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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.12.12.00*END* + + + + + +This Etext prepared by Brett Fishburne (william.fishburne@verizon.net) + + + + + +"The kinship of blood between nations may grow weaker, but the +kinship of ideals and purposes constitutes a permanent bond of +union." John Lewis Griffiths + + + + + +The net proceeds of the sale of this book will be used in aiding +the needy families of the men of the Naval Militia who have been +called to the defense of liberty. + + + + + +Dedication + + + + +To our sailors, soldiers, and nurses in appreciation of their +heroism and sacrifice in the cause of Liberty and Democracy. + +"Oh, land of ours be glad of such as these." Theodosia Garrison. + +"To such a task we can dedicate our lives and our fortunes, everything +that we are, and everything that we have, with the pride of those +who know that the day has come when America is privileged to spend +her blood and her might for the principles that gave her birth and +happiness, and the peace which she has treasured. God helping her, +she can do no other." Woodrow Wilson. + + + + + +A Message From Vice Admiral William Sowden Sims, U.S.N., Commanding +the American Naval Forces Operating in European Waters + + + + +In such an hour as that with which we are now confronted, when so +much depends upon the individual efforts, our hearts swell with +pride as we learn of the thousands of America's best, staunch and +true men who are so willingly forgetting their own personal welfare +and linking their lives and all that they are with the cause of +liberty and justice, which is so dear to the hears of the American +people. All honor to those who are giving themselves as such willing +sacrifices, and may God grant that their efforts may be speedily +rewarded by a world condition which will make them realize that +their efforts have accomplished the desired result, and that the +world is better and happier because of them. + +[signed] Wm. S. Sims + + + + + +American Expeditionary Force Office of the Commanding General + +August 4th, 1917 + +I am very pleased to have an opportunity to say a word in praise +of the Militia of Mercy. + +Unless our women are imbued with Patriotic sentiments, there will +be little to hope for in our life. A nation is only as great as +its womanhood; and, as are the women, so are the sons. All praise +to the women of America! + +Please accept my very best wishes for the success of your organization. + +[signed] John J. Pershing. + + + + + +Introduction + + + + +I have seldom yielded so willingly to a request for my written +views as I do in this instance, when my valued friend, the master +journalist, Melville E. Stone, has asked me, on behalf of the Book +Committee, to write an introduction for "The Defenders of Democracy." +Needless to say, I comply all the more readily in view of the fact +that the book in which these words will appear is planned by the +ladies of the Militia of Mercy as a means of increasing the Fund +the Society is raising for the benefit of the families of "their +own men" on the battle-line. + +And what a theme! It demands a volume from any pen capable of doing +it justice. For the present purposes, however, I approve strongly +of a compilation which shall express the reasoned opinions of writers +representing the allied nations, while it is a real pleasure to +turn for a few minutes from the day's anxieties and consider the +one great force which supplies the leaven to a war-sodden world. +Are men to live in freedom or as slaves to a soulless system?--that +is the question which is now being solved in blood and agony and +tears on the battlefields of the Old World. The answer given by +the New World has never been in doubt, but its clarion note was +necessarily withheld in all its magnificent rhythm until President +Wilson delivered his Message to Congress last April. I have +no hesitation in saying that Mr. Wilson's utterance will become +immortal. It is a new declaration of the Rights of Man, but +a finer, broader one, based on the sure principles of Christian +ethics. Yet, mark how this same nobility of thought and purpose +runs like a vein of gold through the rock of valiant little Belgium's +defiance of the Hun, of President Poincare's firm stand, and of Mr. +Lloyd George's unflinching labors in the Sisyphean task of stemming +the Teutonic avalanche. Prussia's challenge to the world came with +the shock of some mighty eruption undreamed of by chroniclers of +earthquakes. It stunned humanity. Nowhere was its benumbing effect +more perceptible than in these United state, whose traditional +policy of non-interference in European disputes was submitted so +unexpectedly to the fierce test of Right versus Expediency. And +how splendidly did President, Senator, Congress and the People +respond to the test! Never for one instant did America's clear +judgment falter. The Hun was guilty, and must be punished. The +only issue to be solved was whether France, Britain, Italy and +Russia should convict and brand the felon unaided, or the mighty +power of the Western World should join hands with the avengers of +outraged law. Well, a purblind Germany settled that uncertainty +by a series of misdeeds which no nation of high ideals could allow +to pass unchallenged. I do believe most firmly that President +Wilson gave the criminal such chances of reform as no court of law +in the world would grant. But, at last, his patience was exhausted. +Whether the enslavers of Germany thought, in that crass ignorance +of other men's minds they have so often displayed, that America +meant to keep out of the war at all costs, or were merely careless +of consequences so long as the immediate end was attained, is now +immaterial. From the welter of Teutonic misdeeds and lies arises +the vital, the soul-inspiring spectacle of a union of all democracies +against the common foe. + +And right here, as the direct speech of New York has it, I want to +pay tribute to the sagacity, the clarity of vision, the sure divination +of the truth amidst a fog of deceit, which has characterized almost +the whole Press of the United States since those feverish days at +the end of July, 1914, when the nightmare of war was so quickly +succeeded by its dread reality. Efforts which might fairly be +described as stupendous were put forth by the advocates of Kultur +to win, if not the approval, at least the strict neutrality of +America. That the program of calculated misrepresentation failed +utterly was due in great part to the leading newspapers of New York, +Chicago, Philadelphia and the other main centers of industry and +population. Never has the value of a free Press been demonstrated +so thoroughly. The American editor is accustomed to weigh the gravest +problems of life on his own account without let or hindrance from +tradition, and it can be affirmed most positively that, excepting +the few instances of a suborned pro-German Press, the newspapers +of the United States condemned the Hun and his methods as roundly +and fearlessly as the "Independence Belge" itself whose staff had +actually witnessed the horrors of Vise and Louvain. These men +educated and guided public opinion. Republican or Democrat it +mattered not--they set out to determine from the material before +them what was Right and what was Wrong. Once convinced that the +Hun was a menace they made their readers understand beyond cavil +just what that menace meant. So I claim that the editors of the +United States are entitled to high rank among the Defenders of +Democracy. When the history of the war, or rather a just analysis +of its causes and effects, comes to be written I shall be much +mistaken if the critical historian does not give close heed and +honorable mention to the men who wrote the articles which kept the +millions of America thoroughly and honestly informed. Think what +it would have meant had their influence been thrown into the scale +against the Allies! By that awesome imagining alone can the extent +of their service by measured. + +If I have wandered a little from my theme, since our veritable +"Defenders" are the men who are giving their life's blood at the +front, and the band of noble women who are tending them in hospital, +it will surely be understood that, if I name them last they are +first in my heart. I have seen much of the war. I know what your +soldiers, sailors and nurses are called on to endure. I rejoice +that in dedicating this book to them, you honor them while they +live. Never let their memory fade when they are dead. They gave +their lives for their friends, and greater love than that no man +hath. + +[signed]Northcliff + + + + + +Essential Service + + + + +"I wish all success to 'The Defenders of Democracy.' The men who +are in this war on the part of the United States are doing the one +vitally important work which it is possible for Americans to do at +this time. Nothing else counts now excepting that we fight this +war to a finish. Those men are thrice fortunate who are given +the chance to serve under arms at the front. They are not only +rendering the one essential service to this country and to mankind, +but they are also earning honor as it cannot otherwise be earned +by any men of our generation. As for the rest of us, our task is +to back them up in every way possible." + +[signed]Theodore Roosevelt + + + + + +Kittery Point, Me., October 14, 1917 + +I am never good at messages or sentiments, but perhaps if Mr. +Rouland's portrait of me were literally a speaking likeness it +would entreat you to believe that I revere and honor in my heart +and soul, the noble ideals of the Militia of Mercy. + +Yours sincerely, + +[signed]W. D. Howells. + + + + + +[The following is written in long hand] How Can I Serve? + + + + +There are strange ways of serving God You sweep a room or turn a +sod, And suddenly to your surprise You hear the whirr of seraphim +And ?uid you're under God's own eyes And building palaces for +him. + +There are strange, unexpected ways Of going soldiering these days +It may be only census-blanks You're asked to conquer with a pen, +But suddenly you're in the ranks And fighting for the rights of +men! + +[signed]Hermann Hagedorn. + +For the Militia of Mercy August 15, 1917. + + + + + +The Editors gratefully acknowledge the rich contributions to this +book which it has been their privilege to arrange. The generous +spirit which has accompanied each gift permeates the pages, and +its genial glow will be felt by all of our readers. + +The book is only a fire-side talk on the ideals and purposes held +in common by those who belong to the friendly circle of the Allies, +and is not intended to have diplomatic, economic or official +significance. The Editors, however, have been honored by the +approval of their plan, and have received invaluable assistance from +diplomatists, statesmen and men of affairs in securing contributions +otherwise inaccessible at the present time. + +We wish to acknowledge (although we cannot adequately express our +appreciation) the gift from the PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES of +his portrait, and his kind recognition of our desire to render an +international service. + +We are especially indebted to VISCOUNT ISHII, Special Ambassador +from Japan to Washington, D. C., and to LORD NORTHCLIFFE, Chairman +of the British War Mission, for their thoughtful and sympathetic +articles written during days crowded with official duties. + +We owe a debt of thanks to HIS EXCELLENCY, the ITALIAN AMBASSADOR, +for the privilege of publishing for the first time in America, +D'ANNUNZIO'S sonnet to GENERAL CADORNA; to THEIR EXCELLENCIES, the +PORTUGUESE, GREEK, and CHINESE MINISTERS, for helpful suggestions +and translations; to MR. WILLIAM PHILLIPS, ASSISTANT SECRETARY OF +STATE; to MR. JOHN HAYS HAMMOND; to MR. JOHN LANE, MR. W. J. LOCKE, +MRS. THEODORE McKENNA, all of London, England, who assembled our +rich English contributions for us; to MR. WILLIAM DE LEFTWICH DODGE +for the cover design, a rare and beautiful tribute to our defenders; +to MR. MELVILLE E. STONE, without whose personal influence we could +not have secured contributions from all of our Allies in so short +a time; to MR. J. JEFFERSON JONES and MR. WILLIAM DANA ORCUTT, who +have devoted time and thought without stint to the making of the +book, and have given the committee the advantage of their technical +knowledge and distinguished taste entirely as a patriotic service; +to MISS LILIAN ELLIOTT for her many translations from Portuguese +and Spanish writers; to MISS LA MONTAIGNE, CHAIRMAN of THE CARDINAL +MERCIER FUND; to MR. TALCOTT WILLIAMS, MR. ROBERT UNDERWOOD JOHNSON, +MR. DANIAL FROHMAN; to THE BRITISH WAR MISSION, THE FRIENDS OF +FRANCE AND HER ALLIES COMMITTEE, and to THE RUSSIAN AND SERBIAN +CIVIL RELIEF COMMITTEES. To ALL we give our heartfelt thanks. + +THE EDITORS. + + + + + +Preface + + + + +This beautiful book is the expression of the eager desire of all +of the gifted men and women who have contributed to it and of the +members of the Militia of mercy to render homage to our sailors, +soldiers, nurses and physicians who offer the supreme sacrifice +to free the stricken people of other lands and to protect humanity +with their bodies from an enemy who has invented the name and created +the thing "welt-schmerz"--world anguish. But we want it do more +than extol their heroism and sacrifice, we want The Defenders of +Democracy to help them win the war. It has been the thought of +those who planned the book to meet three things needful, not only +to the army at the front, but to that vaster army at home who watch +and work and wait (and perhaps we need it more than they who have +the stimulus of action)--to strengthen the realization that our +soldiers of sea and land, though far away, are fighting for a cause +which is vitally near the heart of every man and every woman, and +the soul of every nation--human freedom; "to forge the weapon of +victory by fanning the flame of cheerfulness," and to be the means +of lifting the burden of anxiety from those who go, lest their loved +ones should suffer privation, bereft of their protecting care. So +truly is this an Age of Service, that the response to the scope +and spirit of our work was immediate and within four months from +the day we sent our first request for co-operation in carrying out +our plans, we had received the rich contributions contained in this +book from men and women of letters and other arts, not only from +our own generous country, but from our allies. + +Perhaps the most difficult task fell to those who were asked not +to write of the war but to practice the gentle art of cheering us +all up--an art so easily lost in these days of sorrow, suspense +and anxiety--yet we have received many delightful contributions +in harmony with this request, and so the cheerful note, the finer +optimism, recurs again and again, and is sustained to the last +page. + +Such a book is historic. It is a consecration of the highest gifts +to the cause of human freedom and human fraternity. The Militia of +Mercy, in expressing its gratitude to the men and women so greatly +endowed who have made this book possible, trust they will find +a rich reward in the thought that it will give both spiritual and +material aid to those who are fighting in the great war. + +The book will be sold for the benefit of the families of the men +of the Naval Militia now in the Federal Service and taking part in +sea warfare. John Lane Company have published the book at cost, +so that the publisher's profits, as well as our own, will be given +to the patriotic work of the Militia of Mercy. + +It has been repeatedly said during the past year that America had +not begun to feel the war. If America has not, how many Americans +there are who have! We all know that the responsibilities and +inequalities of war were felt first by our sailors. The whole +outlook on life changed for many families of the Naval Militia the +day after diplomatic relations with Germany were severed. Husbands, +fathers and sons were called to service without any opportunity to +provide for current expenses or to arrange for the future welfare +of their loved ones. The burden of providing for the necessities +of life fell suddenly, without warning, upon the wives and mothers +of the civilian sailors. The world knew nothing of these cases, +but the members of the Militia of Mercy who have visited the needy +families, realize with what heroism, courage and self-sacrifice +the women have done and are doing their part. + +For those of us who look on, to help them is not charity, but +opportunity for patriotic service to give a VERY LITTLE to those +who are giving ALL THEY CHERISH and ALL THEY HOLD DEAR for the sake +of human Liberty and Democracy. + + + + + +Table of Contents + + + + +Woodrow Wilson, President of the United States. A Message. . . . vi +Vice Admiral William Sowden Sims, U.S.N. A Message . . . . . . . . vii + Commanding the American Naval Forces Operating in European Waters +General John J. Pershing, U.S.A. A Letter. . . . . . . . . . . . . viii + Commanding General American Expeditionary Force +Lord Northcliffe. Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ix + Chairman, British War Mission to the United States +Theodore Roosevelt. Essential Service. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xiii + Twenty-sixth President of the United States. Author and + Statesman +William Dean Howells. A Letter . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xiv + American Author, New York, President of the American Academy of + Arts and Letters +Hermann Hagedorn. "How Can I Serve?" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xv + American Writer, New York. President, Vigilantes, American + League of Artists and Authors for Patriotic Services +Preface . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xvii + + +Contributions of Writers + + +Belgium + + +Gaston De Leval. Belgium and America . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3 + Belgian Advocate for Edith Cavell +Emile Cammaerts. Good Old Bernstorff! . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6 + Belgian Poet + + +China + + +Tsa Yuan-Pei. The War in Europe . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8 + Chancellor of the Government University of Peking + (Translation, Courtesy of the Chinese Minister) + + +A Symposium--Democracy + + +George Sterling. Invocation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9 + American Poet, California +George A. Birmingham. The Test . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10 + (Canon James O. Hannay) Irish Clergyman and Man of Letters +John Galsworthy. The New Comradship . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12 + English Writer +William J. Locke. Questionings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14 + English Novelist +Henry Van Dyke. Democracy in Peace and War . . . . . . . . . . . . 17 + American Clergyman, Diplomat and Writer + + +An Interlude + + +Harriet Monroe. Sunrise over the Peristyle . . . . . . . . . . . . 18 + American Poet, Chicago + + +The Drama + + +Daniel Frohman. Reminiscences of Booth . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20 + Theatrical Manager and Writer, New York +J. Hartley Manners. God of My Faith: A One Act Play . . . . . . . 24 + Dramatist, New York + + +France + + +Frederick Coudert. To France . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44 + American Lawyer and Publicist +Anatole France. Ce Que Disent Nos Morts . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47 + French Author. (Translation by Emma M. Pope) +Rupert Hughes. The Transports (Poetical Version of Sully + Prud'homme's "Les Berceaux") . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 53 + American Writer, New York +Stephane Lauzanne. La Priere du Poilu . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 54 + French Writer, Editor Le Matin. (Translation by Madame Carlo + Polifeme) + + +Great Britain + + +Honourable James M. Beck. A Tribute to England . . . . . . . . . 61 + American Lawyer and Publicist +Lord Bryce. Unity and Peace . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 66 + English Statesman and Author +Robert Hichens. Our Common Heritage . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67 + English Novelist +Stephen McKenna. Poetic Justice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 69 + English Statesman and Novelist +Lady Aberdeen. The Spell of the Kilties . . . . . . . . . . . . . 84 + (Wife of the Marquis of Aberdeen and Temair, K. T., Scotland) +Mrs. Belloc Lowndes. Sherston's Wedding Eve . . . . . . . . . . . 87 + English Novelist, London +Ralph Connor. A Canadian Soldier's Dominion Day at Shorncliffe . 105 + Canadian Novelist +Stephen Leacock. Simple as Day . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 111 + Canadian Writer, Professor McGill University, Montreal +May Sinclair. The Epic Standpoint in the War . . . . . . . . . . 118 + English Writer, London + + +Greece + + +Eleutherios Venizelos. The Greek Spirit . . . . . . . . . . . . . 122 + (Translation, with notes, by Caroll N. Brown) + + +Italy + + +William Roscoe Thayer. Italy and Democracy. A Tribute to Italy . 127 + American Historian and Poet +Gabriele D'Annunzio. Al Generale Cadorna . . . . . . . . . . . . 131 + Italian Poet +C.H. Grangent. Sonnet + (Poetical version in English of the above) . . . . . . . . . 132 + Professor of Romance Languages, Harvard University +Amy Bernardy. The Voice of Italy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 133 + Italian Writer + + +Japan + + +Viscount K. Ishii. Japan's Ideals and Her Part in the Struggle . 137 + Japanese Statesman, Special Ambassador to Washington, D.C., 1917 + + +Latin America + + +Salomon De La Selva. Tropical Interlude . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141 + Nicaraguan Poet +Lilian E. Elliott, F.R.G.S. Latin America and the War . . . . . . 145 + Literary Editor, Pan American Magazine +Salomon De La Selva. Drill . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 157 + + +Portugal + + +Henrique Lopes De Mendonca. The People's Struggle . . . . . . . . 161 + Portuguese writer. Member of Academy of Science, Lisbon +Edgar Prestage. Portugal . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 162 + English Writer, A Friend of Portugal + + +Roumania + + +Achmed Abdullah. Roumania--An Interpretation . . . . . . . . . . 166 + Novelist. Of the Family of the Ameer of Afghanistan + + +Russia + + +Ivan Narodny. The Soul of Russia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 169 + Russian Patriot and Writer. Member of the Russian Civilian + Relief Committee, New York +Ivan Narodny. The American Bride . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 175 +Sergey Makowsky. The Insane Priest . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 189 + Russian Poet. (Translation by Constance Purdy) + + +Serbia + + +M. Boich. Without a Country . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 190 + Serbian Poet. (Translation by Professor Miloche Trivonnatz) + + +United States of America + + +Indian Prayer. To the Mountain Spirit . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 192 + Interpreted by Mary Austin +Maurice Hewlett. To America, 4 July, 1776 . . . . . . . . . . . . 194 + English Man of Letters +Charles W. Eliot. The Need of Force to Win and Maintain Peace . . 195 + President Emeritus of Harvard University +James Cardinal Gibbons. Woman and Mercy . . . . . . . . . . . . . 197 + Cardinal, Baltimore, Maryland +John Lewis Griffiths. Joan of Arc--Her Heritage . . . . . . . . . 199 + From an address delivered in London, 1911 +Dr. J.H. Jowett. Things Which Cannot Be Shaken . . . . . . . . . 201 + English Clergyman, 5th Ave. Presbyterian Church, N.Y. +Owen Johnson. Somewhere in France . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 206 + American Author +Melville E. Stone. The Associated Press . . . . . . . . . . . . . 209 + Journalist, General Manager of the Associated Press, N.Y. +Mary Austin. Pan and the Pot-Hunter . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 214 + American Writer, New York +Robert W. Chambers. Men of the Sea . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 222 + American Author, New York +Arthur Guy Empey. Jim--A Soldier of the King . . . . . . . . . . 226 + American. Volunteer Soldier in the British Army and Author, + "Over the Top" +Edna Ferber. Heel and Toe . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 235 + American Novelist, Chicago +Theodosia Garrison. Those Who Went First . . . . . . . . . . . . 243 + American Poet, New Jersey +Louise Closser Hale. A Summer's Day . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 244 + American Actress and Author, New York +Louis Untermeyer. Children of the War . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 257 + American Poet, New York +Fannie Hurst. Khaki-Boy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 258 + American Novelist and Dramatist, New York +Robert Underwood Johnson. Hymn to America . . . . . . . . . . . . 269 + American Editor and Author, New York +Amy Lowell. The Breaking Out of the Flags . . . . . . . . . . . . 270 + American Poet, Cambridge, Mass. +Mrs. John Lane. Our Day . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 273 + American by Birth, Author, London, England +George Barr McCutcheon. Pour La Patrie . . . . . . . . . . . . . 275 + American Novelist, Indiana and New York +Edna St. Vincent Millay. Sonnet . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 286 + American Poet, Camden, Maine +Gouverneur Morris. The Idiot . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 287 + American Author, New York +James Oppenheim. Memories of Whitman and Lincoln . . . . . . . . 299 + American Poet, New York +James F. Pryor. Bred to the Sea . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 304 + American Lawyer and Writer +Evaleen Stein. Our Defenders . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 306 + American Poet and Story Teller, La Fayette, Indiana +Alice Woods. The Bomb . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 308 + American Story Writer +Myron T. Herrick. To Those Who Go . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 322 + American Statesman, Diplomatist, Publicist, Cleveland, Ohio +Amelie Rives. The Hero's Peace . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 324 + Princess Troubetzkoy, American Novelist and Poet, Virginia + + +We gratefully acknowledge the privilege of reproducing the following +articles:-- + +"The Need of Force to Win and Maintain Peace," by Dr. C. W. +Elliot--"New York Times." "The Breaking Out of the Flags," by Amy +Lowell--"Independent." "The Bomb," by Alice Woods--"Century Magazine." +"Children of the War," by Louis Untermeyer--"Collier's Weekly." + +All other contributions have been especially written for "The +Defenders of Democracy." + + + + + +Illustrations + + + + +Childe Hassam. Allies' Day. From the Original Painting. + (Color) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Frontispiece + American Artist, New York +Portrait. Woodrow Wilson, President of the United States . . . . vi +Portrait Photograph. His Eminence Cardinal Mercier . Facing page 4 +Albert Sterner. Sympathy. From the Original Drawing . . . . . . 6 + American Artist, New York +Photograph. "The Happy Warriors." (Marshal Joffre and General + Pershing.) Courtesy of L'Illustration, Paris . . . . . . . 14 +Jules Guerin. Ballet by Moonlight. (Color) From the Original + Painting . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20 + American Artist, New York +Jacquier. Marshal Joffre. Drawn from life . . . . . . . . . . . 44 +J. J. Van Ingen. Memory. From the Original Drawing . . . . . . . 52 + American Artist, New York +Portrait Photograph. The Right Honourable Arthur James Balfour . 66 +Charles Dana Gibson. Her Answer. From the Original Sketch . . . 126 + American Artist, New York +Portrait Photograph. General Cadorna . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 132 +William De Leftwich Dodge. From the Original Paintings in Oils + (1) The Consecration of the Swords . . . . . . . . . . Cover Design + (2) Atlantic and Pacific. (Color) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 140 + (3) Gateway of All Nations. (Color) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 160 + American Artist, New York +O. E. Cesare. Russia's Struggle. From the Original Cartoon . . . 168 + American Artist, New York +John S. Sargent. "Big Moon" (Black Foot Chief.) From the + Original Drawing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 192 + American Painter, Boston, Mass. +John S. Sargent. A Profile. From the Original Drawing Sketch . . 194 +George Barnard. Abraham Lincoln . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 196 + American Sculptor, New York +Portrait in Oil. Theodore Roosevelt. By George Burroughs Torrey 204 + In the Brooklyn Museum +Portrait Photograph. Melville E. Stone . . . . . . . . . . . . . 212 +Penrhyn Stanlaws. Souvenir de Jeunesse. (Color) From the + Original Pastel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 220 + Scotch Artist, New York +Portrait Photograph. Vice Admiral William Sowden Sims . . . . . . 224 +Portrait Photograph. General John J. Pershing . . . . . . . . . . 234 +Walter Hale. "Once the Giant Toy of a People who Frolicked." + From the Original Water Color . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 244 + American Artist, New York +John T. McCutcheon. The Married Slacker. From the Original + Drawing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 268 + American Artist, Indiana +W. Orlando Rouland. Portrait of W. D. Howells. From the Original + Painting . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 274 + American Artist, New York +George Bellows. They Shipyard. (Color) From the Original Oil + Painting . