Johnny</a>, <a href="#Page_192">192</a></li> +<li>Passport, difficulties, <a href="#Page_112">112</a></li> +<li>Percival, Mrs. Charles, letters from Miss Macnaughtan, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>, <a href="#Page_242">242</a>-<a href="#Page_245">245</a></li> +<li>Perrin, Dr., <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a></li> +<li>Perry, Miss, <a href="#Page_2">2</a></li> +<li>Persia, climate, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>; +<ul> +<li>railway, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>;</li> +<li>system of administration, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>;</li> +<li>unfinished article on, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>-<a href="#Page_252">252</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Pervyse, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>, <a href="#Page_64">64</a>; +<ul> +<li>bombardment, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>;</li> +<li>ruins of, <a href="#Page_123">123</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Peter, Grand Duke, <a href="#Page_215">215</a></li> +<li>Petrograd, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>, <a href="#Page_206">206</a>, <a href="#Page_265">265</a>; +<ul> +<li>climate, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>;</li> +<li>number of amputation cases, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>;</li> +<li>return of wounded prisoners, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>-<a href="#Page_203">203</a>;</li> +<li>number of hospitals, <a href="#Page_220">220</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Philpotts, Mr., <a href="#Page_186">186</a></li> +<li><i>Pilgrim, Return of the</i>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a>-<a href="#Page_256">256</a></li> +<li>"Pinching," habit of, <a href="#Page_98">98</a></li> +<li>Poincaré, M., at Dunkirk, <a href="#Page_44">44</a></li> +<li>Polish refugees, at Petrograd, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>, <a href="#Page_193">193</a></li> +<li>Pont, Major du, <a href="#Page_138">138</a></li> +<li>Poperinghe, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>-<a href="#Page_137">137</a>; +<ul> +<li>shelled, <a href="#Page_116">116</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Powell, Miss Hilda, <a href="#Page_xii">xii</a></li> +<li>Prisoners, German, treatment in England, <a href="#Page_132">132</a><br /><br /></li> + +<li>Queen's Hall, London, lecture by Miss Macnaughtan, <a href="#Page_162">162</a><br /><br /></li> + +<li>Radstock, Lord, anecdote of, <a href="#Page_197">197</a></li> +<li>Ramsay, Sir William, on the result of the war, <a href="#Page_149">149</a></li> +<li><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span>Ramsey, Dr., <a href="#Page_2">2</a>, <a href="#Page_22">22</a></li> +<li>Randell, Miss, <a href="#Page_2">2</a></li> +<li>Rasputin, malign influence, <a href="#Page_209">209</a></li> +<li>Rayleigh House, <a href="#Page_85">85</a></li> +<li>Reading, Mr. "Dick," <a href="#Page_42">42</a></li> +<li><a class="correction" title="text on page 164 has "Reece"">Rees</a>, T. Vivian, <a href="#Page_164">164</a>, <a href="#Page_171">171</a></li> +<li>Resht, <a href="#Page_238">238</a></li> +<li>Rhondda Valley, <a href="#Page_164">164</a></li> +<li>Richards, Alderman J. T., speech at Cardiff, <a href="#Page_167">167</a></li> +<li>Roberts, Lord, death, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>, <a href="#Page_111">111</a></li> +<li>Rocky Mountains, <a href="#Page_182">182</a></li> +<li>Rotsartz, M., <a href="#Page_125">125</a>; +<ul> +<li>portrait of Miss Macnaughtan, <a href="#Page_104">104</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Rushton Hall, Kettering, <a href="#Page_160">160</a></li> +<li>Russian army, return of wounded prisoners to Petrograd, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>-<a href="#Page_203">203</a><br /><br /></li> + +<li>St. Clair, Miss, <a href="#Page_12">12</a></li> +<li>St. Gilles, convent at, <a href="#Page_22">22</a></li> +<li>St. Idesbald, <a href="#Page_150">150</a></li> +<li>St. Malo-les-Bains, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>; +<ul> +<li>wounded at, <a href="#Page_50">50</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Samson, Commander, <a href="#Page_88">88</a></li> +<li>Sarrel, Mr., <a href="#Page_151">151</a></li> +<li>Sawyer, Mr., <a href="#Page_112">112</a></li> +<li>Sazonoff, Mme., <a