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 304 + American Artist, New York +Joseph Pennell. Dawn. From the Original Drawing . . . . . . . . 324 + American Artist, New York + +We are grateful to + +The Beck Engraving Co., of New York and Philadelphia, for furnishing +the black-and-white reproductions without charge, and the four-color +plates at cost. + +The Plimpton Press, of Norwood, Mass., for its cooperative assistance. + +The Walker Engraving Co., of New York, for supplying the color +plates for the cover at cost. + +M. Knoedler & Co., of New York, for the privilege of reproducing +Jacquier's drawing from life of Marechal Joffre. + +Frederick Keppel & Co., of New York, for Mr. Pennell's drawing. + + + + + +Belgium and America + + + + +It would be a banality to speak about the gratitude of the Belgian +people toward America. Every one knows from the beginning of the +war that when the Belgians were faced with starvation, it was the +American Commission for Relief which saved the situation, forming +all over the country, in America and elsewhere, those Committees +who collected the funds raised to help the Belgians, and saw that +they reached the proper channel and were utilized to the best +advantage of the Belgian people. + +But helping to feed the people was not enough. The Americans did +more. They gave their heart. Every one of them who came into +my country to act as a volunteer for the Commission for Relief, +brought with him the sympathy of all the people that were behind +him. Every one of these young Americans, who, under the leadership +of Mr. Hoover, came into my country to watch the distribution of the +foodstuffs imported by the Commission for Relief, became a sincere +friend of my countrymen. He stood between us and the Germans as a +vigilant sentry of the civilized world, and was able to tell when +he returned to America all the sufferings and all the courage of +the Belgian population. + +I remember traveling in America some ten years ago, and being +asked, while I was reading a Belgian paper, where this paper came +from and when I answered "It came from Belgium, the next question +was: "Belgium? It is a province of France, isn't it?" Now I +do not think that any person in America, nor in any other part of +the world, will not know where Belgium is. + +The American Commission for Relief has to be credited with putting +in closer contact the suffering population of my country with all +persons the world over who were eager to assist it. It especially +brought the sufferings of our people nearer to the heart of the +American population. Every one knows that. But what every one does +not know is the silent and effective work performed in Belgium by +Mr. Brand Whitlock, the American Minister. He was the real man at +the right place and at the right hour. No one could have better +than he, with his deep humanitarian feeling, been able to understand +the moral side of the sufferings of the Belgians under the German +occupation. No one could better than he find, at the very moment +when they were needed, the words appropriate to meet the circumstances, +and to convey to the people of this stricken country the feelings +which Mr. Whitlock knew were beating in the hearts of all Americans. + +When the German authorities forbade the display of the Belgian Flag, +and the Tri-Color so dear to our hearts had to be hauled down, the +American Flag everywhere took its place. Washington's birthday and +Independence Day were almost as solemn festivities to the Brussels +people as the fete nationale, and thousands of persons called +at the legation on those days; deputations were sent by the town +and official authorities to show how deep was the Belgian feeling +for the United States. America was for the Belgians "une second +Patrie," because they felt that, although America was at the time +remaining neutral, her sympathy was entirely on our side, and when +the time would come she would even prove it on the battlefields. + +It may therefore be said that although the war has had for my country +the most cruel consequences, there is one consolation to it. It +has shown that humility is better than the pessimist had said it +was, and that money is not the only god before which the nations +bow. It has revealed that all over the world, and especially in +America, there is a respect for right and for duty; it has proved +that the moral beauty of an action is fully appreciated. The war +has revealed Belgium to America, and America to Belgium. The tie +between our two countries is stronger than any tie has ever been +between two far distant people, and nothing will be able to break +it, as it rests not on some political interest or some selfish +reason, but because it has been interwoven with the very fibers of +the hearts of the people. + +[signed]G. de Leval Avocat la cour d'Appel de Bruxelles, Legal +advisor to the American and British Legations in Belgium. + + + + + +Good Old Bernstorff! + + + + +Then entrance of America in the war has been nothing short of a +miracle--perhaps, with the Marne, the most wonderful miracle, among +many others, which we have witnessed since August, 1914. + +I do not wish to be misunderstood. I am not necessarily referring +to supernatural influences. This will remain a matter of opinion--or +rather of belief. I am merely speaking from the ordinary point +of view of the main in the street concerning what is likely or not +likely to happen in the world. + +People have very generously admired Belgium's attitude, but anybody +knowing the Belgians and their King might have prophesied Liege, +and the Yser battle. Others have praised the timely interference +of England and the self-sacrifice of the many thousand British +volunteers who rushed to arms, during the early days of the war, +to avenge the wrong done to a small people whose only crime was +to stand in the way of a blind and ruthless military machine. But +such an attitude was too much in the tradition of British fair +play to come as a surprise to those who knew intimately the country +and the people. Besides, from the Government's point of view, +non-intervention would have been a political mistake for which the +whole nation would have had to pay dearly in the near future, as +subsequent events have conclusively shown. + +But America? What had America to do in the conflict? She had not +signed the treaties guaranteeing Belgium's neutrality. She was +not directly threatened by German Imperialism. She had never taken +any part in European politics. Her moral responsibility was not +engaged and her immediate interest was to preserve to the end all +the advantages of neutrality and to benefit, after the war, by the +exhaustion of Europe... + +I had the opportunity of seeing, a few days ago, the second contingent +of American troops marching through London on their way to France. +The Belgian flag flew from our window and, as we cheered the men, +some of them, recognizing the colors, waved their hand towards +us. And as I watched their bright smile and remembered the eager +interest shown by so many citizens of the States to Belgian's fate, +and the deep indignation provoked beyond the Atlantic by the German +atrocities and by the more recent deportations, I was inclined +to think, for one moment, that I had solved the problem, and that +their sympathy for Belgium had brought these soldiers to the rescue. +We are so easily inclined to exaggerate the part which one country +is playing! + +But as I looked at the men again, I was struck by the grim expression +on their faces, the almost threatening determination of their light +swinging step. And I soon realized that neither their sympathy +for England, France or Belgium had brought them here. They had not +come merely to fight for other peoples, they had their own personal +grievance. they were not there only to help their friends, but +also to punish their enemies. + +As I turned in to resume my work, I heard a friend of mine who +whispered, rubbing his hands: "Good old Bernstorff! Kind old von +Paepen! Blessed old Ludendorf!" + +And I understood that Germany had been our best champion, and that +her plots, her intrigues, and her U boats had done more to convert +America than our most eloquent denunciations. There is no neutrality +possible in the face of lawlessness and Germanism. Sooner or later +we feel that "he how is not with Him is against Him." And there +is no compromise, no conciliation which might prevail against such +feeling. + +[signed] Em. Cammaerts + + + + + +The War in Europe + + + + +Translation of a part of an address by Mr. Tsa Yuan-Pei, Chancellor +of the Government University of Peking and formerly Minister of +Education in the first Republican Cabinet, delivered on March 3rd, +1917, at Peking before the "Wai Chiao Hou Yuan Hui," or a "Society +for the Support of Diplomacy." + + +I am a scholar and not a practical politician. Therefore I can +only give you my views as a man of letters. As I see it, the War +in Europe is really one between Right and Might, or in other words, +between Morality and Savagery. Our proverbs run to this effect: +"Every one should sweep the snow in front of his door and leave +alone the frost on the roof of his neighbor," and that "when the +neighbors are fighting, close your door." These proverbs have been +used by the anti-war party in China as arguments against China's +entrance into the War. The War in Europe, however, is not the "frost +on the roof of our neighbor," but rather the "snow right in front +of our door." It is not a "fight between neighbors," but rather a +quarrel within the family--the family of Nations. China therefore +cannot remain indifferent. For, if Germany should eventually win +the War, it would mean the triumph of Might over Right, and the +world would be without moral principles. Should this occur, it +would endanger the future of China. It is therefore necessary for +China to cast her lot with the Right. + +Courtesy of CHINESE MINISTER. + + + + + +Invocation + + + + +Because of the decision of a few,-- Because in half a score +of haughty minds The night lay black and terrible, thy winds, O +Europe! are a stench on heaven's blue. Thy scars abide, and here +is nothing new: Still from the throne goes forth the dark that +blinds, And still the satiated morning finds The unending thunder +and the bloody dew. + +Shall night be lord forever, and not light? Look forth, tormented +nations! Let your eyes Behold this horror that the few have +done! Then turn, strike hands, and in your burning might Impel +the fog of murder from the skies, And sow the hearts of Europe +with the sun! + +[signed]George Sterling. + +Bohemian Club, San Francisco 1915 + + + + + +The Test + + + + +It has been my fortune to see something of the war with the army +in France, and something also of what war means for those at home +who, having sent out sons and brothers, are themselves compelled +to wait and watch. I have seen suffering beyond imagination, pain, +hardship and misery. I have seen anxiety and sorrow which I should +have guessed beforehand men could not have borne without going mad. +But I have also seen the human spirit rise to wonderful heights. +Men and women have shown themselves greater, nobler, stronger than +in the old days of peace I thought they could be. + +It would not be very astonishing if the strain of war had called +forth a fresh greatness in those whose lives were already seen to +be in some way great; in our leaders, our teachers, our thinkers. +Or if an added nobility had appeared in our aristocracies of birth, +intellect, education, wealth, or whatever other accidents set men +above the mass of their fellows. Of such we expect a great response +to a great demand. And we have not been disappointed. The old +rule of life, NOBLESSE OBLIGE, has proved that it still possesses +driving force with the most of those to whom it applies. The thing +which has amazed me is the greatness of the common man. + +This I in no way expected or looked for. I confess that, before +the war, I was no believer in the great qualities of those who are +called "the people." They seemed to me to be living lives either +selfish, sometimes brutal, always sordid; or else mean, narrow, and +circumscribed by senseless conventions. I believed that society, +if it progressed at all, would be forced forward by the few, that +the many had not in them the qualities necessary for advance, were +incapable of the far visions which make advance desirable. I know +now that I was wrong, and I have come to the faith that the hoe of +the future is in the common people who have shown themselves great. + +So, I suppose, I may contribute to a book with such a title as +"The Defenders of Democracy." For now I am sure that democracy +has promise and hope in it. Only I am not sure that democracy has +even begun to understand itself. The common people have displayed +virtues so great that those who have seen them unite in a chorus +of praise. Their leaders, elected persons, guides chosen by votes +and popular acclamation, have shown in a hundred ways that they +will not, dare not, trust the people. Our silly censorships, our +concealments of unpleasant truths, our suppression of criticism, +our galling infringements of personal liberty, witness to the fact +that authority distrusts the source from which it sprang; that the +leaders of our democracy reckon the common people unfit to know, to +think or to act. If we are defending democracy we are sacrificing +liberty. Will you, in America, do better in this respect than we +have done? you believed in the common people before England did. +You believe in them, if we may trust your words, more completely +than England does. Do you believe in them sufficiently to trust +them? Or do you think that democracy can be defended only after +it has been blindfolded, hand-cuffed and gagged? This is what you +have got to show the world. No one doubts that you can fight. No +one doubts that you will fight, with all your strength, as England +is fighting. What we wonder is whether your great principle of +government, by the people and for the people, will stand the test +of a war like this. + +[signed]James O. Hannay + + + + + +The New Comradeship + + + + +Democracy is the outward and visible sign that a nation recognizes +its own needs and aspirations. Democracy wells up from the very +pit of things. Its value is its foundation in actuality, its +concordance with the slow unending process of man's evolution from +the animal he was. Democracy, for one with any comic and cosmic +animal sense, is the only natural form of government, because +alone it recognizes States as organisms, with spontaneous growth, +and a free will of their own. Democracy is final; other forms of +government are but steps on the way to it. It is the big thing, +because it can and does embody and make use of Aristocracy. It +is the rule of the future, because all human progress gradually +tends to recognition of God in man, and not outside of him; to the +establishment of the humanistic creed, and the belief that we have +the future in our own hands. + +In life at large, whom does one respect--the man who gropes and +stumbles upward to control of his instincts, and full development +of his powers, confronting each new darkness and obstacle as it +arises; or the man who shelters in a cloister, and lives by rote +and rules hung up for him by another in his cell? The first man +lives, the second does but exist. So it is with nations. + +The American and the Englishman are fundamentally democratic because +they are fundamentally self-reliant. Each demands to know why he +should do a thing before he does it. This is, I think, the great +link between two peoples in many ways very different; and they who +ardently desire abiding friendship between our two countries will +do well never to lose sight of it. Any sapping of this quality +of self-reliance, or judging for oneself, in either country, any +undermining of the basis of democracy will imperil our new-found +comradeship. You in America have before all things to fear the +warping power of great Trusts; we in England to dread the paralyzing +influence of Press groups. We have both to beware of the force +which the pressure of a great war inevitably puts into the hands of +Military Directorates. We are for the time being hardly democracies, +even on the surface; the democratic machinery still exists, but is +so ungeared by Censorship and Universal Service, that probably it +could not work even if it wanted to. We are now in the nature of +business concerns, run by Directors safe in office till General +Meetings, which cannot be held till after the War. But I am not +greatly alarmed. When the War is over, the pendulum will swing +back; the individual conscience which is our guarantee for democracy +and friendship will come into its own again, and shape our destinies +in common towards freedom and humanity. The English-speaking +democracies, in firm union, can and ought to be the unshifting +ballast of a better world. + +[signed] John Galsworthy + + + + + +Questionings + + + + +I have a brilliant idea which, without any parade of modesty, I +hereby commend to the notice of the American, French and British +Governments. Let them get together as soon as may be and give us an +authoritative definition of Democracy. Then we shall know where, +collectively, we are. Of course you may say that it has been +defined for all time by Abraham Lincoln. But thrilling in its +clear simplicity as his slogan epigram may be, a complex political +and social system cannot be fully dealt with in fifteen words. I +thought I knew what it was until a tidy few millions of friends +and myself were knocked silly by recent events in Russia. Here, +where the privates of a regiment hold a mass meeting and discuss for +hours an order to advance to the relief of sorely pressed comrades +and decide not to obey it, and eventually throw down their rifles +and with a meus conscia recti, proudly run away, we have Democracy +with a vengeance. Not one of the Defenders of Democracy who are +writing in this book would stand for it a second. Nor would they +stand for the slobbering maniacs who yearn to throw themselves into +the arms of the Germans, and, with the kiss of peace and universal +brotherhood, kiss away their brother's blood from their blood-smeared +faces. Nor would they stand entirely for those staunch democrats +who, inspired with a burning sense of human wrongs but with none +of proportion or humor, would sacrifice vital interests of humanity +in general for the transient amelioration of the lot of a particular +section of the community. For years these visionaries told us that +every penny spent on army or navy was a robbery of the working-man. +We yielded to him many pennies; but alas, they now have to be repaid +in blood. + +America has joined the civilized world in the struggle against the +surviving systems of medieval barbarism in Europe that have been +permitted to exist under the veneer of civilization. She sees clearly +what she has to destroy. So do we. No American and Englishman +can meet but that they grip hands and thank God together that they +are comrades in this Holy War. They are out, like Knights of Fable, +to rid the earth of a pestilential monster; and they will not rest +until their foot is on his slain monster's head. + +Which is, by Heaven! a glorious and soul-uplifting enterprise. In +it the blood of the Martyrs, rising to God. But with this difference: +the Martyrs died for a constructive scheme--that of Christianity. +What is the constructive scheme for which we are dying? It is easy +to say the Democratization of Mankind. It is a matter of common +assent that this consummation is ardently desired by the Royal Family +of England, by enlightened Indian Princes, by the philanthropists +of America, by the French artist, by the Roumanian peasant, by the +howling syndicalist in South Wales, by the Belgian socialist, by +the eager soul in the frail body who is at the helm of storm-tossed +Russia to-day, by the Montenegrin mountaineer, by the Sydney Larrikin +yelling down conscription, by millions of units belonging to the +civilized nations of such social and racial divergence that the +mind is staggered by the conception of them all fighting under one +banner. But are we sure they are all fighting for the same thing? +If they're not, there will be the deuce to pay all over the +terrestrial globe, even with a crushed Central European militarism. + +Therefore, with the same absence of modesty I cry for an authoritative +crystallization of the democratic aims of the civilized world. +England and France have groped their way through centuries towards +a vague ideal. America proudly began her existence by a proclamation +of the equal rights of man. She proudly proclaims them now; but the +world is involved in such a complicated muddle, that the utterances +of George Washington and Abraham Lincoln (to say nothing of their +intellectual and political ancestor Jean Jacques Rousseau) require +amplification. The political thought of the older nations of +Europe is tired out. It is for the fresher genius of America to +lead them towards the solution of the greatest problem which has +ever faced mankind:--the final, constructive and all-satisfying +definition of the myriadwise interpreted word Democracy. + +[signed] W. J. Locke + + + + + +Democracy in Peace and War + + + + +Democracy is by nature a lover of peace. That is the state which +it regards as the normal condition of human life, and in which +it seeks its best rewards and triumphs by the organization of the +common effort of all citizens for the common welfare. + +But while democracy is pacific in its desires and aims, it is not +a "pacifist." It is willing and able, though not always at the +moment ready, to take up arms in self-defense. In its broadening +vision of a fraternity of mankind, which shall be in the good future +not only intranational but also international, it is willing also +to FIGHT for the safety of its principles everywhere, and for the +security of all the peoples in a true and orderly liberty. That +is the position of the democracy of the United States of America +to-day. + +As in peace, so in war, the success of the democratic effort +depends upon the fullness of the cooperation between all classes +and conditions of men and women. Those men who are fit for military +service on land or sea must render it willingly and to the utmost +of their strength. Those who by reason of age or weakness cannot +undertake that service without danger of becoming a burden to the +fighting forces, must work to sustain the army and the fleet of +freedom. "If any man will not work neither let him eat." + +The women also must do their part, since they are citizens just as +much as the men. They must undertake those tasks of industry of +which they are capable and thus relieve the need of labor in all +fields. Above all they must give themselves to those tasks of mercy +for which they have a natural aptitude. And through all they must +give sympathy, inspiration, and courage to the men who fight for +Liberty and Democracy. + +[signed] Henry van Dyke + + + + + +Sunrise over the Peristyle + + + + +"Ye shall know the truth, and + the truth shall make you free." + + +Look! we shall know the truth--it is thy word; +The truth, O Lord--shining, invincible, +Unawed. And shall we love it, Lord, like this, +This half-dark flushing with the wondrous hope? +How can we love it more? + + Sweet is the hush +Brimming the dim void world, soothing the beat +Of the great-hearted lake that lies unlit +Beyond that silver portal. Peace is here +In moony palaces that rose for her +Pale, lustrous--it is well with her to dwell. +The truth--will not these phantom fabrics fail +Under the fierce white fire--yes, float away +Like mists that wanly rise and choke the wind? + +So merciless is truth--how shall we live +And bear the glare? Now rosily smiles the earth, +And bold young couriers climb the slope of heaven, +With gaudy flags aflare. The towered clouds, +Lofty, impregnable, are captured now-- +Their turrets flame with banners. Who abides +Under the smooth wide rim of the worn world +That the high heavens should hail him like a king-- +Even like a lover? If it be the Truth, +Ah, shall our souls wake with the triumph, Lord? +Shall we be free according to thy word, +Brave to yield all? + + Look! will it come like this-- +A vivid glory burning at the gate +Over the sudden verge of golden waves? +The tall white columns stand like seraphim +With high arms locked for song. The city lies +Pearled like the courts of heaven, waiting the tread +Of souls made wise with joy. Why should we fear? +The Truth--ah, let it come to test the dream; +Give us the Truth, O Lord, that in its light +The world may know thy will, and dare be free. + +[signed]Harriet Monroe + + + + + +Reminiscences of Booth + + + + +Few of the younger people of the present generation know, by personal +experience, how nobly and incomparably Edwin Booth enriched the +modern stage with his vivid portraitures of Shakespearean characters. +The tragic fervor, the startling passion, and the impressive dignity +with which he invested his various roles, have not been equaled, I +daresay, by any actor on the English speaking stage since the days +of Garrick and Kean. He had a voice that vibrated with every mood, +and a mien, despite his short stature, that gave a lofty dignity +to every part that he played. But Booth as himself was a simple, +modest, amiable human being. Many of us younger men came to know +him in a personal way, when he established in New York City the +Players' Club, which he dedicated to the dramatic profession, and +which is now a splendid and permanent monument to his fame and +generosity. + +I saw him frequently and had many chats with him. When I undertook +the management of E. H. Southern, he was very much interested +because he knew young Sothern's father, the original Lord Dundrery; +so, when Mr. Sothern appeared in the first play under my management, +"The Highest Bidder," I invited Mr. Booth to witness the performance. +He expressed his delight at seeing his old friend's son doing such +delightful work, and the three of us afterwards met at a little +supper at the Players'. He told us that he came nearly being the +Godfather of young Sothern, and that he was to have been called +"Edwin" after himself; but the reason why his name was changed to +"Edward," he explained, was as follows: When young Sothern was +born in New Orleans, the elder Sothern telegraphed Booth, asking +him to stand as Godfather to his boy, but Booth did not wish to +take the responsibility, doubtless for reasons of his own, and so +his name was changed to "Edward"; but he confessed that it was a +matter he greatly regretted. He told us many stories of his early +career as an actor, one of which I remember as a very amusing experience +on the part of the elder actor when on his way to Australia. Mr. +Booth had an engagement to play in that distant section, and with +five members, the nucleus of a company, started from San Francisco. +They had occasion to stop at Honolulu en route. The stop there +being longer than originally anticipated, and the news of his +arrival having spread, King Kamehameha sent a request that he give +a performance of "Richard III" in the local theater. In spite of +managerial difficulties, Booth (being then a young man, ardent and +ambitious) sought to give a semblance with the scanty material at +hand, of a fair performance. He had to secure the cooperation of +members of the local amateur company. The best he was enabled to +do for the part of Queen Elizabeth was an actor, short in stature, +defective in speech and accent, but earnest in temperament, whom +he cast for this eminent role. The other parts were filled as +best he could, and the principals with him enabled Mr. Booth to +give some semblance of a decent performance. In order to properly +advertise the event, he secured the assistance of several Hawaiians, +and furnished them with a paste made out of their native product +called "poi." He discovered later, to his amazement, that not +a bill had been posted, and that the "poi," being a valuable food +article, had been appropriated by the two individuals, who decamped. +Mr. Booth, with his colleagues, then personally posted the town +with the bills of the impending performance. On the evening the +house was crowded. The King occupied a seat in the wings, there +being no place for him in the hall. When the throne scene was to +be set for the play, word was sent to His Majesty humbly asking +the loan of the throne chair, which he then occupied, for use in +the scene--a favor which His Royal Highness readily granted. At +the end of the performance, word was brought to Booth that the King +wished to see him. Booth, shy and modest as he was, and feeling +that he could not speak the language, or that His Royal Highness +could not speak his, approached His Majesty timidly. The latter +stepped forward, slapped the actor heartily on the back and said: +"Booth, this is as fine a performance as I saw your father give +twenty years ago." + +The question as to whether an actor should feel his part or control +his emotions, has been an argument which has interested the dramatic +profession for many years, since it was first promulgated by the +French writer Diderot, and afterwards ably discussed by Henry Irving +and Coquelin. Of course, we all feel that no matter how violent +the actor's stress of emotion is, he must control his resources +with absolute restraint and poise. Sometimes, however, an actor +feels he is under the sway of his part in an unusual degree and +comes to the conviction, through his excitement, that he has given +a greater performance than usual. So Booth, one night at his own +theater, seeing his beloved daughter in a box, and desiring to +impress her with his work, played with, as he felt, a degree of +emotion that made him realize that he had given an unusually powerful +interpretation. At the end of the play, his daughter ran back to +him and said: "Why, dad, what is the matter with you?" And Booth, +awaiting her approval, said: "Matter?" "Why you gave the worst +performance I ever witnessed," she said. This control of one's +resources and the check upon one's feelings was indicated at another +time during a performance of Booth, of "Richelieu," as told to me +by the actor's friend, the late Laurence Hutton, the writer. Mr. +Hutton and Mr. Booth were sitting in the latter's dressing room at +Booth's Theater. Booth was, as usual, smoking his beloved pipe. +When he heard his cue, he arose, and walked with Hutton to the +prompter's entrance, where, giving his pipe to his friend, said: +"Larry, will you keep the pipe going until I come off?" Booth +entered on the scene; then came the big moment in the play when the +nobles and the weak King had assembled to defy the power of the +Cardinal; and Richelieu launches (as Booth always did with thrilling +effect) the terrifying curse of Rome--a superb bit of oratorical +eloquence. At the conclusion, the house shouted its wild and +demonstrative approval, and when the curtain dropped on this uproar +for the last time, Booth approached Hutton at the prompter's entrance +saying, in his usual quiet voice: "Is the pipe still going, Larry?" + +No actor we have ever known has inspired so much genuine affection--I +may say almost idolatry--as the simple Edwin Booth aroused in the +hearts of his friends and his fellow-workers. In the beautiful +Players' Club House, which he bequeathed to the dramatic profession, +he presented also his own valuable theatrical library, numbering +several thousand memorable works on the stage; and no one event +greater than this gift to his fellow-players has ever occurred in +the dramatic profession. + +[signed]Daniel Frohman + + + + + +God of My Faith + + + + +A Play for Pacifists in One Act + + +"If the God of my faith be a liar + Who is it that I shall trust?" + + +The People in the Play + +Nelson Dartrey + +Dermod Gilruth + + +The action passes in Dartrey's Chambers in the late Spring of +Nineteen Hundred and Fifteen. + +(The lowering of the Curtain momentarily will denote the passing +of several days.) + + + + + +God of My Faith + + + + +The curtain discloses a dark oak room + +NELSON DARTREY is seated at a writing table studying maps. He is +a man in the early thirties, prematurely worn and old. His face +is burned a deep brick color and is sharpened by fatigue and loss +of blood. His hair is sparse, dry and turning gray. Around the +upper part of his head is a bandage covered largely by a black +skull-cap. Of over average height the man is spare and muscular. +The eye is keen and penetrating: his voice abrupt and authoritative. +An occasional flash of humor brings an old-time twinkle to the one +and heartiness to the other. He is wearing the undress uniform of +a major in the British army. + +The door bell rings. + +With an impatient ejaculation he goes into the passage and opens +the outer door. Standing outside cheerfully humming a tune is a +large, forceful, breezy young man of twenty-eight. He is DERMOD +GILRUTH. Splendid in physique, charming of manner, his slightly-marked +Dublin accent lends a piquancy to his conversation. He has all +the ease and poise of a traveled, polished young man of breeding. +Dartrey's face brightens as he holds out a welcoming hand. + +DARTREY + +Hello, Gil. + +GILRUTH + +(Saluting him as he laughs genially) May I come into officers' +quarters? + +DARTREY + +I'm glad to have you. I'm quite alone with yours on my hands. (He +brings Gilruth into the room and wheels a comfortable leather arm +chair in front of him) Sit down. + +GILRUTH + +Indeed I will not. Look at your desk there. I'll not interrupt +your geography for more than a minute. + +DARTREY + +(Forces him into the chair) I'm glad to get away from it. Why, +you look positively boyish. + +GILRUTH + +And why not? I am a boy. (Chuckles) + +DARTREY + +What are you so pleased with yourself about? + +GILRUTH + +The greatest thing in the world for youth and high-spirits. I'm +going to be married next week. + +DARTREY + +(Incredulously) You're not? + +GILRUTH + +I tell you I am. + +DARTREY + +Don't be silly. + +GILRUTH + +What's silly about it? + +DARTREY + +Oh, I don't know. + +GILRUTH + +Of course you don't know. You've never tried it. + +DARTREY + +I should think not. + +GILRUTH + +Well, I'm going to and I want you to father me. Stand up beside +me and see me through. Will you? + +DARTREY + +If you want me to. + +GILRUTH + +Well, I do want you to. + +DARTREY + +All right. + +GILRUTH + +You don't mind now? + +DARTREY + +My dear chap. It's charming of you to think of me. + +GILRUTH + +I've known you longer than any one over here. And I like you +better. So there you are. + +DARTREY + +(Laughing) Poor old Dermod! Well, well! + +GILRUTH + +There's nothing to laugh at, or "well, well" about. + +DARTREY + +Do I know the---? + +GILRUTH + +(Shakes his head) She's never been over before. Everything will +be new to her. I tell you it's going to be wonderful. I've planned +out the most delightful trip through Ireland--she's Irish, too. + +DARTREY + +Is she? + +GILRUTH + +But, like me, born in America. She's crazy to see the old country. + +DARTREY + +She couldn't have a better guide. + +GILRUTH + +(Enthusiastically) She's beautiful, she's brilliant: she's +good--she's everything a man could wish. + +DARTREY + +That's the spirit. Will you make your home over here? + +GILRUTH + +No. We'll stay till the autumn. Then I must go back to America. +But some day when all this fighting is over and people talk +of something besides killing each other I want to have a home in +Ireland. + +DARTREY + +I suppose most of you Irishmen in America want to do that? + +GILRUTH + +Indeed they do not. Once they get out to America and do well they +stay there and become citizens. My father did. Do you think he'd +live in Ireland now? Not he. He talks all the time about Ireland +and the hated Sassenachs--that's what he calls you English--and +he urges the fellows at home in the old country to fight for their +rights. But since he made his fortune and became an American +citizen the devil a foot has he ever put on Irish soil. He's always +going, but he hasn't go there yet. And as for living there? Oh, +no, America is good enough for him, because his interests are +there. I want to live in Ireland because my heart is there. So +was my poor mother's. + +(Springing up) Now I'm off. You don't know how happy you make me +by promising to be my best man. + +DARTREY + +My dear fellow-- + +GILRUTH + +And just wait until you see her. Eyes you lose yourself in. A +voice soft as velvet. A brain so nimble that wit flows like music +from her tongue. Poetry too. She dances like thistledown and +sings like a thrush. And with all that she's in love with me. + +DARTREY + +I'm delighted. + +GILRUTH + +I want her to meet you first. A snug little dinner before the +wedding. She's heard so much against the English I want her to +see the best specimen they've got. + +(Dartrey laughs heartily) I tell you if you pass muster with her +you have the passport to Kingdom come. (Laughing as well as he +grips Dartrey's hand) Good-by. + +DARTREY + +(As they walk to the door) When will it be? + +GILRUTH + +Next Tuesday. I'll ring you up and give you the full particulars. + +DARTREY + +In church? + +GILRUTH + +Church! Cathedral! His Eminence will officiate. + +DARTREY + +Topping. + +GILRUTH + +Well, you see, we Irish only marry once. So we make an occasion +of it. + +DARTREY + +Splendid. I'll look forward to it. + +GILRUTH + +(Looking at the bandage) Is your head getting all right? + +DARTREY + +Oh, dear, yes. It's quite healed up. I'll have this thing off +in a day or two. (Touching the bandage) I expect to be back in +a few weeks. + +GILRUTH + +(Anxiously) Again? + +DARTREY + +Yes. + +GILRUTH + +If ever a man had done his share, you have. + +DARTREY + +They need me. They need us all. + +GILRUTH + +The third time. + +DARTREY + +There are many who have done the same. + +GILRUTH + +(Shudders) How long will it last? + +DARTREY + +Until the Hun is beaten. + +GILRUTH + +Years, eh? + +DARTREY + +It looks like it. We've hardly begun yet. It will take a year to +really get the ball rolling. Then things will happen. Tell me. +How do they feel in America? Frankly. + +GILRUTH + +All the people who matter are pro-Ally. + +DARTREY + +Are you sure? + +GILRUTH + +I'm positive. + +DARTREY + +Are you? Come, now. + +GILRUTH + +Why, of course I am. + +DARTREY + +They may be pro-Ally, but they're not pro-English. + +GILRUTH + +That's true. Many of them are not. But if ever the test comes, +they will be. + +DARTREY + +(Shakes his head doubtfully) I wonder. It seems a pity not to +bury all the Bunker-Hill and Boston-tea-chest prejudices. + +GILRUTH + +You're right there. + +DARTREY + +Why your boys and girls are taught in their school-books to hate +us. + +GILRUTH + +In places they are. Now that I know the English a little I have +been agitating to revisit them. It all seems so damned cheap and +petty for a big country to belittle a great nation through the +mouth of children. + +DARTREY + +There's no hatred like family hatred. After all we're cousins, +speaking the same tongue and with pretty much the same outlook. + +GILRUTH + +There's one race in America that holds back as strongly as it can +any better understanding between the two countries, and that's +my race--the Irish. And well I know it. I was brought up on it. +There are men to-day, men of position too, in our big cities who +have openly said they want to see England crushed in this war. + +DARTREY + +So I've heard. It would be a sorry day for the rest of civilization, +and particularly America, if we were. + +GILRUTH + +You can't convince them of that. They carry on the prejudices +and hatred of generations. I have accused some of them of being +actively pro-German; of tinkering with German money to foster +revolution in Ireland. + +DARTREY + +Do you believe that? + +GILRUTH + +I do. Thank God there are not many of them. I have accused them +of taking German money and then urging the poor unfortunate poets and +dreamers to do the revolting while they are safely three thousand +miles away. I don't know of many who are willing to cross the water +and do it themselves. Talking and writing seditious articles is +safe. Take my own father. He says frankly that he doesn't want +Germany to win because he hates Germans. Most Irishmen do. Besides +they've done my father some very dirty tricks. But all the same +he wants to see England lose. All the doubtful ones I know, who +don't dare come out in the open, speak highly of the French and are +silent when English is mentioned. I blame a great deal of that on +your Government. You take no pains to let the rest of the world +know what England is doing. You and I know that without the +British fleet America wouldn't rest as easy as she does to-day, and +without the little British army the Huns would have been in Paris +and Calais months ago. We know that, and so do many others. But +the great mass of people, particularly the Irish, cry all the time, +"What is England doing?" Your government should see to it that +they know what she's doing. + +DARTREY + +It's not headquarters' way. + +GILRUTH + +I know it isn't. And the more's the pity. Another thing where +you went all wrong. Why not have let Asquith clear up the Irish +muddle? Why truckle to a handful of disloyal North of Ireland +traitors? If the Government had court martialed the ring-leaders, +tried the rest for treason and put the Irish Government in Dublin, +why, man, three-quarters of the male population of the South of +Ireland would be in the trenches now. + +DARTREY + +Don't let us get into that. I was one of the officers who mutinied. +I would rather resign my commission than shoot down loyal subjects. + +GILRUTH + +(Hotly) Loyal? Loyal! When they refused to carry out their +Government's orders? When they deny justice to a long suffering +people? Loyal! Don't prostitute the word. + +DARTREY + +(Angrily) I don't want to--- + +GILRUTH + +(Going on vehemently) It's just that kind of pig-headed ignorance +that has kept the two countries from understanding each other. Why +shouldn't Ireland govern herself. South Africa does. Australia +does. And when you're in trouble they leap to your flag. Yet +there is a country a few miles from you that sends the best of her +people to your professions and they invariably get to the top of +them. Irishmen have commanded your armies and Ireland has given +you admirals for your fleet and at least one of us has been your +Lord Chief Justice. Yet, by God, they can't be trusted to govern +themselves. I tell you the English treatment of Ireland makes her +a laughing-stock of the world. + +DARTREY + +(Opens the door, then turns and looks straight at Gilruth) My head +bothers me. Will you kindly--- + +GILRUTH + +(All contrition) I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to blaze out. Do +forgive me like a good fellow. It's an old sore of mine and +sometimes it makes me wince. It did just now. Don't be mad with +me. + +(The sound of a boy's voice calling newspapers is heard faintly in +the distance; then the hoarse tones of a man shouting indistinctly; +then a chorus of men and boys comes nearer and nearer calling +of some calamity. Dartrey hurries out through the outer door. +Gilruth stands ashamed. He does not want to leave his friend in +bad blood. He would like to put things right before going. He +waits for Dartrey to come back. + +In a few minutes Dartrey walks through the outer doorway and into +the room. He is very white, very agitated and his face is set and +determined. He is reading a special edition of an evening paper +with great "scare" head lines. + +The sound of the voices crying the news in the street grows fainter +and fainter. + +Dartrey stops in front of Gilruth and tries to speak; nothing +coherent comes from his lips. He thrusts the paper into Gilruth's +hands and watches his face as he reads. + +Gilruth reads it once slowly, then rapidly. He stands immovable +staring at the news-sheet. It slips from his fingers and he cowers +down, stooping at the shoulders, glaring at the floor.) + +DARTRY + +(Almost frenzied) Now will your country come in? Now will they +fight for civilization? A hundred of her men, women and children +done to death. Is that war? Or is it murder? Already men are +reading in New York and Washington of the sinking of that ship and +the murder of their people. What are they going to do? What are +YOU going to do? + +GILRUTH + +(Creeps unsteadily to the door; standing himself with a hand on the +lock; his back is to the room. He speaks in a strange, far-off, +quavering voice) + +She was on the LUSITANIA! Mona. She was on it. Mona was on it. + +(Creeps out through the street door and disappears) + +(Dartrey looks after him) + +(The curtain falls and rises again in a few moments. Several days +have elapsed. Dartrey, in full uniform, is busily packing his +regimental kit. The bandage has been removed from his head. The +telephone bell rings. Dartrey answers it) + +DARTREY + +Yes. Yes. Who is it? Oh! Do. Yes. No. Not at all. Come up. +All right. + +(Replaces the receiver and continues packing) + +(In a few moments the door-bell rings. Dartrey opens the outer +door and brings Gilruth into the room. He is in deep mourning; is +very white and broken. He seems grievously ill. Dartrey looks at +him commiseratingly. He is sensitive about speaking) + +GILRUTH + +(Faintly) Put up with me for a bit? Will you? + +(Dartrey just puts his hand on the man's shoulder) + +(Gilruth sinks wearily and lifelessly into a chair) + +She is buried. + +DARTREY + +What? + +GILRUTH + +(Nods) She is buried. In Kensal Green. Half an hour ago. + +DARTREY + +(In a whisper) They found her? + +GILRUTH + +(Nods again) Picked up by some fishermen. + +DARTREY + +Queenstown? + +GILRUTH + +A few miles outside. I went there that night and stayed there +until--until she--they found her. + +(Covers his face. Dartrey puts his arm around him and presses his +shoulder) + +I wandered round there for days. Wasn't so bad while it was light. +People to talk to. All of us on the same errand. Searching. +Searching. Hoping--some of them. I didn't. I knew from the first. +I KNEW. It was horrible at night alone. I had to try and sleep +sometimes. They'd wake me when the bodies were brought in. Hers +came toward dawn one morning. Three little babies, all twined in +each others arms, lying next to her. Three little babies. Cruel +that. Wasn't it? + +(Waits as he thinks; then he goes on dully; evenly, with no emotion) + +Fancy! She'd been out in the water for days and nights. All alone. +Tossed about. Days and nights. She! who'd never hurt a soul. +Couldn't. She was always laughing and happy. Drifting about. All +alone. Quite peaceful she looked. Except--except-- + +(Covers his eyes and groans. In a little while he looks up at +Dartrey and touches his left eye) + +This. Gone. Gulls. + +(Dartrey draws his breath in sharply and turns a little away) + +In a few hours the cuts opened. The salt-water had kept them +closed. + +DARTREY + +Cuts? + +GILRUTH + +(Nods) Her head. And her face. Cuts. Blood after all that time. + +(He clenches and unclenches his hands nervously and furiously. He +gets up slowly, walks over to the fireplace, shivers, then braces +himself trying to shake off the horror of his thoughts. Then he +begins to speak brokenly and tremblingly endeavoring to moisten +his lips with a dry tongue) + +Never saw anything to equal the kindness of those poor peasants. +They gave the clothes from their bodies; the blankets from their +beds. And took nothing. Not a thing. "We're all in this," they +said. "We're doing our best. It's little enough." That's what +they sayd. Pretty find the Irish of Queenstown. Eh? + +(Dartrey nods. He does not trust himself to speak) + +A monument. That's what the Irish peasants of Queenstown should +have. A monument. Never slept, some of them. Wrapped the soaking +woman in their shawls--and the little children. Took off their +wet things and gave them dry, warm ones. Fed them with broths they +cooked themselves. Spent their poor savings on brandy for them. +Stripped the clothes off their own backs for them to travel in when +they were well enough to go. And wouldn't take a thing. Great +people the Irish of Queenstown. Nothing much the matter with them. +A monument. That's what they should have. And poetry. + +(Thinks for a while, then goes on) + +Laid out the bodies too; just as reverently as if they were their +own people. They laid her out. And prayed over her. And watched +with me over her until she was put into the--. Such a tiny shell +it was, too. She had no father or mother or brother or sisters. +I was all she had. That's why I buried her here. Kensal Green. +She'll rest easy there. + +(He walks about distractedly. Suddenly he stops and with his hands +extended upwards as if in prayer, he cries) + +Out of my depths I cry to Thee. I call on you to curse them. +Curse the Prussian brutes made in Your likeness, but with hearts +as the lowest of beasts. Curse them. May their hopes wither. May +everything they set their hearts on rot. Send them pestilence, +disease and every foul torture they have visited on Your people. +Send the Angel of Death to rid the earth of them. May their souls +burn in hell for all eternity. + +(Quickly to Dartrey) + +and if there is a god they will. But is there a good God that such +things can be and yet no sign from Him? Listen. I didn't believe +in war. I reasoned against it. I shouted for Peace. And thousands of +cravens like me. I thought God was using this universal slaughter +for a purpose. When His end was accomplished He would cry to +the warring peoples "Stop!" It was His will, I thought, that out +of much evil might come permanent good. That was my faith. It +has gone. How can there be a good God to look down on His people +tortured and maimed and butchered? The women whose lives were devoted +to Him, defiled. His temples looted, filled with the filth of the +soldiery, and then destroyed. And yet no sign. Oh, no. My faith +is gone. Now I want to murder and torture and massacre the foul +brutes.... I'm going out, Dartrey. In any way. Just a private. +I'll dig, carry my load, eat their rations. Vermin: mud: ache +in the cold and scorch in the heat. I will welcome it. Anything +to stop the gnawing here, and the throbbing here. + +(Beating at his head and heart) + +Anything to find vent for my hatred. + +(Moving restlessly about) + +I'm going through Ireland first. Every town and village. It's +our work now. It's Irishmen's work. All the Catholics will be in +now. No more "conscientious-objecting." They can't. It's a war +on women and little children. All right. No Irish-Catholic will +rest easy; eat, sleep and go his days round after this. The call +has gone out. America too. She'll come in. You watch. She can't +stay out. She's founded on Liberty. She'll fight for it. You +see. It's clean against unclean. Red blood against black filth. +Carrion. Beasts. Swine. + +(Drops into a chair mumbling incoherently. Takes a long breath; +looks at Dartrey) + +I'm selling out everything back home. + +DARTREY + +Why? + +GILRUTH + +I'm not going back. I'm bringing everything over here. England, +France, Russia, Belgium, Serbia--they can have it. All of it. +They've suffered. Only now do I know how much. Only now. + +(Fiercely) I want to tear them--tear them as they've torn me. As +they mangled her. + +(Grits his teeth and claws with his fingers) Tear them--that's +what I want to do. May I live to do it. May the war never end +until every dirty Prussian is rotting in his grave. Then a quick +end for me, too. I've nothing now. Nothing. + +(Gets up again wearily and dejectedly; all the blazing passion +burnt out momentarily) + +This was to have been my wedding-day; our wedding-day. Now she's +lying there, done to death by Huns. A few days ago all youth and +freshness and courage and love. Lying disfigured in her little coffin. +I know what you meant now by wanting to go back for a third time. +I couldn't understand it the other day. It seemed that every one +should hate war. But you've seen them. You know them. And you +want to destroy them. That's it. Destroy.... The call is all +over the world by now. Civilization will be in arms.... To hell +with your Pacifists. It's another name for cowards. They'd lose +those nearest them: the honor of their women; the liberty of their +people--and never strike a blow. To hell with them. It's where +they should be. I was one of them. No more. Wherever I meet them +I'll spit in their faces. They disgrace the women they were born +of; the country they claim.... To hell with them. + +DARTREY + +(Tries to soothe him) You must try and get some grip on yourself. + +GILRUTH + +(His fingers ceaselessly locking and unlocking) I'll be all right. +It's a relief to talk to you. (Sees the preparations for Dartrey's +departure) Are you off? + +DARTREY + +Yes. To-night. + +GILRUTH + +I envy you now. I wish I were going. But I will soon. Ireland +first. I must have my say there. What will the "Sinn Feiners" +say to the LUSITANIA murder? I want to meet some of them. What +are our wrongs of generations to this horror? All humanity is at +stake here. I'll talk to them. I must. They'll have to do something +now or go down branded through the generations as Pro-German. Can +a man have a worse epitaph? No decent Irishman will bear that; +every loyal Irishman must loathe them.... I'll talk to them--soul +to soul.... Sorry, Dartrey. You have your own sorrow.... Good +of you to put up with me. Now I'll go.... + +(Goes to the door, stops, takes out wallet) + +Just one thing. If it won't bother you. + +(Tapping some papers) + +I've mentioned you here.... If I don't come through--see to a few +things for me. Will you? They're not much. Will you? + +DARTREY + +Of course I will. + +GILRUTH + +(Simply) Thank you. You've always been decent to me.... Dartrey. +To-day! You would have been my best man--and she's-- + +DARTREY + +(Shaking him by the shoulders) Come, my man. Pull up. + +GILRUTH + +I will. I'll be all right. In a little while I'll be along out +there. I hope I server under you. (Grips his hand) Good-by. + +DARTREY + +Keep in touch with me. + +GILRUTH + +All right. + +(Passes out, opens and closes the outer door behind him and disappears +in the street. Dartrey resumes his preparations) + + +The End of the Play + +[signed]J. Hartley Manners + + + + + +To France + + + + +For the third time in history it has fallen to the lot of France to +stem the Barbarian tide. Once before upon the Marne, Aetius with +a Gallic Army stopped the Hun under Attila. Three hundred years +later Charles Martel at Tours saved Europe from becoming Saracen, +just as in September, 1914, more than eleven centuries later, +General Joffre with the citizen soldiery of France upon that same +Marne saved Europe from the heel of the Prussianized Teuton, the +reign of brute force and the religion of the Moloch State. These +were among the world's "check battles." Yet the flood of barbarism +was only checked at the Marne, not broken; again the flood arose +and pressed on to be stopped once more at Verdun--the Gateway of +France--in the greatest of human conflicts yet seen. + +America was a spectator, but not an indifferent one. Once again +mere momentary material interest counseled abstention; precedent +was invoked to justify isolation and indifference. The timid, +the ignorant, the disloyal, those to whom physical life was more +precious than the dictates of conscience, counseled "peace and +prosperity." Many began to wonder if America had a soul and was +indeed worth saving as the policy of "Terrorism" on land followed +that of "Terrorism" on the high seas seemed to leave us indifferent. +Yet the same spirit, as of yore, dominated the nation. The people +of America at last understood that it was not any particular rule +of law, but the existence of law itself, divine and human, that +was involved in the Fate of France. + +The task confronting this nation is a stupendous one. Let there +be no illusion. The war may well be long and painful, beyond +expression, but the past few weeks have taught us that the nation +will bear the strain with that same courage and enduring perseverance +as in the past, following the example of the Fathers and inspired by +the traditions of the American Revolution, this people will stand +like a stone wall with our splendid Ally of old and of to-day--France--and +from Great Britain from whence came our institutions, to end forever +the Hohenzollern system of blood and iron so that a better future +may come to Europe and America, one in which peace may be builded upon +a guaranty of justice and law--a world order in which fundamental +moral postulates and human rights may never again be set at defiance at +the behest of mere material force, however scientifically organized. + +To France has fallen the honor of checking, to Britain the burden +of containing by sea and land, to America now comes the duty of +finally overthrowing that common enemy of democratic institutions +and ordered liberty, the foe whose morality knows no truth, whose +philosophy admits no check upon the "will to power." + +In France the traveler passing along the roads to the northeast +leading to Lorraine may see at every cross-road a great index +finger pointing to the single word VERDUN. To many thousands, +nay, hundreds of thousands of men passing over these roads in the +five fateful months of critical battle, these six letters spelled +mutilation and death, yet the word was an inspiration to heroism +in every home of France, and from every corner of the land men +followed that great index finger pointing, as it did indeed, to +the modern Calvary. + +To-day at every cross-road must we here in America set up a great +index hand with the words "TO FRANCE." To France, land of suffering +humanity, in whose devastated fields again must be saved the same +principles for which Americans fought at Bunker Hill, at Saratoga, +at Yorktown, at Gettysburg and in the Wilderness; to France, where +the fate of the world is still pending; to France, which has again +checked the Huns of the modern world as it did those of the ancient; +to France, the manhood of this nation must now be directed, to +save the heritage of the American Revolution and the Civil War, to +preserve the dearest conquests of the Christian civilization; to +France will our men go by the thousands, hundreds of thousands, if +need be by the million, to prove that the soul of America is more +completely intent upon battling for the right than ever before, +intent that slavery in another but far subtler and more dangerous +form may not prevail upon the earth. + +It was Washington who gave as the watchword of the day in those +soul-trying hours that preceded the birth of our nation the immortal +and prophetic phrase, "America and France--United Forever." + +[signed]Frederick Coudert THE END. + + + + + +Ce Que Disent Nos Morts + + + + +Il n'est pas besoin de rappeler le souvenir de ceux qui nous furent +chers et ne sont plus, à notre peuple qui passe, non sans raison, +pour célébrer avec ferveur le culte des morts. N'est-ce pas +en France, au dix-neuvième siècle, qu'est née cette philosophie +qui met au rang des premiers devoirs de l'homme la reconnaissance +envers les générations qui nous ont précédés dans la tombe, en nous +laissant le fruit de leurs pensées et de leurs travaux? Certes la +religion des ancêtres