href="#Page_200">200</a></li> +<li>Scherbatoff, Princess Hélène, <a href="#Page_197">197</a></li> +<li>Scott, Lord Francis, at Boulogne, <a href="#Page_58">58</a></li> +<li>Scott, Mr., <a href="#Page_238">238</a></li> +<li>Scott, Miss, <a href="#Page_82">82</a></li> +<li>Secher, Mr., wounded, <a href="#Page_49">49</a></li> +<li>Seymour, Mr., kindness to Miss Macnaughtan, <a href="#Page_266">266</a></li> +<li>Shaw, Bernard, <a href="#Page_189">189</a></li> +<li>Sheffield, lecture by Miss Macnaughtan, <a href="#Page_162">162</a></li> +<li>Shoppe, Lieutenant, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>; +<ul> +<li>at Nieuport, <a href="#Page_153">153</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>"Should the Germans come," lecture on, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>-<a href="#Page_173">173</a></li> +<li>Sim, <a href="#Page_178">178</a></li> +<li>Sindici, <a class="correction" title="missing period in original">Mme.</a>, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a></li> +<li>Slippers for the wounded, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>, <a href="#Page_98">98</a></li> +<li>Smith, Captain, <a href="#Page_198">198</a></li> +<li>Smith, Mr. Lancelot, <a href="#Page_182">182</a></li> +<li>Smith, Mr. Robinson, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a></li> +<li>Smitkin, Dr., <a href="#Page_259">259</a></li> +<li>Sommerville, Mr. R., <a href="#Page_xii">xii</a></li> +<li>Soup-kitchen at Adinkerke, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>; +<ul> +<li>Furnes, <a href="#Page_60">60</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Spies, German, shot, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_186">186</a></li> +<li>Stanley, Miss, <a href="#Page_2">2</a></li> +<li>Stanmore, Lord, <a href="#Page_183">183</a></li> +<li>Stear, Miss, <a href="#Page_4">4</a></li> +<li>Steen, Mme. van den, <a href="#Page_137">137</a></li> +<li>Steenkerke, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>, <a href="#Page_155">155</a></li> +<li>Stenning, Mr., <a href="#Page_xii">xii</a></li> +<li>Stobart, Mrs. St. Clair, head of the hospital unit at Antwerp, <a href="#Page_2">2</a>; +<ul> +<li>office, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>;</li> +<li>issues orders, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>;</li> +<li>leaves Antwerp, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>;</li> +<li>return to England, <a href="#Page_22">22</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Stockholm, <a href="#Page_180">180</a></li> +<li>Stoney, Dr. F., <a href="#Page_2">2</a></li> +<li>"Stories and Pictures of the War," lecture on, <a href="#Page_167">167</a></li> +<li>Streatfield, Mr., <a href="#Page_74">74</a></li> +<li>Stretchers, size of, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>, <a href="#Page_69">69</a></li> +<li>Strickland, Mr., <a href="#Page_87">87</a></li> +<li>Strutt, Emily, <a href="#Page_85">85</a></li> +<li>Strutt, Neville, <a href="#Page_178">178</a></li> +<li>Sutherland, Duchess of, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>; +<ul> +<li>hospital at St. Malo-les-Bains, <a href="#Page_44">44</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Sweden, Crown Prince of, <a href="#Page_181">181</a></li> +<li>Sweden, Crown Princess of, appearance, <a href="#Page_181">181</a><br /><br /></li> + +<li>Taff river, <a href="#Page_164">164</a></li> +<li>Takmakoff, Mme., <a href="#Page_200">200</a>, <a href="#Page_203">203</a></li> +<li>Tapp, Mr., <a href="#Page_64">64</a></li> +<li>Teck, Prince Alexander of, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>; +<ul> +<li>at Furnes, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>, <a href="#Page_83">83</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Tehran, <a href="#Page_260">260</a></li> +<li>Thompson, Mr., <a href="#Page_138">138</a></li> +<li>Tiflis, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>, <a href="#Page_214">214</a>, <a href="#Page_230">230</a></li> +<li>Tonepentre, <a href="#Page_164">164</a></li> +<li>Toney Pandy, <a href="#Page_164">164</a></li> +<li>Travelling-kitchens, <a href="#Page_51">51</a></li> +<li>Tree, Viola, <a href="#Page_183">183</a></li> +<li>Tschelikoff, Prince, <a href="#Page_233" class="correction" title="superfluous comma in original">233</a></li> +<li>Turks, cruelties, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>, <a href="#Page_209">209</a></li> +<li>Turner, Dr. Rose, <a href="#Page_2">2</a></li> +<li>Tyrell, Major, <a