est de tous les temps et de tous les climats; +elle est même chez certains peuples orientaux la religion unique; +mais en quel pas les liens entre les morts et les vivants sont-ils +plus forts qu'en France, les deuils plus solennels à la fois et plus +intimes? Chez nous, d'ordinaire, les defunts aimés et vénérés ne +quittent pas tout entiers le foyer où ils vécu; ils y respirent +dans le coeur de ceux qui demeurent; ils y sont imités, consultés, +écoutés. + +Je me rappelle trop confusément pour en faire usage ici une scène +très belle d'une vieille chanson de geste, GIRART DE ROUSILLON, +je crois, où l'on voit une fille de roi contempler, la nuit, après +une bataille, la plaine où gisent les guerriers innombrables tomber +pour sa querelle. "Elle eut voulu, dit le poète, les embrasser +tous." Et, du fond de mes très lointains souvenirs, cette royale +fille m'apparait comme une image de notre France pleurant aujourd'hui +la fleur de sa race abondamment moissonnée. + +Aussi n'est-ce pas pour exhorter mes concitoyens à commemorer en ce +jour nos morts selon un usage immémorial, que j'écris ces lignes, +mais pour honorer avec notre peuple tout entier ceux qui lui ont +sacrifié leur vie at pour mediter la leçon qu'ils nous donnent du +fond de leur demeures profondes. + +Et tout d'abord, à la mémoire des notres, associons pieusement la +mémoire des braves qui ont versé leur sang sous tous les étendards +de l'Alliance, depuis les canaux de l'Yser jusqu'aux rives de la +Vistule, depuis les montagnes du Frioul jusqu'aux défiles de la +Morava, et sur les vastes mers. + +Puis, offrons les fleurs les plus nobles palmes aux innocentes +victimes d'une atroce cruauté, aux femmes, aux enfants martyrs, à +cette jeune infirmière anglaise, coupable seulement de générosité +et dont l'assassinat a soulevé d'indignation tout l'univers. + +Et nos morts, nos morts bien aimés! Que la patrie reconnaissante +ouvre assez grand son coeur pour les contenir tous, les plus humbles +comme les plus illustrés, les héros tombés avec gloire à qui l'on +prepare des monuments de marbre et de bronze et qui vivront dans +l'histoire, et les simples qui rendirent leur dernier souffle en +pensant au champ paternel. + +Que tous ceux dont le sang coula pour la patrie soient bénis! +Ils n'ont pas fait en vain le sacrifice de leur vie. Glorieusement +frappés en Artois, en Champagne, en Argonne, ils ont arrêté l'envahisseur +qui n'a pu faire un pas de plus en avant sur la terre sacrée qui +les recouvre. Quelques-uns les pleurent, tous les admirent, plus +d'un les envie. Ecoutons les. Tendons l'oreille: ils parlent. +Penchons-nous sur cette terre bouleversée par la mitraille où +beaucoup d'entre eux dorment dans leurs vêtements ensanglantés. +Agenouillons-nous dans le cimetière, au bords des tombes fleuries +de ceux qui sont revenus dans le doux pays, et là, entendons le +souffle imperceptible et puissant qu'ils mêlent, la nuit, au murmure +du vent et au bruissement des feuilles qui tombent. Efforçons-nous +de comprendre leur parole sainte. Ils disent: + +FRERES, vivez, combattez, achevez notre ouvrage. Apportez la victoire +et la paix à nos ombres consolées. Chassez l'étranger qui a deja +reculé devant nous, et ramenez vos charrues dans les champs qui +nous avons imbibés de notre sang. + +Ainsi parlent nos morts. Et ils disent encore: + +FRANÇAIS, aimez-vous les uns les autres d'un amour fraternal et, +pour prevaloir contre l'ennemi, mettez en commun vos biens et vos +pensées. Que parmi vous les plus grands et les plus forts soient +les serviteurs des faibles. Ne marchandez pas plus vos richesses +que votre sang à la patrie. Soyez tous égaux par la bonne volonté. +Vous le devez à vos morts. + +VOUS nous devez d'assurer, à notre exemple, par le sacrifice de +vous-mêmes, le triomphe de la plus sainte des causes. Frères, pour +payer votre dette envers nous, il vous faut vaincre, et il vous +faut faire plus encore: il vois faut mériter de vaincre. + +Nos morts nous ordonnent de vivre et de combattre en citoyens d'un +peuple libre, de marcher résolument dans l'ouragan de fer vers la +paix qui se levera comme une belle aurore sur l'Europe affranchie +des menaces de ses tyrans, et verra renaître, faibles et timides +encore, la JUSTICE et L'HUMANITE étouffées par le crime de l'Allemagne. + +Voila ce qu'inspirent nos morts à un Français que le détachement +des vanités et le progrès de l'age rapprochent d'eux. + +[signed]Anatole France + + + + + +What our Dead Say to Us + + + + +There is no need to recall to the minds of our people those who +were dear to us and have passed hence, for they are celebrating--and +with good cause--the anniversaries of their deaths. Was it not in +France, in the 19th century, that there was born that philosophy +which placed in the rank of the foremost duties of mankind gratitude +towards those generations who have preceded us to the grave, and +have left us the fruits of their thoughts and of their labors? +Indeed, ancestral worship prevails in all climes and at all periods; +in fact, with certain Oriental nations it is the only religion. +But in what country is the link between the dead and the living +so strong as it is in France--the rites at the same time so solemn +and so intimate? With us, as a rule, our dead, beloved and venerated, +never entirely depart from the homes in which they have dwelt, but +take up their abode in the hearts of the living who imitate them, +consult them, pay heed to them. + +I recollect, too vaguely to make full use of it here, a beautiful +scene from the heroic song, "Girart de Roussillon," I think it +is, where one is shown a king's daughter, one night after a battle +gazing across the battlefield where lay the innumerable warriors +who had fallen in the fight. "She felt a desire," said the poet, +"to embrace them all." And from the depths of my far-away memories +this apparition of the daughter of a royal house arises before me +as an image of our France to-day, weeping for the flower of our +race so abundantly cut down. + +My object in writing these lines is not to exhort my fellow-citizens +to commemorate to-day our noble dead, according to immemorial +custom, but to honor as a united people those who have sacrificed +their lives for their country and to meditate upon the lesson that +comes to us from their scattered burial places. + +First, with the memory of our own, let us with all piety associate +the memory of those brave ones who have shed their blood under all +the Allies' standards, from the streams of the Yser to the banks +of the Vistule; from the mountains of Frioul to the defiles of +Morava, and on the vast seas. + +Then, let us offer our choicest flowers of memory to the innocent +victims of an atrocious cruelty, to the women, the child martyrs, +to that young English nurse, guilty only of generosity, whose +assassination aroused the indignation of the entire universe. + +And our dead, our beloved dead! May a grateful country open wide +enough its great heart to contain them all, the humblest as well +as the most illustrious, the heroes fallen with glory to whom +have been erected monuments of bronze and marble, who will live in +history, and those simple ones who drew their last breath thinking +of the green fields of home. + +Blessed be all those whose blood has been shed for their country! +Not in vain have they sacrificed their lives. At the glorious +encounter at Artois, Champagne, and Argonne they repulsed the +invader who could not advance one step farther on the ground made +sacred by their fallen bodies. Some weep for them, all admire them, +more than one envies them. Let us listen to them. They speak. +Let us make every effort to hear them. Let us prostrate ourselves +on this ground, torn up by shot and shell, where many of them sleep +in their blood-dyed garments. Let us kneel in the cemetery at the +foot of the flower-strewn graves of those who were brought back to +their country, and there listen to the whispers, scarcely audible +but powerful, which mingle through the night with the murmur of +the breeze and the rustle of the falling leaves. Let us make every +effort to understand their inspired words. They say: + +BROTHERS, live, fight, accomplish our work. Win victory and peace +for the sake of your dead. Drive out the intruder who has already +retreated before us, and bring back your plows into the fields now +saturated with our blood. + +Thus speak our dead. And they say, further: + +FRENCHMEN, love one another with brotherly love, and, in order +that you may prevail against the enemy, put into common use your +possessions and your ideas. Let the greatest and strongest among +you serve the weak. Be as willing to give your money as your blood +for your country. Be willing that perfect equality shall exist +amongst you. You owe this to your dead. Because of our example, +you owe us the assurance that by your self-sacrifice ours will be +the triumph in this holiest of all causes. Brothers, in order to +pay your debt to us you must conquer, and you must do still more: +you must deserve to conquer. + +Our dead demand that we shall live and fight as citizens of a free +country; that we shall march resolutely through the hurricane of +steel toward Peace, which shall arise like a beautiful aurora over +Europe freed from the menace of her tyrants, and shall see reborn, +though weak and timid, Justice and Humanity, for the time being +crushed through the crime of Germany. + +Thus are the French, detached from the vanities and progress of +the age, drawn nearer to our dead and inspired by them. + +Anatole France Translation by E. M. Pope. + + + + + +The Transports + + + + +Poetical version of Sully Prud'homme's "Les Berceaux" + + +The long tide lifts each might boat Asleep and nodding on the dock, +Of the little cradles they take no note Which the tender-hearted +mothers rock. + +But time brings round the Day of Good-Byes For it's women's fate +to weep and endure, While curious men attempt the skies And follow +wherever horizons lure. + +Yet the mighty boats on that morning tide When they flee away +from the dwindling lands Will feel the clutch of mother hands And +the soul of the far-off cradleside. + +[signed]Robert Hughes + + + + + +La Prière Du Poilu + + + + +(Written in the Trenches, before Verdun, December, 1915) + + +Et alors, le poilu, levant la tête derrière son parapet, se mit, +dans la nuit froide de décembre, à fixer une étoile qui brillait au +ciel d'un feu étrange. Son cerveau commença à remeur de lointaines +pensées; son coeur se fit plus léger, comme s'il voulait monter +vers l'astre; ses lèvres frémirent doucement pour laisser passer +une prière: + +"O Etoile, murmura-t-il, je n'ai pas besoin de ta lueur, car je +connais ma route! Elle a pu me paraitre sombre au début, quand mes +yeux n'étaient point accoutumés à ses rudes contours; mais, depuis +un an, elle est pour moi éblouissante de clarté. On a beau me +l'allonger chaque jour, on n'arrivera pas à me l'obscurcir. On a +beau y multiplier les ronces et les pierres, après lesquelles je +laisse de ma chair et de mon sang, on n'arrivera pas à m'y arrêter. +Je sais que j'irai jusqu'au bout. Je vois devant moi la victoire.... +Mais, là-bas, derrière moi, il y a une foule qui parfois s'inquiète +dans les ténèbres. Au moment où la vieille anné va tourner sur ses +gonds vermoulus, elle repasse en son esprit agité les évènements +qui la marquèrent. Elle songe aux peuplades barbares d'Orient que +le Germain a entraînées derrière son char: Turcs et Bulgares, Kurdes +et Malissores, et elle oublie les grandes nations qui s'enrôlèrent +sous la bannière de la civilisation. Elle songe aux territoires +que foule la lorde botte tudesque, et elle oublie les empires que +nous détenons en gages: ici, l'ouest et l'est Africains, grands +comme quatre fois toute l'Allemagne, avec leurs 5000 kilomètres de +voies ferrées et leurs mines de diamants; là, ces îles d'Océanie et +cette forteresse d'Asie: Kiao-Tchéou, que le kaiser avait proclamé +la perle de ses colonies. Elle s'alarme de toutes les pailles que, +dans sa course désordonnée, ramasse l'Allemagne et ne voit pas les +poutres énormes qui soutiennent la France.... Nous autres, qui +sommes la poutre, nous savons mieux, nous voyons mieux. + +"O Etoile, apprends à ceux qui ne sont pas dans la tranchée la +confiance!... + +"Le passé est là qui enseigne l'avenir. Chaque fois qu'une armée +quelconque, prise de la folie de l'espace, a voulu s'enfoncer dans +les terres lointaines et abandonner le berceau où elle puisait sa +force et ses vivres, elle est morte de langueur et d'épuisement, +elle s'est éffritée comme la pierre qu'on arrache de l'assemblage +solide des maisons, elle n'est pas plus revenue que ne reviennent +les grains de poussière qu'emporte le vent.... Voici plus d'un +siècle que des légions ont tenté la conquète de l'Egypte et ces +légions étaient les plus magnifiques du monde. Elles avaient des +chefs qui s'appelaient Desaix, Kléber et Bonaparte; mais elles +n'avaient pas la maitrise de la mer et rien ne revint des sables +brulants du désert. Voici un siècle aussi qu'une armée la plus +formidable d'Europe, conduite par le plus fameux conquérant qu'ait +connu l'univers, tenta de submerger l'immense empire russe; mais +l'empire était trop grand pour la grande armée et rien ne revint +des solitudes glacées de la steppe.... Puisse, de même, aller +loin, toujours plus loin, l'armée allemande déjà décimée, haletante, +épuisée! Puisse-t-elle pousser jusqu'au Tigre, jusqu'à l'Euphrate, +jusqu'à l'Inde!... + +"O Etoile, apprends à ceux qui ne sont pas dans la tranchée, +l'Histoire!... + +"Certes ces nuits d'hiver sont longues. Et tous tes scintillements, +Etoile, ne valent pas le sourire de la femme aimée au logis. +Cependant, tu as quelque chose de la femme, puisque tant d'hommes +te suivent aveuglément: tu en as la grâce et l'éclat; et toi, au +moins, nul couturier boche ne t'habilla jamais!... Tu possèdes +même des vertus que ne possède pas toujours la femme: tu as la +patience et le calme. Les nuages ont beau s'interposer entre tes +adorateurs et toi, l'aurore a beau chaque matin éteindre tes feux, +tu t'inclines devant la loi suprême de la nature et nulle révolte +ne vint jamais de toi.... Tâche d'inspirer ta soumission à tes +soeurs terrestres qui, dans les villes, attendent le retour des +guerriers. + +"O Etoile, apprends à celles qui ne sont pas dans les tranchées, +la Discipline!... + +"Que tous, que toutes sachent qu'il y a quelque chose au-dessus +du Nombre, au-dessus de la Force, au-dessus même du Courage: et +c'est la Persévérance.... Il y eut, une fois, un match de lutte +qui restera à jamais célèbre dans l'histoire du sport: celui de +Sam Mac Vea contre Joe Jeannette. Le premier, trapu, massif, tout +en muscles: un colosse noir du plus beau noir. Le second, plus +léger, plus harmonieux, tout en nerfs: un métis jaune du plus beau +cuivre. Le combat fut épique: il se poursuivit pendant quarantedeux +rounds et dura trois heures. Au troisième round, puis au septième, +Sam Mac Vea jetait Joe Jeannette à terre et sa victoire ne paraissait +plus faire de doute. Cependant, Joe Jeannette peu à peu revint à +la vie, se cramponna, se défendit, vécut sur ses nerfs, puis attaqua +à son tour. Au quarante-deuxième round, épaule contre épaule, +haletants, ruisselants de sang, ils se portaient les derniers coups; +mais le ressort de Sam Mac Vea était cassé et, devant l'assurance +de son adversaire, il se sentit vaincu... Alors on vit le grand +géant noir lever les bras et s'écrouler en disant: I GUESS I CAN +NOT.... (Je crois que je ne peux pas...) Ainsi, bientôt peut-être, +verrons-nous s'écrouler l'Allemagne, en avouant: "Je ne peux +pas...." + +"O Etoile, apprends à ceux qui ne sont pas dans la tranchée, la +Boxe!..." + +[signed]Stéphane Lauzanne + + + + + +The Prayer of "Le Poilu" + + + + +Then "Le Poilu" standing, in the cold December night, behind +the breastworks, fixed his gaze upon a star that was shining with +a strange brilliance in the sky above. His mind was stirred with +thoughts of far away things. His heart grew lighter, as though it +yearned to reach the star; his lips trembled, and softly he breathed +a prayer. + +"O Star," he murmured, "I need not thy glimmering light, for I +know my way. The road may have appeared dark at first when my eyes +were unaccustomed to its sharp turns, but for a year it has been +divinely illumined for me. Even if it grew longer each day, it will +never seem dark again. Although torn by thorns and cut by stones, +nothing can make me turn back. I know that I shall go on, steadfast +to the end. I behold before me Victory.... But there,--behind +me, is a multitude sorely troubled in the darkness. + +"Now, as the old year revolves on its rusty hinges, those who wait +at home live over in their troubled hearts the events which marked +its passing. They think of the barbarous hordes of the Orient +which the German has caught in his train; Turks and Bulgarians, +Kurds and Malissores, and they overlook the great nations enrolled +under the banner of civilization. They brood over lands ground +under the iron heel of the Teuton and overlook the Empires that we +hold; here, West and East Africa, four times as large as all Germany, +with their thousands of miles of railroads and their diamond mines; +there, the Islands of Oceania and the fortress of Asia: Kiao-Tcheou, +which the Kaiser has proclaimed the pearl of his colonies. They +are alarmed at the chaff that Germany gathers in her lawless course +and they do not see the mighty girders that stay France. But we +who are the girders, we know better, we see farther. + +"O Star, teach those who are not in the trenches.... Confidence! + +"By the light of the past we behold the future. Whenever an army, +seized with the frenzy of conquest, has forced its way into a far +land, abandoning the cradle whence it drew its life and strength, +it has wasted away, it has perished from utter exhaustion. Like +stones loosened from a solid wall, it has disintegrated. Like the +grain of dust which the wind has blow away, it has vanished never +to return. + +"More than a century ago legions attempted the conquest of Egypt. +They were the most magnificent in the world. Their chiefs bore +the names of Desaix, Kleber and Bonaparte. But they had not the +mastery of the seas, and returned not from the burning sands of the +desert.... Think also of the time when the most formidable army +of Europe, led by the greatest conqueror the world has ever known, +tried to overwhelm the vast Russian Empire. But the empire was +mightier than the Great Army, and it returned not from the glacial +solitude of the steppes.... So let it go far, ever farther on, +that German army already decimated, panting, exhausted; let it +reach the Tigris, the Euphrates, even far off India! It will not +return. + +"O Star, teach those who are not in the trenches.... History! + +"Truly the winter nights are long, and all the rays, O Star, are +not worth the smile of the loved woman at the hearth. And yet, +thou hast something of woman, since so many men follow thee blindly: +thou hast her grace and splendor. [No German couturier will ever +clothe you!] Thou hast even virtues that women do not possess, +for thou art patient and calm. Clouds come between thy worshipers +and thee, dawn each morning extinguishes thy light, yet dost thou +bow before the supreme law of nature without a murmur. I pray +thee inspire with submission thy sisters of the earth; teach them +calmly and patiently to await the return of their warriors. + +"O Star, teach those who are not in the trenches.... Discipline! + +"Would that all men, that all women might know that there is +something above Numbers, above Force, above even Courage, and that +is PERSEVERANCE! A few years ago there was a boxing match between +Sam Mac Vea and Joe Jeannette that will remain famous in the history +of the sport. Mac Vea was a heavy weight, strong, all muscle: a +veritable black giant. Joe Jeannette, light, well proportioned, +all nerve: a mongrel of the best sort. The match was epic. It +went on for forty-two rounds and lasted three hours. At the third +round, and again in the seventh, Sam Mac Vea threw Joe Jeannette, +and his victory seemed assured. But little by little Joe Jeannette +revived, pulled himself together, defended himself, and through +sheer nerve, began to attack. At the forty-second round, shoulder +to shoulder, panting, dripping wet and covered with blood they +struck the last blow. The resources of Sam Mac Vea were exhausted, +and through the very assurance of his adversary he felt himself +beaten.... Suddenly the great giant lifted his arms and gave way, +saying: 'I guess I cannot.'... + +"Thus shall we soon see Germany fall to the earth, saying brokenly, +'I cannot.'... + +"O Star, teach those who are not in the trenches...to be game!" + +Stéphane Lauzanne + +Translation by Madame Carlo Polifème. + + + + +A Tribute to England + + + + +It may be said of this war, as the master mind of all the ages said +of adversity, that "its uses are sweet," even though they be as a +precious jewel shining in the head of an ugly and venomous toad. +While the world-war has brutalized men, it has as a moral paradox +added immeasurably to the sum of human nobility. Its epic grandeur +is only beginning to reveal itself, and in it the human soul has +reached the high water marker of courage and honor. + +The war has enriched our language with many new expressions, but +none more beautiful than that of "Somewhere in France." To all noble +minds, while it sounds the abysmal depths of tragic suffering, it +rises to the sublimest heights of heroic self-sacrifice. + +The world has paid its tribute to the immortal valor of France, +and no words could pay the debt of appreciation which civilization +owes to this heroic nation; but has there been due recognition of +the equal valor and the like spirit of self-sacrifice which has +characterized Great Britain in this titanic struggle? + +When the frontier of Belgium was crossed, England staked the existence +of its great empire upon the issue of the uncertain struggle. It +had, as figures go in this war, only a small army. If it had been +niggardly in its effort to defend Belgium, and save France in her +hour of supreme peril, England might have said, without violating +any express obligation arising under the ENTENTE CORDIALE, that +in giving its incomparable fleet it had rendered all the service +that its political interests, according to former standards of +expediency, justified; and it could have been plausibly suggested +that the ordinary considerations of prudence and the instinct of +self-preservation required it, in the face of the deadly assault +by the greatest military power in the world, to reserve its little +army for the defense of its own soil. England never hesitated, when +the Belgian frontier was crossed, but moved with such extraordinary +speed that within four days after its declaration of war its +standing army was crossing the channel, and within a fortnight it +had landed upon French soil the two army corps which constituted +the backbone of her military power. + +What follows will be remembered with admiration and gratitude +by the English speaking races as long as they endure, for nothing +in the history of that race is finer than the way in which the so +called "contemptible little British Army," as the Kaiser somewhat +prematurely called it--outnumbered four to one, and with an even +greater disproportion in artillery--withstood the powerful legions +of Von Kluck at Mons. Enveloped on both flanks they stood as a +stone wall for three days against an assault of one of the mightiest +armies in recorded history, and only retreated when ordered to do +so by the high command of the Allied forces in order to conform to +its strategic plans. The English were not defeated at Mons. It +was a victory, both in a technical and moral sense. + +The retreat from Mons to the Marne was one of terrible hardship +and imminent danger. For nearly fourteen days, in obedience to +orders, the British soldiers,--fighting terrific rear guard actions, +which, in retarding the invaders, made possible the ultimate +victory,--slowly retreated, never losing their morale, although +suffering untold physical hardships and the greater agony of temporary +defeats, which they could not at that time understand, and yet it +is to their undying credit, in common with their brave comrades +of the French Army, that when the moment came to cease the retreat +and to turn upon a foe, which flushed with unprecedented victory +still greatly outnumbered the retreating armies, the British soldier +struck back with almost undiminished power. The "miracle of the +Marne" is due to Tommy Atkins as well as to the French Poilu. + +Even more wonderful was the defense of Ypres. There was a time in +the first battle of Ypres when the British high command, denuded +of shells, were allotting among their commands, then engaged in a +life-and-death struggle, ammunition which had not yet left England. +So terribly was the "first seven divisions" of glorious memory +decimated in this first battle of Ypres, that at a critical time, +the bakers, cobblers and grooms were put into the trenches to fill +the gaps made by the slain soldiers in that great charnel house. +The "thin red line" held back--not for days, but for weeks,--an +immensely superior force, and the soldiers of England unflinchingly +bared their breasts to the most destructive artillery-fire that +the world at that time had ever known. They held their ground and +saved the day, and the glory of the first and second battles of +Ypres, which saved Calais, and possibly the war itself, will ever +be that of the British Army. + +Over four million Britons have volunteered in the war, and although +very few of them had ever had an previous military experience, yet +their stamina and unconquerable courage were such that the youth +of the great Empire, on more than one occasion, when called upon, +as on the Somme, to attack as well as defend, swept the famed Prussian +guard out of seemingly impregnable positions, as for example at +Contalmaison. + +Will the world ever forget the children of the Mother Empire who +came so freely and nobly from far distant Canada, who wrenched Vimy +and Messines ridges from a powerful foe? + +I hear still the tramp of marching thousands in the first days of +the war, as they passed through the streets of Winchester en route +to France via Southampton, singing with cheer and joy, "It is a +long way to Tipperary." Alas! It is indeed a "long, long way," +and many a gallant English boy has fallen in that way of glory. + +To-day, from the Channel to the Vosges, there are hundreds of +thousands of graves where British soldiers keep the ghostly bivouac +of the dead. They gave their young lives on the soil of France to +save France, and when the great result is finally accomplished, a +grateful world will never forget that "fidelity even unto death" of +the British soldier. Their place on Fame's eternal camping ground +is sure. + +What just man can fail to appreciate the work of the English +sailor? It has been said by Lord Curzon, that never has an English +mariner in this war refused to accept the arduous and most dangerous +service of patrolling the great highways of the deep. No soldier +can surpass in courage or fortitude the mine sweepers, who have +braved the elemental forces of nature, and the most cruel forces +of the Terror, which lurks under the seas. + +The spirit of Nelson still inspires them, for every mariner of +England has done his duty in this greatest crisis of the modern +world. + +And how can words pay due tribute to the work and sacrifices of the +women and children of England? They have endured hardships with +masculine strength, and have accepted irreparable sacrifices with +infinite self-sacrifice. + +When the three British cruisers were sunk early in the war by a +single submarine, and many thousand British sailors perished, the +news was conveyed to a seaport town in England, from which many of +them had been recruited, by posting upon a screen the names of the +pitifully few men who had survived that terrible disaster. Thousands +of women, the wives and daughters of those who had perished, waited +in the open square in the hope, in most cases in vain, to see the +name of some one who was dear to them posted among the survivors; +and yet when the last names of the rescued were finally posted, and +thousands of English women, there assembled, realized that those +who were nearest and dearest to them had perished beneath the waves, +these women of England, instead of lamentations or tears, in the +spirit of loftiest and most sacred patriotism united their voices +and sang "Britannia Rules the Waves," and re-affirmed their belief +that, notwithstanding all the powers of Hell, that "Britons never +would be slaves." + +Who shall then question England's right to a conspicuous place in +this worldwide tournament of Fame? In all her past history, there +has never been any page more glorious. Without her, as without +France, civilization would have perished. To each nation be lasting +honor! + +The spirit of Shakespeare has animated his people, and that mighty +spirit still says to them in his own flaming words--- + +"In God's name, cheerily on, courageous friends, +To reap the harvest of perpetual peace +By this one bloody trial of sharp war." + +[signed]James M. Beck + + + + + +Unity and Peace + + + + +Great Britain and the United States were politically separated +nearly a century and a half ago, because Britain was not in those +days governed by the will of the people as she has been for the +last eighty years and more. But the ideals of the two nations +have been for many generations substantially the same. Both have +loved Liberty ever since the time when their common ancestors +wrested it from feudal monarchs. A time has now come when both +nations are called to defend, and to extend in the world at large, +the freedom they won within their own countries. America has +harkened to the call. Renouncing her former isolation, she has +felt that duty to mankind requires her to contend in arms for the +freedom she has illustrated by her example. The soldiers of Britain +and France welcome the stalwart sons of America as their comrades +in this great struggle for Democracy and Humanity. With their help, +they look forward confidently to a decisive victory, a victory to +be followed by a lasting peace. + +[signed] Bryce. + + + + + +[caption under a picture] The Right Honourable Arthur James Balfour + +"Here was a great British statesman equal to his place and fame. +He will long be remembered in America. He has done a high service +to Great Britain and all democracies." -- New York Times (Editorial) + + + + + +Our Common Heritage + + + + +Not very long ago I happened to be dining in The Savoy Restaurant +in London one evening at a table close to the screen, when suddenly +there was a stir. People looked away from their dinners. The band +abruptly stopped the air it was playing, and after an instant's +pause struck up another. Every one in the crowded restaurant stood +up. And then there came in slowly from the outer hall a procession +of serious looking men in uniform, who, walking in couples, made +their way to a large table almost in the middle of the room. They +gained their places. The air ceased. The new comers sat down. +And we all went on with our dinners and our interrupted conversations. + +What did we talk about? Well, I will dare forswear that at +all the tables the same subject was discussed. And that subject +was--America. For the air we had heard was "The Star Spangled +Banner," and the men we had seen were General Pershing, commanding +the first American contingent to France, and his Staff, who had +landed that day in England. It was a great moment for Britishers, +and those of us who were there will probably never forget it. For +it meant the beginning of a New Era, and, let us hope, of a new +sympathy and a new understanding. + +Since then we have learnt something of what America is doing. We +know that ten millions of men have registered as material +for the American army, that a gigantic aircraft scheme and a huge +shipbuilding program are in process of realization; that enormous +camps and cantonments have been established for the training of +officers and men, that American women have crossed the Atlantic, +in spite of the great danger from submarines, to act as nurses at +the front, that the regular army has been increased to thrice its +former size, that the volunteer militia has been doubled through +voluntary enlistment, and that an immense expenditure has been voted +for war purposes. We know all this and we are glad, and thankful +that hands have been held out to us across the sea. + +True sympathy and true understanding are very rare in this world. +Even between individuals they are not easy to bring about, and +between nations they are practically unknown. Diversity of tongues +builds up walls between the peoples. But the Americans and the +British ought to learn to draw near to each other, and surely the +end of this war, whenever it comes, will find them more inclined +for true friendship, for frank understanding, than they have ever +been yet, less critical of national failings, less clearsighted +for national faults. The brotherhood of man, which the idealistic +Russian sighs for, may only be a far away dream, but the brotherhood +of those who speak one language, have one great aim, and fight +side by side for freedom against force, law against lawlessness, +justice against persecution, right against evil, is a reality, and +must surely endure long after the smoke of the world war has faded +into the blue sky of peace, and the roar of the guns has died away +into the silence of the dawn for which humanity is longing. + +The happy warriors lead us. Let us follow them and we shall attain +a goodly heritage. + +[signed] Robert Hichens. + + + + + +Poetic Justice + + + + +I + + +The blow fell without warning, and a typewritten notice informed +the Poet that the Cabinet Committee on Accommodation required the +tiny, thread-bare chambers in Stafford's Inn, where he had lived +unobtrusively for seven happy, insolvent years. + +"'There was no worth in the fashion; there was no wit in the +plan,'" murmured the Poet. The rooms were too small even for a +Deputy-Director-General, and he knew that not one of the +silk-stockinged, short-skirted, starling-voiced young women +with bare arms and regimental badges, who acted as secretaries to +Deputy-Director-Generals, would consent to walk up four flights +of creaking, uncarpeted stairs to the dusty sparrows' nest on the +housetop that was his home. + +For a while he scented a vendetta, but--deleterious poetry apart--he +had injured no man, and the personnel of the Cabinet Committee was +as little known to him as his poetry to the Cabinet Committee. In +general, too, he was the object of a certain popularity and pitying +regard; the Millionaire sent him presents of superfluous game each +year, the Iron King invited him at short notice to make a fourteenth +at dinner and the Official Receiver unloaded six bottles of sample +port wine when the Poet succumbed to his annual bronchitis. Even +the notice of eviction was politely worded and regretful; it was +also uncompromising in spirit, and the Poet made his hurried way +to four house-agents. No sooner had he started his requirements +to be a bed-sitting-room (with use of bath) within the four-mile +radius than all four agents offered him a Tudor manor house in +Westmoreland; further, they refused to offer him anything else, but +on his own initiative he discovered a studio in Glebe Place and a +service-flat in Victoria Street. + +"I saw in the paper that you'd been turned out," said the Millionaire +that night, when the Poet trudged home, footsore and fretful, to +find his chambers occupied by the Iron King, the Private Secretary, +the Lexicographer, the Military Attaché and their friends. "What +are you going to do about it?" he continued with the relentlessness +of a man who likes a prompt decision, even if it be a wrong one. +"You know nothing about business, I'm sure; leases, premiums, +insurance, all that sort of thing. You're in a hole; I don't see +what more there is to be said." + +So far the Poet, his mind wavering wearily between Glebe Place and +Victoria Street, had said nothing; he turned silently to the Iron +King, wondering how, without being rude, to indicate his desire +for bed. + +"I saw rather a decent place that might suit you," drawled the +Private Secretary, smoothing a wrinkle out of his shapely silk +socks. "It's next to my Chief's in Belgrave Square. Of course, +I don't know what rent they want for it..." + +The Iron King shook his head. + +"He couldn't afford it," he said, speaking through and around and +over the Poet. "Now I'm told that there are some very comfortable +and cheap boarding-houses near Kensington Palace Gardens...." + +The Poet drew the cork of a fresh bottle of whisky and collected +four unbroken tumblers, a pewter mug and two breakfast cups without +handles. As so often before, his destiny seemed to be slipping +out of his control into the hands of the practical, strong-voiced +men who filled his sitting-room to overflowing and would not +let him go to bed. The Military Attaché knew of a maisonnette in +Albemarle Street; the Official Receiver had been recently brought +into professional contact with a fine Georgian property in +Buckinghamshire, where they could all meet for a week-end game of +golf at Stoke Pogis. Somewhere in Chelsea--not Glebe Place--the +Lexicographer had seen just the thing, if only he could be quite +sure about the drains.... With loud cheerfulness they accepted +the Millionaire's postulate that the Poet knew nothing of business; +unselfishly they placed all their experience and preferences at +his disposal. + +"Of course, there's the servant problem," an undistinguished voice +remarked two hours later; and the Poet, settling to an uneasy sleep +in his chair, mentally ruled out the Chelsea studio. + +"The ordinary surveyor's no use," broke in the Lexicographer, pursuing +his own line of thought. "What you want is a drainage expert." + +"I know these good, honest, middle-aged couples," cried the Iron +King with the bitterness of an oft-defrauded widower. "The woman +always drinks, and them man always steals the cigars..." + +"I have nothing but gas in my place," said the decorous voice of +the Private Secretary, "and I have it on pretty good authority that +there'll be a great coal shortage this winter. I don't want that +to go any further, though..." + +The Millionaire rose to his feet with a yawn. + +"He must get an experienced woman-friend to help him with things +like carpets and curtains," he ordained with mellow benevolence. +"When my wife comes back from Wales.... How soon do you have to +turn out, Poet?" + +The Poet woke with a start and looked at the clock. The time was +a quarter to two, and he still wanted to go to bed. + +"Ten days," he murmured drowsily. + +"Jove! You haven't much time," said the Millionaire. "Now, look +here; the one thing NOT to do is to be in a hurry. Any place you +take now will probably have to serve you for several years, and +you'll find moving a lot more expensive than you think. If you can +get some kind of shake-down for a few days,--" he turned expansively +to his friends--"we may be able to give you a few hints." + +The Poet became suddenly wakeful and alert. + +"Do I understand that you're offering me a bed until you find me +permanent quarters?" he enquired with slow precision. + +"Er--yes," said the Millionaire a little blankly. + +"Thank you," answered the Poet simply. "I say, d'you men mind if +I turn you out now? It's rather late, and I haven't been sleeping +very well." + + +II + + +A week later the Poet walked up Park Lane, followed by an elderly +man trundling two compressed cane trunks on a barrow with a loose +wheel. It was a radiant summer afternoon, and taxis stood idle in +long ranks, when they were not drawing in to the curb with winning +gestures. The Poet, however, wished to make his arrival dramatic, +and it was dramatic enough to make the Millionaire's butler direct +him to the tradesman's entrance, while the Millionaire, remembering +little but suspecting all, hurried away by a side door, leaving +a message that he was out of England for the duration of the war. +The lot fell on the Millionaire's wife to invent such excuses +as would rid the house of the Poet's presence before dinner. The +Millionaire's instincts were entirely hospitable, but that night's +party had been arranged for the entertainment and subsequent +destruction of four men with money to invest and, like the Poet, +"no knowledge of business, investments, all that sort of thing." + +"No, we have not met before," explained the Poet coldly and +uncompromisingly, abandoning the rather gentle voice and caressing +manners which caused women to invite him to dinner when they could +think of no one else. "Your husband and one or two of our common +friends have kindly undertaken to find me new quarters, and I have +been invited to stay here until something suitable has been found." + +There was silence for a few moments, and the Millionaire's wife looked +apprehensively at the clock, while the Poet laid the foundations +of a malignantly substantial tea. + +"H-how far have you got at present?" she asked with an embarrassed +laugh. + +"Your husband told me to leave it to him," answered the Poet, "and +I've left it to him. There was a general feeling that I didn't +know what I wanted--house or flat, north or south of the Park, all +the rest of it--; they said there would be a scandal if I employed +a young maid, I couldn't afford two, and an old one would pawn my +clothes to buy gin. I am quoting your husband now; I know nothing +of business. Every one agreed, too, that I must have a drain of +some kind. Would you say it took long to find a bed-sitting room +with use of bath?" + +The Millionaire's wife hurriedly pushed back her chair? + +"My husband's going abroad for the duration of the war," she said +in loyal explanation, "but it's just possible that he hasn't started +yet." + +The Millionaire, returning on tip-toe from the loft over the garage, +had sought asylum in the library, where he was smoking a cigar and +reading the evening paper. As his wife entered he looked up with +welcoming expectancy. + +"How did you get rid of him?" he asked. + +The Millionaire's wife pressed her hands to her temples. + +"My dear! What HAVE you been promising him?" she cried. + +The Millionaire swore softly, as the truth sank into his brain. + +"Have another place laid for dinner," he ordered; "book two seats +for a music-hall and take him out to supper afterwards. I can't +afford to be disturbed to-night. To-morrow I must get in touch +with the Iron King.... I don't see what more there is to be said." + +Four weeks later the Poet drove in a six-cylinder car from Park +Lane to Eaton Square on an indeterminate visit to the Iron King. +He was looking better for the month's good wine and food, in which +the Millionaire's house abounded; but now the Millionaire, who based +his fortune on knowing the right people in every walk of life, was +arranging to have his house taken over by the Red Cross authorities. +In a week's time the house was to be found unsuitable and restored +to him, but henceforth the Iron King was to have the honor of +entertaining the Poet. + +"How you ever came to make such a promise!" wailed the Millionaire's +wife for the twentieth time, as they drove to Claridge's. "London's +so full that you might have known it's impossible to get ANYthing." + +"I feel that we have exhausted this subject," answered the Millionaire +with the bruskness of a man whose nerves have worn thin; with the +menace, too, of one who, having divorced his first wife, would +divorce the second on small provocation. + +The Iron King was not at home when the Poet arrived in Eaton Squire, +but a pretty, young secretary, cultured to the point of transforming +all her final "g's" into "k's" received him with every mark of +welcome. She admired the Iron King romantically and was in the +habit of writing his surname after her own Christian name to see +how the combination looked; and, when he had departed each morning +to contest his latest assessment for excess profits, she would wander +through the house, planning little changes in the arrangement of +the furniture and generally deploring the sober, colorless taste +of the first Iron Queen. So far her employer returned none of her +admiration. He addressed her loosely as "Miss--er" and forgot her +name; he never noticed what clothes she was wearing or the pretty +dimples that she made by holding down the inside flesh of her +cheeks between her eye-teeth; further, he criticized her spelling +spitefully and, on the occasion of the Millionaire's second marriage, +had dictated a savage half sheet beginning, "A young man may marry +once, as he may get drunk once, without the world thinking much +the worse of him; habitual intemperance is, on first principles, +to be deplored...." + +The pretty young secretary knew from fiction and the drama that +the Iron King would never appreciate her until he stood in danger +of losing her. She welcomed the Poet as a foil and misquoted his +poetry twice before tea was over; then she invited him to accompany +her to a picture palace, but the Poet, once inside the citadel, was +reluctant to leave it until his position was more firmly established. + +Scarcely entrenched at Claridge's, the Millionaire telephoned +derisively to the city, so that the Iron King returned home half an +hour before his usual time, prepared to deal with the Poet as he +dealt with querulous or inquisitive shareholders at General Meetings. +The Poet, however, was long and painfully accustomed to combat +with enraged editors and lost no time in assuming the offensive, +demanding indignantly in a high head-voice, before the Iron King +had crossed his own threshold, why no quarters had been found for +him and how much longer any one imagined that he would put up with +the indignity of being bandied from one wretched house to another. + +The flushed cheeks and hysterical manner put the Iron King temporarily +out of countenance. + +"My dear fellow!" he interrupted ingratiatingly. + +"I'm not a business man," continued the Poet hotly. "You all of +you told me that, and I'm disposed to say: 'Thank God, I'm not.'" + +The Iron King put his hat carefully out of reach and forced a smile. + +"You mustn't take it like that, old chap," he said soothingly. +"I--we--all of us are doing our best. Now we won't bother about +dressing; let's go straight in and thrash the thing out over a +bottle of wine." + +Instructing his butler very audibly to open a bottle of the +1906 Lanson, he slipped his arm through the Poet's and led him, +sullenly murmuring, into the dining-room. With the second bottle +of champagne, his guest ceased to be aggrieved and became quarrelsome; +when the port wine appeared, he had the Iron King cowed and broken +in moral. + +"If you find fault with everything, why do you come here, why stay +here?" complained the Iron King with a last flickering effort to +recover his independence. + +"Why don't you find me some other place to go to, as you promised?" +the Poet retorted, as he made his way to the morning-room and sat +down to order a month's supply of underclothes from his hosier. + + +III + + +The Iron King always boasted that honesty was the best policy +and that he was invariably willing to put his cards on the table. +The Millionaire had once professed himself likely to be satisfied +if the Iron King would only remove the fifth ace from his sleeve, +and a certain coolness between the two men resulted. In general, +however, he had the reputation of a frank, bluff fellow. + +On the morrow of the Poet's arrival, he remained in bed and announced in +the quavering pencil-strokes of a sick man, that he was suffering +from anthrax, which, he might add, was not only painful but +infectious. The Poet scrawled across one corner of the note that +anthrax was usually fatal, but that, as he himself had twice had +it, he would risk taking it a third time in order to be with his +friend. Thereupon the Iron King departed to the city, leaving the +Poet to dictate blank verse to the pretty young secretary, who curled +both feet round one leg of her chair, told him that she "loved his +potry more'n anythink she'd ever read" and asked how all the hard +words like "chrysoprase" and "asphdel" were spelt. That night a +telegram arrived shortly before dinner, and the Iron King announced +that the Ministry of Munitions was sending him to America to +stabilize iron prices. + +"Why can't you finish one thing before starting another?" demanded +the Poet hectoringly. "You haven't YET found me any quarters, and +you call yourself a business man. I shall of course stay on here +till your return..." + +The Iron King shook his head gravely. + +"That's impossible," he interrupted. "My young secretary..." + +"You must take her with you," answered the Poet obstinately. + +The subject was not pursued, but at bed time the Iron King roundly +asked the Poet how much he would take to go away. + +"I require a home," answered the Poet frigidly, remembering the +weary day spent by him in discovering the Glebe Place studio and +the weary night spent by the Iron King in recommending Kensington +boarding houses. "I do not want your money." + +"We shan't fall out over a pound or two," urged the Iron King with +a meaning motion of the hand towards his breast pocket. + +"A thing is either a promise or it is not a promise," replied the +Poet, as he turned on his heel. "I know nothing of business or +what people are pleased to term 'commercial morality.'" + +Four weeks later the Poet left Eaton Square for the Private +Secretary's rooms in Bury Street. He looked thin and anemic after +his month of privations, for the Iron King, improving in morale +and recapturing something of the old strike-breaking spirit, had +counter-attacked on the third day of the Poet's visit. The chauffeur, +butler and two footmen, all of military age, had been claimed on +successive appeals as indispensable, but on their last appearance +at the Tribunal the Iron King had unprotestingly presented them +to the Army. This he followed by breakfasting in bed, lunching in +the city, dining at his club and leaving neither instructions nor +money for the maintenance of the household. For a time the Poet +was saved from the greater starvation by the care of the pretty +young secretary, but without an Iron King there was no need for a +foil. Sharp words were exchanged one morning over the propriety +of grounds in coffee; the pretty young secretary declared that she +would "have nothink more to do with him or his old potry"; and in +the afternoon he packed his trunks with his own hands and with his +own hands dragged them downstairs on to the pavement, leaving the +pretty young secretary biting viciously at the corner of a crumpled +handkerchief drenched in "White Rose." + +The Private Secretary received him in a manner different from that +adopted by either the Millionaire or the Iron King. The two men +were of nearly the same age, but in a deferential, if mis-spent +life the Private Secretary had learned to be non-committal. Well +he knew that he had but one bedroom; well he knew that, on admitting +it, the Poet would claim it from him. + +"A spare bed?" he echoed, when the Poet dragged his trunks into +the middle of a tiny sitting room. "Really, I have no statement +to make." + +"At least you will not deny," said the Poet with truculent emphasis, +"that you undertook to find me suitable accommodation and to supply +me with a bed until it was found." + +"I must refer you to the reply given to a similar question on the +twenty-third ultimo," answered the Private Secretary loftily. for +a rich reward he could not have said where he had been or what he +had done on the twenty-third ultimo, but to the Poet the reply was +new and disconcerting. + +"Where's my flat anyway?" he pursued doggedly. + +"I have no statement to make," reiterated the Private Secretary. + +After an awkward silence, during which neither yielded an inch +of ground, the Poet dragged his trunks destructively downstairs +and drove to the flat of the Official Receiver. Glowing with the +consciousness of victory, the Private Secretary dressed for dinner +and started out to his club. His good-humor was impaired, when he +observed in his hall a pendant triangle of wall-paper flapping in +the draught of the open door through which the Poet had dragged +his trunks. Further on, the paint was scarred on the stairs, and +the carpet of the main hall was rucked and disordered; there was +also a lingering suggestion of escaping gas, and the Secretary +observed a bracket hanging at a bibulous angle. + +"This," he murmured through grimly set teeth, "is sheer frightfulness." + +Returning to his rooms, he drawled a friendly warning by telephone +to the Millionaire, who instantly gave orders that no one of any +sex or age was to be admitted. Next he called up the Iron King and +repeated the warning; then the Lexicographer, the Official Receiver +and the Military Attaché were similarly placed on their guard, and +there was nothing to do but to proceed to his belated dinner. + +The Great War, which had converted staff officers into popular +preachers, novelists into strategical experts and everyone else +into a Minister of the Crown, had left the Poet (in name, at least) +a poet and in nothing else anything at all. He acted precisely +as the Private Secretary had intended him to act, driving first to +the Lexicographer's house, where he was greeted by a suspiciously +new "TO LET" board, and thence to the Official Receiver's flat, +where a typewritten card informed him that this bell was out of +order. Embarrassed but purposeful, he directed his four-wheeler to +Eaton Square, but the blinds were down, and a semblance of mourning +draped the Iron King's house. In Park Lane a twenty-yard expanse +of straw, nine inches thick, prayed silence for the Millionaire's +quick recovery. + +"I don't know where to go to next," murmured the Poet dejectedly. + +"Well, I'm blest if I do," grumbled the driver. "And it's past my +tea-time. Doncher know where yer live?" + +"Years ago I had rooms in Stafford's Inn," began the Poet. "Then +the Cabinet Committee..." + +The cabman descended from his box for a heart to heart conversation. + +"Now you look 'ere," he said. "I got a boy at 'ome the livin' +image of you..." + +"But how nice!" interrupted the Poet, wondering apprehensively +whether an invitation was on its way to him. + +The cabman sniffed. + +"Not quite righ in 'is 'ead 'e ain't. THEREfore I don't want to +be 'arsh with yer. Jump inside, let me drive yer ter Stafford's +Inn, pay me me legal fare and a bob ter drink yer 'ealth--and +we'll say no more abaht it. If yer don't--" He made a threatening +gesture towards the Poet's precariously strapped trunks--"I'll +throw the blinkin' lot on ter the pivement, and yer can carry 'em +'ome on yer 'ead. See?" + +"I couldn't, you know," objected the Poet gently. + +"Jump inside," repeated the cabman. + +One hope was as forlorn as another, and the Poet was too sick with +hunger to think of resistance. In time the four-wheeler rumbled +its way to think of resistance. In time the four-wheeler rumbled +its way to Stafford's Inn; in time and by force of habit the Poet +was mounting the bare, creaking, wooden stairs; in time he found +himself fitting his unsurrendered latch key into his abandoned +lock. + +Beyond an eight week's layer of dust on chairs and table, the +threadbare rooms were little changed. A loaf of bread, green and +furred with mold, lay beside an empty marmalade pot from which a +cloud of flies emerged with angry buzzing; a breakfast cup without +a handle completed the furniture of the table, and in the rickety +armchair was an eight-week-old "Morning Post." + +"The Cabinet Committee has neglected its opportunities," grumbled +the Poet, surveying with disfavor the dusty, derelict scene. + +Then his eye was caught by a long envelope, thrust half-way under +the door, from the Cabinet Committee itself. An indecipherable +set of initials, later describing itself as his obedient servant, +was directed to inform him on a date two months earlier that it +had been decided not to requisition the offices and chambers of +Stafford's Inn. The formal notice was accordingly to be regarded +as canceled. + +The Poet, who knew nothing of business, wrote instructing his +solicitors to claim for two months' disturbance from the Defense +of the Realm Commission on Losses and to include all legal costs +in the claim. + + +IV + + +Three weeks later the Private Secretary was strolling across the +Horse Guard's Parade on his way to luncheon, when he caught sight +of the Poet. Since their last altercation his conscience had been +as uneasy as a Private Secretary's conscience can be, and he strove +to avoid the meeting. The Poet, however, was full of sunshine and +smiles. + +"I've not seen you for weeks!" he cried welcomingly. "How's everybody +and what's everybody doing? Is the Millionaire all right again? +I understand he's been ill." + +The Private Secretary eyed his friend suspiciously. + +"He has not left his house for three weeks," he answered. + +"And the Iron King." + +"He has not either." + +The Poet's eyes lit up with dawning comprehension. + +"What about the Lexicographer and the Official Receiver?" he asked. +"The same? What an infernal nuisance! I wanted to call round and +see whether they had got me a flat." + +The Private Secretary shook his head. + +"It's not the least use," he said emphatically. "None of them +has been outside his front door for three weeks, no one knows when +they'll come out again, no one is allowed inside. Last night I +had a box given me for the theater, and I tried to make up a party; +all their telephones were disconnected, and, when I drove round +in person, I couldn't even get the bell answered." He paused and +then enquired carelessly, "By the way, have you got into your new +quarters yet? They would be interested to know." + +"I haven't got any new quarters," answered the Poet. "You remember +that you and the others were going to find them for me. I know +nothing of business--and I'm not likely to get new rooms until I +see the Millionaire and the Iron King." + +At the steps of his club the Private Secretary paused, as though +wondering whether to say that the Poet was unlikely to see the +Iron King or the Millionaire until he had got his new rooms. This +prolonged voluntary self-internment was a source of inconvenience, +for in the peaceful days before the Cabinet Committee on Accommodation +had stepped in, there were pleasant parties in Eaton Square and +Park Lane. Now the Private Secretary was reduced to paying for +his own dinners more often than was agreeable. He said nothing, +however, for fear of concentrating the Poet's fire on himself. + +"It must be simply wrecking their business," said the Poet to himself, +as he walked to Bedford Row to see how the claim for disturbance +was progressing. "It serves them right, though, for talking drains +when I wanted to go to bed." + +Stephen McKenna + + + + + +The Spell of the Kilties + + + + +What made the crowds turn out in their applauding thousands in New +York, Boston, Chicago, Brooklyn, and wherever the "Kilties" from +Canada appeared during their visit to the United States of America +on their British Recruiting