href="#Page_151">151</a></li> +<li><a class="correction" title="text has "Tysczkievcz"; most likely meant to be the Polish name "Tyszkiewicz"">Tysczkievez</a>, Count, <a href="#Page_222">222</a><br /><br /></li> + +<li>Urumiyah, evacuated, <a href="#Page_223">223</a><br /><br /></li> + +<li>Vaughan, Miss, at Furnes, <a href="#Page_68">68</a></li> +<li>Vickers-Maxim works, Erith, lecture by Miss Macnaughtan, <a href="#Page_160">160</a></li> +<li>Victoria, Grand Duchess, <a href="#Page_185">185</a></li> +<li>Villiers, Sir Francis, British Minister at Antwerp, <a href="#Page_9">9</a></li> +<li>Vladikavkas, <a href="#Page_207">207</a><br /><br /></li> + +<li>Wales, <a href="#Page_163">163</a></li> +<li><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span>Walker, Colonel, <a href="#Page_112">112</a></li> +<li>Walter, Mr. Hubert, <a href="#Page_143">143</a></li> +<li>Walton, Colonel, <a href="#Page_176">176</a></li> +<li><a class="correction" title="missing comma in original">War,</a> charities, administration, <a href="#Page_219">219</a>-<a href="#Page_222">222</a>; +<ul> +<li>cost of the, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>;</li> +<li>cruelties, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>-<a href="#Page_178">178</a>;</li> +<li>result, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>;</li> +<li>souvenirs, <a href="#Page_143">143</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Wardepett, Bishop, <a href="#Page_229">229</a></li> +<li>Ware, Mr. F., <a href="#Page_85">85</a></li> +<li>Waring, Lady Clémentine, letters from Miss Macnaughtan, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>-<a href="#Page_52">52</a>, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>, <a href="#Page_260">260</a>; +<ul> +<li>at Lennel, <a href="#Page_163">163</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Warship, British, shelled by the Germans, <a href="#Page_105">105</a></li> +<li>Watts, Dr., <a href="#Page_2">2</a></li> +<li>Welwyn, <a href="#Page_160">160</a></li> +<li><a class="correction" title="original had "Westminister"">Westminster</a>, Duke of, at Dixmude, <a href="#Page_127">127</a></li> +<li>Whiting, Captain, <a href="#Page_73">73</a></li> +<li>William II., Emperor of Germany, supposed conversion to <a class="correction" title="original had "Mahommedanism"">Mahomedanism</a>, <a href="#Page_209">209</a></li> +<li>William, Capt. Rhys, <a href="#Page_239">239</a></li> +<li>Williams, Mr. Hume, <a href="#Page_223">223</a></li> +<li>Wilson, Dr., <a href="#Page_69">69</a>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a></li> +<li>Wilson, <a href="#Page_178">178</a></li> +<li>Wood, Mr., <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_121">121</a></li> +<li>Wynne, Mrs., <a href="#Page_132">132</a>, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>; +<ul> +<li>at Christiania, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>;</li> +<li>Moscow, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>;</li> +<li>Baku, <a href="#Page_231">231</a><br /><br /></li> +</ul></li> + +<li>Young, Capt. Alan, at Boulogne, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>; +<ul> +<li>experiences in the war, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>;</li> +<li>wounded, <a href="#Page_57">57</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Young, Mrs. Charles, letter from Miss Macnaughtan, <a href="#Page_214">214</a></li> +<li>Younghusband, Sir Frank, <a href="#Page_164">164</a>; +<ul> +<li>speech at Cardiff, <a href="#Page_169">169</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Ypres, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>; +<ul> +<li>battle at, <a href="#Page_144">144</a>, <a href="#Page_146">146</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Yser, the, <a href="#Page_64">64</a>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>, <a href="#Page_141">141</a></li> +</ul> + +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> + +<p>BILLING AND SONS, LTD., PRINTERS, GUILDFORD, ENGLAND</p> + +<p> </p> +<hr class="pg" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY WAR EXPERIENCES IN TWO CONTINENTS***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 18364-h.txt or 18364-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/8/3/6/18364">http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/3/6/18364</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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