Mission, during the summer of 1917? + +Or why do the inhabitants of Paris single out the kilted regiments +when a March Past of the forces of the Allies is held on a National +Fete Day, and press upon the soldiers with showers of flowers and +tokens of admiration? + +Is it simply because the dress worn is somewhat out of the +common, giving a touch of color to these gray times, and bringing +associations of days of old, as the men swing along, with a swish +of their kilts, to the skirl of the Pipes? + +Or is there not a deeper meaning in this spontaneous welcome which +comes so evidently from the hearts of the onlookers, and one which +is reflected in the popularity of Colonel Walter Scott's New York +kilted Highlanders, and by the many find bodies of men turned +out--mostly at their own expense--by the Scottish Clan and Highland +Dress Associations, in various cities of the U. S. A.? + +The truth is that deep down in the hearts of the majority of the +human race there exists a profound attachment to the ideals of +gallantry and chivalry which were nourished by the stories we loved +in childhood, and by the tales of Scottish prowess, in prose and +poetry, selected for the school-books in use by the children of +the English-speaking peoples. + +Scotland has indeed been blessed by the possession of poets +and bards who have preserved her annals and sung the deeds of her +patriot heroes in so alluring a form, that her sons and daughters +are assured of a welcome in any part of the world, and start with +the great asset of being always expected to "make good" in every land +of their adoption. Wherever they may roam, we find them occupying +positions of influence, and still cherishing and promulgating the +traditions and customs of the Land of the Heather, which impel to +high thinking, resolute doing, and the upholding of old standards, +such as build up the lives both of individuals and of nations. + +And thus, when the moment of emergency arrives when "to every +man and nation comes the moment to decide" you will find the men +and women of Scottish descent to the forefront in every fight for +liberty and righteousness in every part of the globe. + +And in the midst of the clash and din of arms you will catch ever +and anon the sound of the up-lifting cadence of some grand old +Scottish Psalm tune, bringing comfort, and courage, and clam,--and +then the call of the Pipes, inspiring war-worn troops to accomplish +impossible tasks, such as the feats which have made the Gordon +Highlanders and their Pipers immortal--as at Dargai, and have brought +fresh glory to many a Scottish Regiment in this great war--aye, +and to many a regiment of brother Gaels from Ireland also, of whose +exploits we have heard as they rushed into the fray, preceded by +their Irish War-Pipes. + +A few weeks ago, a young widow with her two months' old baby in +her arms, was following the remains of her husband to his warrior's +grave "somewhere in France." She was dry-eyed and rebellious in +her youthful despair, as she walked at the head of the sad little +procession of her husband's comrades;--and then the party met +a Highland Pipe Band, whose Pipe-Major, quick to understand the +situation, halted his men, wheeled them round, and gave the signal +to play the lovely Lament: "Lochaber no more!" + +At the sound of the familiar strains the founts of sorrow were +unsealed, and weeping, but comforted, the child-wife mother was +able to commit her dead hero's dust to the grave in sure and certain +confidence of a glorious re-union, and turned to face life again +with his little son, with strength and faith renewed. + +This is but a little incident, but it illustrates the hold that +the music of the Gael has on the hearts of its children, and of its +power to evoke memories and associations full of inspiration both +in joy and in sorrow. + +AND IS NOT THIS THE INTERPERTATION OF THE SPELL OF THE "KILTIES"? + +[signed] Lady Aberdeen and Temain + + + + + +Sherston's Wedding Eve + + + + +In the gathering twilight a man stood at the eastern window of a +room which formed the top story of one of the houses in Peter the +Great Terrace--that survival from the early nineteenth century which +forms a kind of recess in the broad thoroughfare linking Waterloo +Bridge with the Strand. The man's name was Shirley Sherston, and +among the happy, prosperous few who are concerned with such things, +he was known for his fine, distinguished work in domestic architecture. + +It was the evening of October 13, 1915, and Sherston was to be +married to-morrow. + +Now, for what most people would have thought a puerile reason, that +with him 13 had always proved a luck number, he had much wished that +to-day should be his wedding day. And Helen Pomeroy, his future +wife, who never thought anything he did or desired to do puerile +or unreasonable, had been quite willing to fall in with his fancy. +The lucky day had actually been chosen. Then a tiresome woman, a +sister of Miss Pomeroy's mother, had said she could not be present +at the marriage if it took place on the thirteenth, as on that day +her son, who had been home on leave, was going back to the Front. +She had also pointed out quite unnecessarily, that 13 is an unlucky +number. + +Staring out into the darkness, Sherston's stormy, eager heart began +to quiver with longing, with regret, and with the half-painful +rapture of anticipation. He had suddenly visioned--and Sherston +was a man given to vivid visions--where he would have been now, at +this moment, had his marriage indeed taken place this morning. He +saw himself, on this beautiful starlit, moonless night, standing, +along with his dear love, on the platform of a medieval tower, which, +together with the picturesque farmhouse which had been tacked on to +the tower about a hundred years ago, rose, close to the seashore, +on a lonely stretch of the Sussex coast. + +But what was not true tonight would be true to-morrow night, +twenty-four hours from now. + +He had bought tower and house three years ago, and he had spent there +many happy holidays, boating and fishing, alone, or in company of +some man chum. Sherston had never thought to bring a woman there, +for the morrow's bridegroom, for some six to seven years past, had +had an impatient contempt for, as well as fear of, women. + +Sherston was a widower, though he never used the word, even in his +innermost heart, for to him the term connoted something slightly +absurd, and he was sensitive to ridicule. + +Very few of the people at preset acquainted with the brilliant, +pleasantly eccentric architect, knew that he had been married +before. But of course the handful of old Bohemian comrades whom +he had faithfully kept from out of the past, were well aware of +the fact. They were not likely to forget it either, for whenever +it was mentioned, each of them at once remembered that which at +the time it had happened, Sherston had every reason to tell rather +than to conceal, namely, that the woman who had been his wife had +gone down with the Titanic. + +But how long ago that now seemed! + +The outbreak of war, which caused so much unmerited misfortune to +English artists and their like, and which at one moment had threatened +to wreck his own successful opening career, had brought to Shirley +Sherston a piece of marvelous good fortune.. + +Early in the memorable August, 1914, at a time when the fabric of +his life and work seemed shattered, and when the lameness which +he had so triumphantly coped with during his grown up life as to +cause those about him scarcely to know it was there, made it out +of the question for him to respond to his country's first call for +men, the architect happened to run across James Pomeroy, a cultivated +millionaire with whom he had once had a slight business relation. +Acting on a kindly impulse which even now Mr. Pomeroy hardly knew +whether to remember with pleasure or regret, the older man had +pressed the younger to spend a week in a country house which he +had taken for the summer near London. + +That was now fourteen months ago, but Sherston, standing there, +remembered as if it had happened yesterday, his first sight of +the girl who was to become his wife to-morrow. Helen Pomeroy had +been standing on a brick path bordered with holly hocks, and she +had smiled, a little shyly and gravely, at her father's rather +eccentric-looking guest. But on that war-summer morning she had +appeared to the stranger as does a mirage of spring water to a man +who is dying of thirst in the desert. + +Up to that time Sherston had always supposed himself to be attracted +to small women. He was a big, fair man, with loosely hung limbs, +and his wife--poor little baggage--had been a tiny creature, vixenish +at her worst, kittenish at her best. But Helen Pomeroy was tall, +with the noble proportions and tapering limbs of a goddess, and +gradually--not for some time, for all social life was dislocated in +England during that strange summer--Sherston became aware, with a +kind of angry revolt of soul, that he was but one of many worshipers +at the shrine. + +Following an irresistible impulse, he early in their acquaintance +told Helen Pomeroy more of himself than he had ever told any other +human being; and his confidences at last included a bowdlerized +account of his wretched marriage. But though they soon became +friends, and though he went on seeing a great deal of her, all +through that autumn and winter, Sherston feared to put his fate +to the touch, and he was jealous--God alone knew how hideously, +intolerably jealous--of the khaki-clad soldiers who came and went +in her father's house in town. + +and then, one day, during the second summer of their acquaintance, +a word let drop by Mr. Pomeroy, who had become fond of the odd, +restless fellow, opened a pit before Sherston's feet. It was a +word implying that now, at last, Helen's father and mother hoped +she would "make up her mind." A very distinguished soldier, whom +she had refused as a girl of twenty, had come back unchanged, +after six years, from India, and Helen, or so her parents hoped +and thought, was seriously thinking of him. + +Sherston had kept away. He had even left two of her letters--the +rather formal letters which had come to mean so very much in his +life--unanswered. A fortnight had gone by, and then there had +reached him a prim little note from Mrs. Pomeroy, asking him why +he had not been to see them lately. There was a postscript: "If +you do not come soon, you will not see my daughter. She has not +been well, and we are thinking of sending her up to Scotland, to +friends who are in Skye, for a good long holiday." + +He had gone to Cadogan Square (it was August 13th) as quickly as a +taxi could take him, and by a blessed stroke of luck he had found +Miss Pomeroy alone. In a flash all had come right between them. +That had only been nine weeks ago, and now they were to be married +to-morrow... + +Sherston had been standing a long time at that casement of his +which commanded the huge gray mass of Somerset House, when at last +he turned round, and went quickly across the room to the other, +western, window. + +Even in the gathering darkness what a faery view was there! Glad +as he was to know that after to-night he would never again see this +living room in its present familiar guise--for he had arranged with +a furniture dealer to come and take everything left in it away, +within an hour of his departure--he told himself that never again +could he hope to live with such a view as that on which he was +gazing out now. + +The yellowing branches of the trees which have their roots deep in +the graveyard of the old Savoy Chapel formed, even in mid-October, +a delicious screen of living, moving leaves. Far below, to his +left, ran the river Thames, its rushing waters full of a mysterious, +darksome beauty, and illumined, here and there, with the quivering +reflection of shadowed white, green and red lights. Sherston in +his heart often blessed the Sepelin scare which had banished the +monstrous, flaring signs which, till a few months ago, had so offended +his eyes each time that he looked out into the night, towards the +water. + +The lease of a fine old house in Cheyenne Walk had been chosen by +Mr. Pomeroy as his daughter's wedding gift, and already certain of +Sherston's personal possessions had been moved there. But he was +taking with him as little as possible, and practically nothing from +this memory-haunted room. + +It was the big, light, airy, loft-like apartment which had attracted +him in these chambers fifteen years ago, when he had first come to +London from the Midlands, at the age of three-and-twenty. It was +here, five years later, that he had come straight back from the +Soho Registry Office with the young woman whom he had quixotically +drawn up out of a world--the nether world--where she had been +happier than she could ever hope to become with him. For Kitty +Brawle--her very surname was symbolic--was one of those doomed +creatures who love the mud, who never really wish to leave the +mud--who feel scraped and sad when clean. + +Unhappy Sherston! The noblest thing he had ever done, or was ever +likely to do, in his life, proved, for a time at least, his undoing. +Kitty had made him from generous mean, from unsuspecting suspicious, +and during the wretched year they had spent together she had had +a disastrous effect on his work. At last, acting on the shrewd +advice of one of those instinctive men of the world of which Bohemia +is full, he had bought her a billet in a theatrical touring company. +There, by an extraordinary chance, Kitty made a tiny hit--sufficiently +of a hit to bring her from an American impresario a creditable +offer, contingent on her fare being paid to the States. + +Gladly, how gladly only he himself had known--Sherston had taken +her passage in the Titanic, Kitty's own characteristic choice of a +boat. And he had done more. though short of money, he had given +Kitty a hundred pounds. + +Four days after their parting had come the astounding news of the +sinking of the liner, followed, by Sherston, by a period of strange, +painful suspense, filled with the eager scanning of lists, cables +to and from America, finally terminated by an official intimation +that poor Kitty had gone down in, and with, the ship. + +Sherston's imagination was inconveniently vivid, and for a few +poignant weeks his wife's horrible end haunted him. But after a +while he forced himself to take a long holiday in Greece, and from +there he came back with his nerves in better order than they had +ever been. + +Fate, which so seldom interferes with kindly intention in the lives +of men, had cut what had become a strangling knot, and Kitty, from +a dreadful, never-forgotten burden, had become a rather touching, +piteous memory, growing ever dimmer as first the months, and then +the years, slipped by. + +Even so, her ghost sufficiently often haunted this large room, and +the other apartments which composed Sherston's set of chambers, to +make him determine that Miss Pomeroy should never come there. And +she, being in this as unlike other, commonplace, young woman as she +was in everything else, had never put him to the pain of finding +an insincere excuse for his unwillingness to show her the place in +which he lived and worked.... + + +The coming night stretched long and bleak before to-morrow's +bridegroom. There were fourteen hours to live through before he +could even see Helen, for the time of the marriage had been fixed +for eleven o'clock. + +Sherston was not looking forward to the actual ceremony--no man ever +does; and though it was to be a war wedding, a great many people, +as he was ruefully aware, had been bidden to the ceremony. But +it was comfortable to know that none of the guests had been asked +to go back to the house from which he and his bride were to start +for Sussex at one o'clock, in the motor which was Mrs. Pomeroy's +marriage gift to her daughter. + +Suddenly Sherston discovered the he was very hungry! He had lunched +at Cadogan Square at a quarter to two, but he had felt too inwardly +excited in that queer atmosphere of tears and laughter, of trousseau +and wedding presents, to eat. + +Even the least earthly of Romantics cannot forget for long the +claims of the flesh, and so, smiling a little wryly in the darkness, +he now told himself that the best thing he could do was to go out +and get some supper. Acquainted with all the eating houses in the +region, he was glad indeed that after to-night he would never have +to enter one again. + +Pulling down the green blind in front of him, Sherston walked +across the room and pulled down the blind of the other window, for +the London lighting orders had become much stricter of late. Then +he turned on the electric light switch, took up his hat and stick, +and went out into the little lobby. + +Before him was a narrow aperture which opened straight on to the +steep, short flight of steps connecting his chambers with the stone +staircase of the big old house. This latter-like set of steps had +a door top and bottom, but the lower door, which gave on to the +landing, was generally left open. Turning out the light in the +lobby, Sherston put his left hand on the banister and slid down in +the darkness, taking the dozen steps as it were in one stride. + +As he reached the bottom he suddenly became aware that the door +before him, that giving on the landing, was shut, and that some +one, almost certainly a child--for there was not room on the mat +for a full-grown person--was crouching down just within the door. + +Sherston felt sharply, perhaps unreasonably, irritated. Known +in the neighborhood as open-handed and kindly, it had sometimes +happened, but generally only in wintry weather, that he had come +home to find some poor waif lying in wait for him. Man, woman or +child who had wandered in, maybe, before the big door downstairs +was closed, or who, if still blessed with some outer semblance of +gentility, had managed cunningly to get past the Cerberus who lived +in the basement, and whose duty it was to open the front door, +after eight at night, to non-residents. + +He felt in his pocket for a half-a-crown, and then, pretending +still to be unaware that there was any one there, he fumbled for +the spring lock. + +The door burst open--he saw before him the shaft of glimmering +whiteness shed by the skylight, for since the Zeppelin raid of the +month before, the staircase was always left in darkness--and the +figure of his unknown guest rolled over, picked itself up, and +stood revealed, a woman, not a child, as he had at first thought. +And then a feeling of sick, shrinking fear came over Sherston, for +there fell on his ears the once horribly familiar accents--plaintive, +wheedling, falsely timorous--of his dead wife's voice.... + +"Is that you, Shirley? I didn't know that you was at home. The +windows were all dark, and--" In an injured tone this: "I've been +waiting here ever so long for you to come in!" + +The wraith-like figure before him was only too clearly flesh and +blood, and, as he stepped forward, it moved quickly across, and +stood, barring his way, on the top stone step of the big staircase. + +Sherston remained silent. He could think of nothing to say. But +his mind began to work with extraordinary rapidity and lucidity. + +There was only one thing to do, here and now. That was to give +the woman standing there a little money--not much--and tell her to +come back again the next day. Having thus got rid of her--he knew +that on no account must she be allowed to stay here the night--he +must go at once to Mr. Pomeroy and tell him of this terrible, hitherto +unimaginable, calamity. He told himself that it would be, if not +exactly easy, then certainly possible to arrange a divorce. + +Determinedly, in these tense, terrible moments, he refused to let +himself face the coming anguish and dismay of the morrow. It was +just a blow, straight between the eyes from fate--that fate who he +had foolishly thought had been kind. + +"Well? Are you going to let me stand here all night?" + +"No, of course not. Wait a minute--I'm thinking." He spoke in a +quick, hoarse tone, a tone alas! which Kitty at one time in their +joint lives had come to associate with deep feeling on his part, +in those days when she used to come and tell the lonely man of her +sorrows, of her temptations, and of her vague, upward aspirations.... + +She lurched a little towards him. Everything was going far better +than she could have hoped; why, Sherston did not seem angry, hardly +annoyed, at her unheralded return! + +Suddenly he felt her thin, strong arms closing round his body, in +a horrible vice-like grip-- + +"Don't touch me!" he cried fiercely; and making a greater physical +effort than he would have thought himself capable of, he shook +himself violently free. + +He saw her reel backwards and fall, with a queer grotesque movement, +head over heels down the stone steps. The dull thud her body made +as she fell on the half landing echoed up and down the bare well +of the staircase. + +Sherston's heart smote him. He had not meant to do THAT. Then +he reminded himself bitterly that drunkards always fall soft. She +could not have hurt herself much, falling that little way. + +He waited a few moments; then, as she made no effort to raise +herself, he walked down, slowly, unwillingly, towards her. From +the little he could see in the dim light cast from above, Kitty +was lying very oddly, all in a heap, her head against the wall. + +He knelt down by her side. + +"Kitty," he said quietly. "Try and get up. I'm sorry if I hurt +you, but you took me by surprise. I--I--" + +But there came no word, no moan even, in answer. + +He felt for her limp hand, and held it a moment, but it lay in his, +inertly. Filled with a queer, growing fear, he struck a match, +bent down, and saw, for the first time that night, her face. It +looked older, incredibly older, than when he had last seen it, five +years ago! The hair near the temples had turned gray. Her eyes +were wide open--and even as he looked earnestly into her face, +her jaw suddenly dropped. He started back with an extraordinary +feeling of mingled fear and repugnance. + +Striking match after match as he went, he rushed up again into his +chambers, and looked about for a hand mirror.... He failed to find +one, and at last he brought down his shaving glass. + +With shaking hands he laid it close against that hideous, gaping +mouth, for five long dragging minutes. The glass remained clear, +untarnished. + +Putting a great constraint on himself, he forced himself to move +her head. And the truth came to him! In that strange short fall +Kitty had broken her neck. For the second time he was free. But +this time her death, instead of cutting a knot, bound him as with +cords of twisted steel to shame, and yes, to deadly peril. + +Slowly he got up from his knees. Unless he went and jumped over +the parapet of the Embankment into the river--a possibility which +he grimly envisaged for a few moments--he knew that the only thing +to do was to go off at once for the police, and make, as the saying +is, a clean breast of it. After all he was innocent--innocent of +even a secret desire of encompassing Kitty's death. But would it +be possible to make even the indifferent, when aware of all the +circumstances, believe that? Yes, there was one such human being--and +as he thought of her his heart glowed with gratitude to God for +having made her known to him. Helen would believe him, Helen would +understand everything--and nothing else really mattered. It was +curious how the thought of Helen, which had been agony an hour ago, +now filled him with a kind of steadfast comfort. + + +As Sherston turned to go down the staircase, there came the distant +sound of the bursting of a motor tire, and the unhappy man started +violently. His nerves were now in pieces, but he remembered, as +he went down the stone steps, to feel in one of his pockets, to be +sure he had what he so seldom used, a card-case on him. + +On reaching the front door he was surprised to find it open, and +to see just within the hall, their white caps and pale faces dimly +illumined by the little light that glimmered in from outside, two +trained nurses with bags in their hands. They were talking eagerly, +and took no notice of him as he passed. + +For a moment Sherston wondered whether he ought to tell them of +the terrible accident which had just happened upstairs--but after +a momentary hesitation he decided that it would be better to go +straight off to the Police Station. Already his excited brain saw +a nurse standing in the witness-box at a trial where he himself +stood in the dock on a charge of murder. So, past the two whispering +women, he hurried out into the darkness. + +Even in the grievous state of mental distress in which he now found +himself, Sherston noticed that the street lamps were turned so low +that there only shone out, under their green shades, pallid spots +of light. And as he stumbled across the curb of the pavement, he +told himself, with irritation, that that was really rather absurd! +More accidents proceeded from the absence of light than were ever +likely to be caused by the Zeppelins. + +Perforce walking warily, he hastened towards the Strand. There +was less traffic than usual, fewer people, too, on the pavement, +but it was just after nine o'clock, the quietest time of the evening. + +Suddenly a huge column of flame shot up some thirty yards in front +of him, and then (it seemed to all to happen in a moment) a line of +men, police, and special constables, spread across the thoroughfare +in which he now was, barring off the Strand. + +Sherston quickened his footsteps. For a moment his own disturbed +and fearsome thoughts were banished by the extraordinary and exciting +sight before him. Higher and higher mounted the pillar of fire, +throwing a sinister glare on the buildings, high and low, new and +old, round about it. "Good Heavens!" he exclaimed involuntarily. +"Is that the Lyceum on fire?" A policeman near whom he was now +standing, turned round and said shortly, "Can't say, I'm sure, +sir." + +He witnessed in the next few minutes a strange scene of confusion, +of hurrying and scurrying hither and thither. Where there had +been almost pitch darkness, was now a glittering, brilliant bath +of light, in which the figures of men and women, moving swiftly to +and fro, appeared like animated silhouettes. But even as he stared +before him at the extraordinary Hogarthian vision, the roadway and +the pavements of the Strand became strangely and suddenly deserted, +while he began to hear the hoot, hoot of the fire-engines galloping +to the scene of the disaster. Before him the line of police and +of special constables remained unbroken, and barred his further +progress. + +"I don't want to go past the theater," he whispered urgently. "I +only want to get to Bow Street, as quickly as possible, on a very +important matter." He slipped the half-crown he had meant to give +the waif he had taken Kitty to be, into a policeman's hand, and +though the man shook his head he let him through. + +Sherston shot down the Strand, to his left. Almost filling up the +steep, lane-like street which leads down to the Savoy Hotel, were +rows of ambulances, groups of nurses, and Red Cross men, and absorbed +though he was once more in his own sensations, and the thought of +the terrible ordeal that lay in front of him, Sherston yet found +himself admiring the quickness with which they had been rushed +hither. + +On he went, and crossed the empty roadway. How strange that so +little attention was being paid to the fire! Instead of a hurrying +mob of men and women, the Strand was now extraordinarily empty, +both of people and of vehicles, and now and again he could hear +the sound of knocking, of urgent knocking, as if some one who has +been locked out, and is determined to be let in. + +He strode quickly along, feeling his way somewhat, for apart from +the reflection of the red sky, it was pitch dark in the side streets, +and soon he stood before the Police Station. The big old-fashioned +building was just within the outer circle of light cast by the huge +fire whose fierceness seemed to increase rather than diminish, and +Sherston suddenly espied an Inspector standing half in the open +door. "I've some very urgent business," he said hurriedly. "Could +you come inside for a moment, and take down a statement?" + +"What's your business about?" said the man sharply, and in the +wavering light Sherston thought his face looked oddly distraught +and pale. + +"There's a woman lying dead at No. 19 Peter the Great Terrace," +began Sherston curtly-- + +The man bent forward. "There's many women already lying dead about +here, sir, and likely to be more--babies and children too--before +we're through with this hellish business!" he said grimly. "If +she's dead, poor thing, we can do nothing for her. But if you +think there's any life left in her--well, you'll find plenty of +ambulances, as well as doctors and nurses, down Strand way. But +if I was you, I'd wait a bit before going back. They're still +about--" and even as he uttered the word "about" he started back +into the shelter of the building, pulling Sherston roughly in with +him as he did so, and there came a loud, dull report, curiously +analogous to that which a quarter of an hour ago--it seemed hours +rather than minutes--Sherston had taken for the bursting of a +motor tire. But this time the sound was at once followed by that +of shattered glass, and of falling masonry. + +"Good God!" he cried. "What's that?" + +"A goodish lot of damage this time, I should think," said the +Inspector thoughtfully. "Though they're doing wonderfully little +considering how they--" + +"THEY?" + +"Zeppelins, of course, sir! Why didn't you guess that? They say +there're two over us if not three." Then in a voice, so changed, +so charged with relief, that his own mother would not have known +it for the same, the man exclaimed, "Look up, sir--there they are! +And they're off--the hellish things!" And Sherston throwing up +his head, did indeed see what looked to his astonished eyes like +two beautiful golden trout swimming across the sky just above him. + +As he stood awestruck, fascinated at the astounding sight, he also +saw what looked like a falling star shoot down from one of the +Zeppelins, and again there fell on his ears that strange explosive +thud. + +The man by his side uttered a stifled oath. "There's another--let's +hope it's the last in this district!" he exclaimed. "See! They're +off down the river now!" + +Even as he said the words the space in front of the Police Station +was suddenly filled with a surging mass of people, men, women, +even children, making their way Strandward, to see all that there +was to see, now that the immediate danger was past. + +"If I were you, sir, I think I'd stay here quietly a bit, till +the crowd has thinned, and been driven back. I take it you can't +do that poor woman of whom you spoke just now any good--I take it +she's dead, sir?" the Inspector spoke very feelingly. + +"Yes, she certainly is dead," said Sherston dully. + +"Well, I must be going now, but if you like to stay here a while, +I'm sure you're welcome, sir." + +"No," said Sherston. "I think I'll go out and see whether I can +do anything to help." + +The two passed out into the roadway, and took their place among the +slowly moving people there, the Inspector make a way for himself +and his companion through the excited, talkative, good-humored +Cockney crowd. "There it is! Can't you see it? Up there just +like a little yellow worm." "There's naught at all! You've got +the cobble-wobbles!" and then a ripple of laughter. + +Sherston was borne along with the human stream, and with that stream +he suddenly found himself stopped at the westward end of Wellington +Street. Over the heads of the people before him--they were, oddly +enough, mostly women--he could see the column of flame still burning +steadily upwards, and scarcely affected at all by the huge jets of +water now playing on it. + +It seemed to start from the ground, a massive pillar of fire, and +all round it was an empty space--a zone no human being could approach +for fear of being at once roasted and shriveled up to death. "The +bomb got down to the big gas main," observed a voice close to him. +"It'll be days before they get THAT fire under!" + +He, Sherston, felt marvelously calm. This strange, awful visitation +had made for him a breathing space in which to reconsider what he +had better do, and suddenly he decided that he would go and consult +Mr. Pomeroy. But before doing that he must force himself to go +back and fetch certain documents which fortunately he had kept.... + +He made his way, with a great deal of difficulty--for it was as +if all London had by now flocked to this one afflicted area--by +a circuitous way to the Strand. Tramping through a six-inch-deep +flood of broken glass he made his way by the Embankment and the +Waterloo Bridge steps to the upper level, that leading to, and +past, Peter the Great Terrace. + +A vast host was now westward from over the river, and he felt the +electric currents of joyous excitement, retrospective fear, and, +above all, of eager, almost ferocious, curiosity, linking up rapidly +about him. The rough and ready cordon of special constables seemed +powerless to dam the human tide, and caught in that tide's eddies, +Sherston struggled helplessly. + +"Let me through," he shouted at last. "I MUST get through!" + +"You can't get through just here--there's a house been struck in +Peter the Great Terrace! 'Twas the last bomb did it!" + +Sherston uttered a groan--Ah! If only that were true! But he had +just now glanced up and seen the row of big substantial eighteenth +century houses, of which his was the end one, solidly outlined +against the star-powdered sky, though every pane of glass had been +blown out. + +Then some one turned round. "It's the corner house been struck. +Bomb fell right through the skylight. They've sent for the firemen +to see what damage was done. You can't see anything from this +side." + +THROUGH THE SKYLIGHT? + +Sherston was a powerful man. He forced his way, he did not know +how, blindly, to the very front of the crowd. + +Yes, there were two firemen standing by the low, sunk-in door, that +door through which he had come and gone hundreds, nay thousands, of +times, in his life. So much was true, but everything else was as +usual. "I live here," he said hoarsely. "Will you let me through?" + +The fireman shook his head. "No, sir. I can't let any one through. +And if I did 'twould be no good. The staircase is clean gone--a +great big stone staircase, too! It's all in bits, just like a lot +of rubble. The front of the house ain't touched, but the center +and behind--well, sir, you never did see such a sight!" + +"Any one hurt?" asked Sherston in a strangled tone. He felt a +most extraordinary physical sensation of lightness--of--of--was it +dissolution?--sweep over his mind and body. He heard as in a far +away dream the answer to his question. + +"There was no one in the house at all, from what we can make out. +The caretaker had a lucky escape, or he'd be buried alive by now, +but he and his missus had already gone out to see the sights." + +A moment later the fireman was holding Sherston in his big brawny +arms, and shouting, "An ambulance this way--send a long a nurse +please--gentleman's fainted!" The crowd parted eagerly, respectfully. +"Poor feller!" exclaimed one woman in half piteous, half furious +tones. "Those damned Germans--they've gone and destroyed the poor +chap's little all. I heard him explaining just now as what he +lived here!" + +[signed]Maid Belloc Lowndes + + + + + +A Canadian Soldier's Dominion Day at Shorncliffe + + + + +"Is there a holiday next Thursday?" inquired a Canadian officer of +an English confrere. + +"A holiday? Not that I know of. Why should there be?" + +"Why? Because it's Dominion Day." + +"Dominion Day?" blankly echoed the English Officer. + +"Yes! Did you never hear of it, you benighted Islander?" + +"I really am afraid not," replied the English Officer, convicted +by the Canadian's tone of nothing less than crime. "Just what is +it?" + +"Perhaps you have never heard of Canada?" + +"Well, RATHER, we hear something of Canada these days." + +Then, as the light began to break in on his darkened soul, "Ah, I +see, that is your Canadian National Day, is it not?" + +"It is. And the question is, 'Are we going to have a holiday?'" + +"Well, you see the King specially requested that there be no holiday +on his birthday." + +"The King's birthday! Oh, that's right--but this is different, +you see." + +The Englishman looked mildly surprised. + +"Oh, the King's all right," continued the Canadian, answering +the other's look, "we think a lot of him these days. But--you +know--Dominion Day--" + +"I hope you may get it, old chap, but I fancy we are in for the +usual grind." + +The Canadian officer had little objection to the grind nor had +his men. The Canadians eat up work. But somehow it did not seem +right that the 1st of July slide past without celebration of any +kind. He had memories of that day, of its early morning hours when +a kid he used to steal down stairs to let off a few firecrackers +from his precious bunch just to see how they would go. Latterly he +had not cared for the fireworks part of it except for the Kiddies. +But somehow he was conscious of a new interest in Canada's birthday. +Perhaps because Canada was so far away and the Kiddies would be +wanting some one to set off their crackers. It was good to be in +England, the beautiful old motherland, but it was not Canada and +it did not seem right that Canada's birthday should be allowed to +pass unmarked. So too through the Commandant of the Shorncliffe +Camp, a right good Canadian he. + +"I have arranged a Tattoo for the evening," he announced in +conversation with the Canadian Officer the day before the First. + +"What about a holiday, Colonel?" The Commandant shook his head. + +"Well, then, a half-holiday?" + +"No. At least," remembering the officer's ancestry and that he +was a Canadian Highlander, "not officially, whateffer." + +"Shall I get a rope for the Tug of War, do you think?" + +"I think," replied the Commandant slowly with a wink in his left +eye, "you might get the rope." + +This was sufficient encouragement for the 43rd to go on with and +so the rope was got and vaulting pole and standards with other +appurtenances of a day of sports. And the preparations went bravely +on. So also went on the Syllabus which for Dominion Day showed, +Company Drill, Instruction Classes, Lectures, Physical for the +forenoon, Bayonet fighting and Route marching for the afternoon. + +"All right, let her go," and so the fields and plains, the lanes and +roads are filled with Canadian soldiers celebrating their Dominion +Day, drilling, bayonet fighting, route marching, while overhead +soars thrumming the watchful airship, Britain's eye. For Britain +has a business on hand. Just yonder stretches the misty sea where +unsleeping lie Britain's men of war. Beyond the sea bleeding +Belgium has bloodsoaked ground crying to Heaven long waiting but +soon at length to hear. And France fiercely, proudly proving her +right to live an independent nation. And Germany. Germany! the +last word in intellectual power, in industrial achievement, in +scientific research, aye and in infamous brutality! Germany, the +might modern Hun, the highly scienced barbarian of this twentieth +Century, more bloody than Attila, more ruthless than his savage +hordes. Germany doomed to destruction because freedom is man's +inalienable birthright, man's undying passion. Germany! fated to +execration by future generations for that she ahs crucified the +Son of God afresh and put Him to an open shame. Germany! for the +balking of whose insolent and futile ambition, and for the crushing of +whose archaic military madness we Canadians are tramping on this +Dominion Day these English fields and these sweet English lanes 5,000 +miles from our Western Canada which dear land we can not ever see +again if this monstrous threatening cloud be not removed forever +from our sky. For this it is that 100,000 Canadian citizens have +left their homes with 500,000 eager more to follow if needed, other +sons of the Empire knit in one firm resolve that once more Freedom +shall be saved for the race as by their sires in other days. + +But the Tattoo is on--the ground chosen is the little plateau within +the lines of the 43rd just below the Officer's tents, flanked on +one side by a sloping grassy hill on the other by a row of ancient +trees shading a little hidden brook that gurgles softly to itself +all day long. On the sloping hill the soldiers of the various +battalions lie stretched at ease in khaki colored kilts and trews, +caps and bonnets, except the men of the 43rd who wear the dark +blue Glengarry. In the center of the plateau a platform invites +attention and on each side facing it rows of chairs for officers +and their friends, among the latter some officers' wives, happy +creatures and happy officers to have them so near and not 5,000 +miles away. + +The Commandant has been called away on a sad business, a soldier's +funeral, hence the Junior Major of the 43rd as chairman of that +important and delicately organized Committee of the Bandmasters and +Pipe Majors of the various battalions is in charge of the program. +Major Grassie is equal to the occasion, quiet, ready resourceful. +With him associated is Major Watts, Adjutant of the 9th, as +Musical Director; in peaceful times organist and choir master of +a Presbyterian congregation in Edmonton far away. + +Bang! Bang! Bang! +Bang! Bang! Bang! + +The drums in the distance begin to throb and from the eastern side +of the plain march in the band of the 9th playing their regimental +march, "Garry Owen," none the less. From the west the band of the +11th, then that of the 12th, finally (for the 43rd Band is away +on leave, worse luck) the splendid Band of the 49th, each playing +its own Regimental march which is taken up by the bands already +in position. Next comes the massed buglers of all the regiments, +their thrilling soaring notes rising above the hills, and take their +stand beside the bands already in place. Then a pause, when from +round the hill shoulder rise wild and weird sounds. The music of +the evening, to Scottish hearts and ears, has begun. It is the +fine pipe band of the 42nd Royal Highlanders from Montreal, khaki +clad, kilts and bonnets, and blowing proudly and defiantly their +"Wha saw the Forty-twa." Again a pause and from the other side +of the hill gay with tartan and blue bonnets, their great blooming +drones gorgeous with flowing streamers and silver mountings, in +march the 43rd Camerons. "Man, would Alex Macdonald be proud of +his pipes to-day," says a Winnipeg Highlander for these same pipes +are Alex's gift to the 43rd, and harkening to these great booming +drones I agree. + +Ah these pipes! These Highland pipes! Truly as one of them said, +"Pipers are no just like other people!" Blowing their "Pilrock +of Donald Dhu" they swing into line, mighty and magnificent. Last +comes the brave little pipe band of the 49th. This battalion has +one Scotch company from Edmonton, which insisted on bringing its +pipe band along. Why not? "The Blue Bonnets" is their tune and +finely they ring it out. Now they are all in place, Bands, Bugle +and Pipes. The massed Bands strike up our National Song, and all +the soldiers spring to their feet and sing "Oh, Canada." A little +high but our hearts were in it. And so the program goes on. Single +bands and massed bands with solos from French Horns, Trombones and +Cornets, varied delightfully with the Highland Fling by Pipe Major +Johnson of the 42nd, and the Sword Dance by Piper Reid of the 43rd +followed by an encore, the "Shean Rheubs" which I defy any mere +Sassenach to pronounce or to dance, at least as Piper Heid of the +twinkling feet danced it that night. For he did it "in the style +of Willie Maclennan," as a piper said, "the best of his day and +they have not matched him yet." The massed pipe bands play "The +79th's Farewell at Gibraltar." Forty-one pipers and every man +blowing his best. "Aye man, it is grand hearing you," said a man +from the north. Colonel Moore of the 9th, on a minute's warning, +makes a fine speech instinct with patriotic sentiment and calls for +three cheers for Canada. He got three and a tiger and "a tiger's +pup." Major Grassie in another speech neat and to the point thanks +those who had helped to celebrate our Dominion Day and once more +calls for cheers and gets them. Then the "First Post" warns us that +we are soldiers and under orders. The massed bands play "Nearer +My God to Thee." Full and tender the long drawn notes of the +great hymn rise and fall on the evening air, the soldiers joining +reverently. The Chaplain of the 43rd congratulates the Commandment +upon the happy suggestion of a Tattoo, the Chairman upon his very +successful program and all the Company upon a very happy celebration of +our national holiday--then a word about our Day and all it stands +for, a word about our Empire, our Country, our Kiddies at home, +another word of thanks to the Committee for the closing hymn so +eminently appropriate to their present circumstances and then God +bless our King, God bless our Empire, God bless our Great Cause +and God bless our dear Canada. Good night. + +The "Last Post" sounds. Its piercing call falls sharp and startling +upon the silent night. Long after we say "Good night" that last +long-drawn note high and clear with its poignant pathos lingers in +our hearts. The Dominion Day celebration is over. + +[signed]Ralph Connor + + + + + +Simple as Day + + + + +It was among the retorts and test-tubes of his physical laboratory +that we were privileged to interview the Great Scientist. His +back was towards us when we entered. With characteristic modesty +he kept it so for some time after our entry. Even when he turned +round and saw us his face did not react off us as we should have +expected. + +He seemed to look at us, if such a thing were possible, without +seeing us, or, at least, without wishing to see us. + +We handed him our card. + +He took it, read it, dropped it into a bowlful of sulphuric acid, +and then, with a quiet gesture of satisfaction, turned again to +his work. + +We sat for some time behind him. "This then," we thought to +ourselves (we always think to ourselves when we are left alone) +"is the man, or rather is the back of the man, who has done more" +(here we consulted the notes given us by our editor) "to revolutionize +our conception of atomic dynamics than the back of any other man." + +Presently the Great Scientist turned towards us with a sigh that +seemed to our ears to have a note of weariness in it. Something, +we felt, must be making him tired. + +"What can I do for you?" he said. + +"Professor," we answered, "we have called upon you in response to +an overwhelming demand on the part of the public--" + +The Great Scientist nodded. + +"--to learn something of your new researches and discoveries in--" +(here we consulted a minute card which we carried in our pocket) +"--in radio-active-emanations which are already becoming--" (we +consulted our card again) "--a household word--" + +The professor raised his hand as if to check us-- + +"I would rather say," he murmured, "helio-radio-active--" + +"So would we," we admitted, "much rather--" + +"After all," said the Great Scientist, "helium shares in the most +intimate degree the properties of radium. So, too, for the matter +of that," he added in afterthought, "do thorium, and borium!" + +"Even borium!" we exclaimed, delighted, and writing rapidly in our +note book. Already we saw ourselves writing up as our headline, +"Borium Shares Properties of Thorium." + +"Just what is it," said the Great Scientist, "that you want to +know?" + +"Professor," we answered, "what our journal wants is a plain and +simple explanation, so clear that even our readers can understand +it, of the new scientific discoveries in radium. We understand +that you possess more than any other man the gift of clear and +lucid thought--" + +The Professor nodded. + +"--and that you are able to express yourself with greater simplicity +than any two men now lecturing." + +The Professor nodded again. + +"Now, then," we said, spreading our notes on our knee, "go at it. +Tell us, and through us, tell a quarter of a million anxious readers +just what all these new discoveries are about." + +"The whole thing," said the Professor, warming up to his work as +he perceived from the motions of our face and ears our intelligent +interest, "is simplicity itself. I can give it to you in a word--" + +"That's it," we said. "Give it to us that way." + +"It amounts, if one may boil it down to a phrase--" + +"Boil it, boil it," we interrupted. + +"--amounts, if one takes the mere gist of it--" + +"Take it," we said, "take it." + +"--amounts to the resolution of the ultimate atom." + +"Ha!" we exclaimed. + +"I must ask you first to clear your mind," the Professor continued, +"of all conception of ponder able magnitude." + +We nodded. We had already cleared our minds of this. + +"In fact," added the Professor, with what we thought a quiet note +of warning in his voice, "I need hardly tell you that what we are +dealing with must be regarded as altogether ultra-microscopic." + +We hastened to assure the professor that, in accordance with the +high standards of honor represented by our journal, we should of +course regard anything that he might say as ultra-microscopic and +treat it accordingly. + +"You say, then," we continued, "that the essence of the problem is +the resolution of the atom. Do you think you can give us any idea +of what the atom is?" + +The professor looked at us searchingly. + +We looked back at him, openly and frankly. The moment was critical +for our interview. Could he do it? Were we the kind of person +that he could give it to? Could we get it if he did? + +"I think I can," he said. "Let us begin with the assumption that +the atom is an infinitesimal magnitude. Very good. Let us grant, +then, that though it is imponderable and indivisible it must have +a spatial content? You grant me this?" + +"We do," we said, "we do more than this, we GIVE it to you." + +"Very well. If spatial, it must have dimension: if dimension--form: +let us assume 'ex hypothesi' the form to be that of a spheroid and +see where it leads us." + +The professor was now intensely interested. He walked to and from +in his laboratory. His features worked with excitement. We worked +ours, too, as sympathetically as we could. + +"There is no other possible method in inductive science," he added, +"than to embrace some hypothesis, the most attractive that one can +find, and remain with it--" + +We nodded. Even in our own humble life after our day's work we +had found this true. + +"Now," said the Professor, planting himself squarely in front of +us, "assuming a spherical form, and a spatial content, assuming the +dynamic forces that are familiar to us and assuming--the thing is +bold, I admit--" + +We looked as bold as we could. + +"--assuming that the IONS, or NUCLEI of the atom--I know no better +word--" + +"Neither do we," we said. + +"--that the nuclei move under the energy of such forces what have +we got?" + +"Ha!" we said. + +"What have we got? Why, the simplest matter conceivable. The forces +inside our atom--itself, mind you, the function of a circle--mark +that--" + +We did. + +"--becomes merely a function of pi!" + +The Great Scientist paused with a laugh of triumph. + +"A function of pi!" we repeated with delight. + +"Precisely. Our conception of ultimate matter is reduced to that +of an oblate spheroid described by the revolution of an ellipse on +its own minor axis!" + +"Good heavens!" we said, "merely that." + +"Nothing else. And in that case any further calculation becomes +a mere matter of the extraction of a root." + +"How simple," we murmured. + +"Is it not?" said the Professor. "In fact, I am accustomed, +in talking to my class, to give them a very clear idea, by simply +taking as our root F,--F being any finite constant--" + +He looked at us sharply. We nodded. + +"And raising F to the log of infinity;--I find they apprehend it +very readily." + +"Do they?" we murmured. Ourselves we felt as if the Log of Infinity +carried us to ground higher than what we commonly care to tread +on. + +"Of course," said the Professor, "the Log of Infinity is an Unknown." + +"Of course," we said, very gravely. We felt ourselves here in the +presence of something that demanded our reverence. + +"But still," continued the Professor, almost jauntily, "we can +handle the Unknown just as easily as anything else." + +This puzzled us. We kept silent. We thought it wiser to move on +to more general ground. In any case, our notes were now nearly +complete. + +"These discoveries, then," we said, "are absolutely revolutionary." + +"They are," said the Professor. + +"You have now, as we understand, got the atom--how shall we put +it?--got it where you want it." + +"Not exactly," said the Professor with a sad smile. + +"What do you mean?" we asked. + +"Unfortunately our analysis, perfect though it is, stops short. +We have no synthesis." + +The Professor spoke as in deep sorrow. + +"No synthesis," we moaned. We felt it was a cruel blow. But in +any case our notes were now elaborate enough. We felt that our +readers could do without synthesis. We rose to go. + +"Synthetic dynamics," said the Professor, taking us by the coat, +"is only beginning--" + +"In that case--" we murmured, disengaging his hand-- + +"But wait, wait," he pleaded, "wait for another fifty years--" + +"We will," we said, very earnestly, "but meantime as our paper goes +to press this afternoon we must go now. In fifty years we will +come back." + +"Oh, I see, I see," said the Professor, "you are writing all this +for a newspaper. I see." + +"Yes," we said, "we mentioned that at the beginning." + +"Ah!" said the Professor, "did you? Very possibly. Yes." + +"We Propose," we said, "to feature the article for next Saturday." + +"Will it be long?" he asked. + +"About two columns," we answered. + +"And how much," said the Professor in a hesitating way, "do I have +to pay you to put it in?" + +"How much which?" we asked. + +"How much do I have to pay?" + +"Why, Professor," we begin quickly. Then we checked ourselves. +After all was it right to undeceive him, this quiet, absorbed man +of science with his ideals, his atoms and his emanations? No, a +hundred times no. Let him pay a hundred times. + +"It will cost you," we said very firmly, "ten dollars." + +The Professor began groping among his apparatus. We knew that he +was looking for his purse. + +"We should like also very much," we said, "to insert your picture +along with the article--" + +"Would that cost much?" he asked. + +"No, that is only five dollars." + +The Professor had meantime found his purse. + +"Would it be all right," he began, "--that is, would you mind if +I pay you the money now? I am apt to forget." + +"Quite all right," we answered. We said good-by very gently and +passed out. We felt somehow as if we had touched a higher life. +"Such," we murmured, as we looked about the ancient campus, "are +the men of science: are there, perhaps, any others of them round +this morning that we might interview?" + +[signed]Stephen Leacock + + + + + +The Epic Standpoint in the War + + + + +After more than three years of the War, we are only now beginning +to see it, as it is, in its epic immensity. On the eastern front +it has been too far from us; on the western front it has been too +near us, and we have been too much a part of it, to get any sight +at all of that series of monotonous and monstrous battles, a series +punctuated only by names: Liege, Antwerp, Mons, Ypres, Verdun and +Arras. And if nothing had happened besides the Titanic conflict +of material armaments I believe that we should not yet be anywhere +near realizing its vastness and its significance. + +If we are aware of it now it is because, in the last few months, three +events have happened which are of another order: the abdication +of Constantine, King of Greece, the Russian Revolution, and the +coming of America into the War. + +These three events have adjusted and cleared our vision by giving +us the true perspective and the scale. + +From the standpoint of individuals, even of those few who have lost +nothing personally, who are alive and safe, who have never been +near the trenches, never watched an air-raid, or so much as seen +the inside of a hospital, the War is a monstrous and irreparable +tragedy. + +But from the epic standpoint, it would not have mattered if all the +civilians in Great Britain had been starved to death by submarines, +or burned alive in our beds, so long as the freedom of one country, +even a small country like Greece, was secured forever, let alone +the freedom of a great country like Russia--and let alone the saving +of America's soul. + +For that is what it comes to. + +Somewhere about the sad middle of the War, an American woman, who +is one of the finest American poets, discussed the War with me. +She deplored America's attitude in not coming in with us. + +I said, politely and arrogantly, "Why should she? It isn't HER +War. She'll do us more good by keeping out of it." + +The poet--who would not have called herself a patriot--answered, +"I am not thinking of YOUR good. I am thinking of the good of +America's soul." + +Since August 4th, 1914, England has been energetically engaged +in saving her own soul. Heaven knows we needed salvation! But, +commendable as our action was and is, the fact remains that it +was our own soul that we were saving. We thought, and we cared, +nothing about America's soul. + +In the beginning of the War, when it seemed certain that America +would not come in, we were glad to think that America's body +was untouched, that, while all Europe rolled in blood, so vast +a territory was still at peace, and that the gulf of the Atlantic +kept American men, American women and children, safe from the horror +and agony of war. This was a comparatively righteous attitude. + +Then we found that it was precisely the Atlantic that gave Americans +a taste of our agony and horror. The Atlantic was no safe place for +the American men and women and children who traveled so ingenuously +over it. + +And when for a long time we wondered whether America would or would +not come in, we were still glad; but it was another gladness. We +said to ourselves that we did not want America to come in. We +wanted to win the War without her, even if it took us a little +longer. For by that time we had begun to look on the War as our +and our Allies' unique possession. to fight in it was a privilege +and a glory that we were not inclined to share. + +"America," we said, "is very much better employed in making munitions +for US. Let her go on making them. Let her help our wounded; +let her feed Belgium for us; but let her not come in now and bag +the glory when it is we who have borne the burden and heat of the +battle." + +And this attitude of ours was not righteous. It was egoistic; it was +selfish; it was arrogant. We handed over to America the material +role and hung on tight to the spiritual glory. It was as if we +had asked ourselves, in our arrogance, whether America was able +to drink of the cup that we drank of, and to be baptized with the +baptism of blood which we were baptized withal? + +We had left off thinking even of America's body, and we were not +thinking at all about her soul. + +Then, only a few months ago, she came in, and we were glad. Most +of us were glad because we knew that her coming in would hasten +the coming of peace. But I think that some of us were glad because +America had saved, before everything, her immortal soul. + +And by our gladness we knew more about ourselves then than we had +suspected. We know that, under all our arrogance and selfishness, +there was a certain soreness caused by America's neutrality. + +We did not care much about Spain's or Scandinavia's or Holland's +neutrality, though the Dutch and Scandinavian navies might have +helped enormously to tighten the blockade; but we felt America's +neutrality as a wrong done to our own soul. We were vulnerable +where her honor was concerned. And this, though we knew that she +was justified in holding back; for her course was not a straight +and simple one like ours. No Government on earth has any right +to throw prudence to the winds, and force war on a country that is +both divided and unprepared. + +Yet we were vulnerable, as if our own honor were concerned. + +That is why, however much we honor the men that America sends out +now, and will yet sent out, to fight with us, we honor still more +her first volunteers who came in of their own accord, who threw +prudence to every wind that blows, and sent themselves out, to +fight and to be wounded and to die in the ranks of the Allies. It +may be that some of them loved France more than England. No matter; +they had good cause to love her, since France stands for Freedom; +and it was Freedom that they fought for, soldiers in the greatest +War of Independence that has ever been. + +The coming in of America has not placed upon England a greater or +more sacred obligation than was hers before:--to see to it that +this War accomplishes the freedom, not only of Belgium and Russia +and Poland and Serbia and Roumania, but of Ireland also, and of +Hungary, and, if Germany so wills it, of Germany herself. It is +inconceivable that we should fail; but, if we did fail, we should +now have to answer to the soul and conscience of America as to our +own conscience and our own soul. + +[signed]May Sinclair + + + + + +Eleutherios Venizelos and the Greek Spirit + + + + +Eleutherios Venizelos, the foremost statesman of Greece, the man to +whom in fact she owes that growth in territory and influence that +has come as a result of the first and second Balkanic wars, continues +to exert paramount influence in the solution of the Eastern question, +in spite of the we believe mistaken policy of the Triple Entente +which permitted King Constantine of Greece for so long a period +of time to prevent the direct application of the power of Greece +to and in the successful termination of the war against Germany. +Venizelos has never lost faith in the mission of Greece in the +eastern Mediterranean. He insists that a balance of power in the +Balkans will prevent an all powerful Bulgaria from selling herself +and her neighbors to the Pan-German octopus which has stretched +its tentacles toward Constantinople and on to the Persian Gulf. + +Manfully defending the rights of the Greeks in Macedonia and Asia +Minor as he for long years supported those of the Greeks in Crete, +he demands no aggrandizement of territory by right of conquest, but +only the legitimate control and administration of lands that have +been for ages inhabited by men of Greek blood, of Greek religion, +and (until efforts were made to enforce other speech) of Greek +language. He hates as only Greeks can hate, oppression of all +sorts whether by Turk or Bulgarian or Teuton, and desires to see +democratic principles finally established the world over. Holding +this attitude, he could hardly bring himself to believe that King +Constantine could really be abridging the constitutional right of +the Greeks to control their own external as well as their domestic +policy. When fully convinced that this was the King's intention, +Venezelos cast the die that gave Greek freedom a new birth +in Thessaloniki and the Islands. This movement tardily supported +though it was by the entente, has at last borne fruit in a United +Greece which will do her share in making the East as well as the +West safe for Democracy. The people that fought so nobly in the +revolution of 1821 will know how to give a good account of itself +under the leadership of a sane, courageous and farsighted statesman +like Venizelos. + +The passage which I have chosen to translate is from the closing +words of the speech delivered before the Greek Chamber of Deputies +October 21, 1915. In the first portion of the speech Venizelos +defends the policy of the participation in the campaign against +the Dardanelles, which he had in vain advocated, and the support +of Serbia as against Bulgaria in accordance with the defensive +alliance concluded with that country. + +"I must now once more, and for the last time declare to the +Government which to-day occupies these seats, that it assumes the +very heaviest of responsibilities before the Nation, in under-taking +once more to administer the Government of Greece and to direct its +fortunes in this, the most critical period of its national existence, +with those antiquated conceptions which, if they had prevailed +in 1912, would have kept Greece within her old narrowly confined +borders. These old ideas have been radically condemned not only +by the will of men, but by the very force of circumstances. + +"It is most natural, Gentlemen, that with those conceptions under +which that older political world of Greece acted, a political world +which even to-day by its voting majority controls these seats of +Government, it is natural, I repeat, that such a Government should +be unable to adapt itself to the great, the colossal problems which +have risen since Greece, ceasing to be a small state, and enlarging +its territories, has taken a position in the Mediterranean which, +while exceptionally imposing, is at the same time peculiarly subject +to envy, and is on this account especially dangerous. + +"How dare you, with those old conceptions assume the responsibility +for the course which you have taken, a course which departs widely +from the truth, from the traditional policy of that older Greek +Government, which realized that it is impossible to look for any +really successful Greek policy which runs counter to the power that +controls the sea. + +"How is it possible that you can wish to impose on the country +such conceptions in the face of the repeatedly expressed opinion +of the representatives of the people, and with the actual results +of the recent past before you, a past which, with the sincerity that +distinguishes you, my dear fellow-citizens, you have not hesitated +to condemn, in order to show clearly that in your heart of hearts +you would regard us as better off if we were within the old boundaries +of 1912! + +"But, sirs, the life of individuals and the life of Nations are +governed by one and the same law, the law of perpetual struggle. +This struggle, which is even keener between nations than between +men, is regulated among men by the internal laws of the country, +by the penal code, the police and in general the whole organization +of the state, which, insofar as it is able, defends the weak against +the strong. Although we have to confess that this organization +falls far short of perfection, it does at any rate tend gradually +toward the attainment of its ultimate ideal. But in the struggle +of nations, where there exists an international law, the pitiful +failure of which you have come to know, not only in the immediate +past, but especially during this European war, you must perceive +that it is impossible for small nations to progress and expand +without a perpetual struggle. May I carry this argument one step +further and say that this growth and expansion of Greece is not +destined to satisfy moral requirements alone or to realize the +national and patriotic desire to fulfill obligations toward our +enslaved brothers, but it is actually a necessary pre-requisite to +the continued life of the state. + +"From certain points of view I might have recognized in accordance +with the conceptions of my worthy fellow-citizen that if it had +been a matter of continuing to have Turkey as our neighbor in our +northern frontier, as she formerly was, we could have continued +to live on for many years, especially if we could have brought +ourselves to endure from her from time to time without complaint +certain humiliations and indignities. But now that we have expanded +and become a rival to other Christian powers, against whom, in case +of defeat in war, we can expect no effective intervention on the +part of other nations, from that moment, Gentlemen, the establishment +of Greece as a self-sufficing state, able to defend itself against +its enemies, is for her a question of life and death. + +"Unfortunately, after our successful wars, while we were developing +our new territories and organizing this Greater Greece into a model +new state, as far as lay within our power, we did not have time +to secure at once for the people all the advantages and all the +benefits that should result from extending our frontiers. Our +unfortunate people up to the present has seen only sacrifices to +which it has been subjected for the sake of extending the boundaries +of the state. It has experienced the moral satisfaction of having +freed its brothers, and the national gratification of belonging +to a state which is greater than it was before. From the material +point of view however, from the point of view of economic advantage, +it has not yet been able to clearly discern what profit it has +obtained from the enlargement of the state. It is natural then that +to-day as well, we can only hold before our people the sacrifices +that are once more required of it. These sacrifices, Gentlemen, +according to my personal convictions which are as firmly held +as--humanly speaking--convictions can be, these sacrifices, as +I see them, are destined to create a great and powerful Greece, +which will bring about not an extension of the state by conquest, +but a natural return to those limits within which Hellenism has +been active even from prehistoric times. + +"These sacrifices are to create, I insist, a great, a powerful, +a wealthy Greece, able to develop within its boundaries a live +industrialism competent, from the interests which it would represent, +to enter into commercial treaties with other states on equal terms, +and able finally to protect Greek citizens anywhere on earth: for +the Greek could then proudly say, 'I am a Greek,' with the knowledge +that, happen what may, the state is ready and able to protect him, +no matter where he may be, just as all other great and powerful +states do, and that he will not be subjected to prosecution and be +forced to submit to, the lack of protection as is the Greek subject +to-day. + +"When you take all these things into account, Gentlemen, you will +understand why I said a few moments ago, that I and the whole +liberal party are possessed by a feeling of deepest sadness because +by your policy, you are leading Greece, involuntarily, to be sure, +but none the less certainly, to her ruin. You will induce her to +carry on war perforce, under the most difficult conditions and on +the most disadvantageous terms. + +"The opportunity to create a great and powerful Greece, such an +opportunity as comes to a race only once in thousands of years, +you are thus allowing to be lost forever." + +(Translation, with Notes, by CARROLL N. BROWN) + + + + + +A Tribute to Italy + + + + +Even now, few Americans understand the great service which Italy +has done to the Allied Cause. We have expected some sensational +military achievements, being ourselves unable to realize the immense +difficulty of the military tasks which confronted the Italians. The +truth is that the Terrain over which they have fought is incredibly +difficult. By the sly drawing of the frontier when in 1866 Austria +ceded Venetia to the Italians, every pass, every access, from Italy +into Austria was left in the hands of the Austrians. Some of those +passes are so intricate and narrow that an Austrian regiment could +defend them against an army. And yet, in two years' fighting +the Italians have advanced and have astonished the world by their +exploits in campaigning above the line of perpetual snow and among +crags as unpromising as church steeples. + +On lower levels they have captured Gorizia, a feat unparalleled by +any thus far accomplished by the English and French on the West. +The defense of Verdun remains, of course, the supreme and sublime +achievement of defensive action, but the taking of Gorizia is thus +far the most splendid work of the Allied offensive. + +I do not propose, however, to speak in detail of the Italians' +military service. Suffice it to say that they have proved themselves +excellent fighters who combine the rare qualities of dash and +endurance. I wish to speak of the vital contribution Italy has +made from the beginning of the War to the Great Cause--the cause +of Democracy and of Civilization. + +When Italy at the end of July, 1914, refused to join Austria and +Germany she announced to the world that the war which the Teutons +planned was an aggressive war, and by this announcement she stamped +on the Pan-German crimes that verdict which every day since has +confirmed and which will be indelibly written on the pages of +history. + +For Italy was a partner of Germany and Austria in the Triple Alliance +and she knew from inside evidence that the Teutonic Powers were +not acting on the defensive. Accordingly, her decision had the +greatest significance, and when before the actual outbreak of the +war she privately informed France that she had no intention of +attacking that country she relieved the French of great suspense. +If Italy had joined the Teutons the French would have been required +to guard their southeastern frontier by a large force, perhaps +not less than a million men, which were now set free to oppose the +German attack in the north. + +The world did not understand why Italy waited until May, 1915, before +declaring war on Austria, but the reason was plain. Exhausted by +their war in Tripoli the Italians had neither munitions nor food +and their soldiers even lacked uniforms. It took nine months, +therefore, to prepare for war. Another year passed before Italy +could undertake to face Germany; for the Germans had so thoroughly +honeycombed Italy's commerce, industry and finances that it took +two years for the Italians to oust the Germans and to train men to +replace them. + +By these delays, which seemed to the outside world suspicious, +Italy did another service. If she had plunged in prematurely as +the Allies and her friends besought her to do she would have been +speedily overwhelmed. Imagine what a blow that would have been +to the Allied Cause, especially coming so early in the War. Her +prudence saved Europe this disaster. Had Northern Italy become enslaved +the Teutonic forces could have threatened France on the southeast, +and with Genoa as a port they could have made the Mediterranean +much more perilous for the Allied ships and transportation. It is +not for the United States, a country of over one hundred million +population, and yet checked if not intimidated by a small body of +German plotters and their accomplices, to look scornfully on Italy's +long deferred entrance into the War. The Pro-German element in Italy +was relatively stronger than here and the elements which composed +it--the Blacks, the Germanized financiers and business men, many +nobles and the Vatican--openly opposed making war on the Kaiser. +In spite of all these difficulties, in spite of the very great +danger she ran, because if the Germans win they threaten to restore +the Papal temporal power, and the Austrians, Italy stood by the +Allies. + +For her to be untrue tot he cause of Democracy would be almost +unthinkable; the great men who made her a united nation were all +in different ways apostles of Democracy. Mazzini was its preacher; +Garibaldi fought for it on many fields, in South America, in Italy +and in France; Victor Emmanuel was the first democratic sovereign +in Europe in the nineteenth century; Cavour, beyond all other +statesmen of his age, believed in Liberty, religious, social and +political and applied it to his vast work of transforming thirty +million Italians out of Feudalism, and the stunting effects of +autocracy into a nation of democrats. + +It was impossible also for Italy, the ancient home of Civilization, +the mother of arts and refinement, to accept the standard of the +Huns which the Germans embraced and imposed upon their allies. +The conflict between the Germans and the Italians was instinctive, +temperamental. For a thousand years it took the form of a struggle +between the German Emperors and the Italian Popes for mastery. The +Germans strove for political domination, for temporal power; the +Italians strove, at least in ideal, in order that the spiritual +should not be the vassal of the physical. It was soul force against +brute force. Looking at it as deeply as possible we see that the +Italians, a race sprung out of ancient culture, mightily affected +but not denatured by Christianity, repudiated the Barbarian ideals +of Teutonism. Men whose ancestors had worshiped Jupiter and Apollo, +and who were themselves worshipping the Christian God, Madonna and +the great saints, had no spiritual affinity with men whose ancestors +could conceive of no Deities higher than Thor, Odin and the other +rough, crude, and unmannered denizens of the Northern Walhalla. So +Italy stood by Civilization. Her risk was great, but great shall +be her guerdon in the approval of her own conscience and the +gratitude of posterity. + +[signed] William Roscoe Thayer + +Sept. 1, 1917. + + + + + +Al Generale Cadorna + + + + +"Io ho quel che ho donato." + + +Questo che in Te si compie anno di sorte, + l'Italia l'alza in cima della spada + mirando al segno; e la sua rossa strada + ne brilla insino alle sue alpine porte. +Tu tendi la potenza della morte + come un arco tra il Vodice e l'Hermada; + varchi l'Isonzo indomito ove guada + la tua Vittoria col tuo pugno forte. +Giovine sei, rinato dalla terra + sitibonda, balzato su dal duro + Carso col fiore dei tuio fanti imberbi. +Questo, che in te si compie, anno di guerra + splenda da te, avido del futuro, + e al domani terribile ti serbi. + +Gabriele D'Annunzio + + + + + +To General Cadorna On his 69th birthday, September 11, 1917 + + + + +"What I have given, that have I" + + +This fateful year which thou fulfillest so, + Our Italy, her cherisht goal in sight, + Exalts upon her sword; and gleameth bright + Her ruddy pathway to the gates of snow. +The power of death thou bendest like a bow + 'Twixt Vodice and bleak Hermada's height; + And Victory, guided by thy hand of might, + Thro' wild Isonzo forth doth fording go. +Reborn from lands of drought, a youth art thou, + Upheaved by rugged Carso suddenly + With all the lads of thine advancing throng. +This bloody year which thou fulfillest now, + O may it, onward pressing, shine with thee + And keep thee for the fearful morrow strong! + +Poetical Version by + +[signed] C.H. Grangent + + + + + +The Voice of Italy + + + + +In the great turmoil of nations it rings with a tone peculiarly +true: for Italy is the country that found herself confronted, +at the outbreak of the great war, by perhaps the most perplexing +situation of any of the present allies. If she had chosen to +follow the way which lay open and easy before her, the war would +have long since been decided in favor of the Central Powers. Italy +had entered the Triple Alliance as a clean contract, for an honest +defensive purpose. It was never intended for a weapon of aggression. +When Austria and Germany decided upon the outrage to Serbia that +was the cause of the conflagration, they did not consult Italy +about it, knowing well that Italy would not have consented; in +fact, would have denounced it to the world. But they hoped that +by surprising her with the "fait accompli," she would have to yield +and follow. Italy chose the long hard trail instead, incredibly long, +inconceivably hard, but morally right, and it has been made clear +once more in the history of humanity, that "Latin" and "barbaric" +are two incompatible terms. + +True enough, Italy felt in her own heart the cry of her long-oppressed +children from Istria, the Trentino and Dalmatia ringing just as +loud as that of the children of Belgium and the women of Serbia; +but who can blame her if history had it so, that the sudden outrage +on other nations was but the counterpart of the long-continued +provocation to the Italian nationality, when in the Italian +provinces subject to Austrian rule, the mere singing of a song in +the mother-language brought women to jail and children to fustigation; +and a bunch of white, red and green flowers might cause an indictment +of high treason? National aspirations and international honor +equally called forth to Italy, and Italy leaped forth in answer as +soon as she could make her way clear to the fight. She took it up +where the political pressure brought to bear upon her in the name +of European peace in 1866 had compelled the fathers of the present +leaders to retire from combat. + +General Luigi Cadorna leads the offensive of 1917 where his father +Count Raffaele Cadoran found it stopped by diplomatic arrangements +in 1866; Garibaldi's nephew avenges on the Col di Lana his "obbedisco" +from the Trentino; Francesco Pecori-Giraldi's son repels from +Asiago the sons of those Austrians who wounded him at Montanara and +imprisoned him at Mantova. Gabriele d'Annunzio, mature in years +and wonderfully youthful in spirit, takes up the national ideals of +the great master Giosuè Carducci (who died before he could see the +dream of his life realized with the reunion of Trento and Trieste, +Istria and the Italian cities of Dalmatia, to the Motherland); and +becomes the speaker of the nation expectant in Genoa and assembled +in Rome to decree the end of the strain of Italian neutrality which +has to its credit the magnificent rebellion to the unscrupulous +intrigues of Prince von Bulow, and the releasing of five hundred +thousand French soldiers from the frontier of Savoy to help in the +battle of the Marne. + +In D'Annunzio's "Virgins of the Rocks" the protagonist expresses +his belief that oratory is a weapon of war, and that it should be +unsheathed, so to speak, in all its brilliancy only with the definite +view of rousing people to action. Surely no man ever had a better +chance of wielding the brilliant weapon than D'Annunzio, in his +triumphal progress through Italy during that fateful month of May, +1915, when he uttered against neutralism and pacifism, germanophilism +and petty parliamentarism, the "quo usque tandem" of the newest +Italy. + +Nor can we forget how Premier Antonio Salandra in his memorable +speech from the Capitol, expressed the living and the fighting +spirit of Italy, a spirit of strength and humanity, when he said: +"I cannot answer in kind the insult that the German chancellor +heaps upon us: the return to the primordial barbaric stage is so +much harder for us, who are twenty centuries ahead of them in the +history of civilization." To support his, came the quiet utterances +of Sonnino (whose every word is a statement of Italian right and +a crushing indictment of Austro-German felony) "proclaiming still +once the firm resolution of Italy, to continue to fight courageously +with all her might, and at any sacrifice, until her most sacred +national aspirations are fulfilled alongside with such general +conditions of independence, safety and mutual respect between nations +as can alone form the basis of a durable peace, and represent the +very "raison d'être" of the contract that binds us with our Allies." + +This is the voice of right: the voice of victory which upholds it +is registered frequently in the admirable war-bulletins of General +Cadorna, than which nothing more Caesarian has been written in the +Latin world since the days of Caesar. The simple words follow with +which the taking of Gorizia was announced to the nation. + + +"August ninth. + +..."Trenches and dugouts have been found, full of enemy corpses: +everywhere arms and ammunition and material of all kinds were +abandoned by the routed opponent. Toward dusk, sections of the +brigades Casale and Pavia, waded through the Isonzo, bridges having +been destroyed by he enemy, and settled strongly on the left bank. +A column of cavalry and 'bersaglieri ciclisti' was forthwith started +in pursuit beyond the river." + + +Now, the voice of Italy is thundering down from the Stelvio to the +sea, echoed by forty thousand shells a day on the contested San +Gabriele: a mighty thing indeed, the voice of Italy at war; a +thing of which all Italians may well feel proud. And yet, there +is another thing of which they are perhaps even prouder in the +depths of the national heart: the voice of the children of Italy +"redeemed." All along the re-claimed land, from Darzo to Gorizia, +sixteen thousand children of Italian speech and of Italian blood, +for whom Italian schools and Italian teachers have been provided +even under the increasing menace of the Austrian aircraft or gunfire, +join daily and enthusiastically in the refrain which the soldiers +of Italy are enforcing, but a few miles ahead: + + +"Va fuora d'Italia, va fuora ch'e' l'ora, + va fuora d'Italia, va fuora, stranier!" +[From the Inno di Garibaldi: +"Get out of Italy, it's high time; + get out of Italy, stranger, get out!"] + +[signed] Amy Bernardy + + + + + +Japan's Ideals and Her Part in the Struggle + + + + +The people of the world, whether engaged in open resistance to +German rapacity, or as onlookers, do well to see, as indeed they +have seen since its beginning, that modern civilization is at +stake. On every continent, Europe, Asia, Africa, Australia, and +both the Americas, recognition of this great fact was instinctive. +It was obvious everywhere that, if Germany with its sinister aims, +shamelessly avowed, and its terrible methods, relentlessly carried +out, was to prevail, all the progress that had been made out of +her barbarism and savagery would not only be imperiled but lost. + +It was clear that humanity would have to begin anew its weary +struggle out of the difficulties it had slowly overcome. Everything +of a high order that had been done from the beginning, under great, +devoted, far-seeing religious leaders, and by unknown millions who +had fought for liberty, would have to be given up. Recognition +of the potency of peaceful methods in government and industry; the +contribution of the individual to his own progress and that of +mankind; the gradual triumph of an ordered freedom over tyranny and +anarchy; all the achievements, that have gradually made the world +over, would have had to be undertaken again, and that, too, without +the free contribution from every quarter, which, in the varied history +of men, had assured the one great triumph which is civilization. +The dream of individual and national conquest--the cause of so much +suffering and bloodshed--was again to be repeated. This attack +has demanded thus far, as it will demand until the end, the united +efforts of practically all the people of the earth in order to defeat +this the most desperate attempt at conquest, undertaken under the +most favorable conditions, and after the most perfect preparation +known to history. If hesitation or treachery had arisen at any +important point the well-laid plot would have succeeded. + +Nothing in the history of Europe, or of all the peoples that sprang +from it in other parts of the world, is more creditable to humanity +than the united resistance which this attempt aroused. All that it +meant was attacked without mercy or shame. Its religious teachings +and practices, the result of many centuries of growth and experience +were defied by one of the nations professing the same creed. Its +political development, the result of a struggle under which +industry, family, and social growth had proceeded in regular order +was defied. Its humane policies were to be replaced by the dictates +of might--mercilessly executed. Its small peoples were to be +crushed, and its greater ones reduced to the status of vassals. +In a word, all its civilization was to be thrown away. + +But, at the first cry of alarm every threatened people rose as +if by magic. No surprise was effective, no lack of preparation +deterred, no peril brought hesitation. One by one, all jealousies +were dissipated, all past differences were forgotten, the common +danger was recognized, and they united, as humanity had never done +before, in that resistance to German ambitions which the world now +sees as its one great event, past or present. + +If this threat to civilization was thus met by Europe how much more +serious was the aspect which it presented to us in Japan! We were +more than mere participators in this civilization. We had grafted +upon our own life, old, balanced, remote, isolated, the creator +of great traditions, the newer and different ideas of Europe, +assimilating the best of them without losing these that were strong +and potent among our own. They had been fused into our life and, +in the process, had enabled us to make an enlarged contribution +to human progress. We had become so much a part of the world that +nothing in it was alien to us. We had always known, even from +the earliest times, what out people were, what they meant and what +they could do. We were in no wise ignorant of our own powers and +achievements but this new knowledge was akin to the addition of a +new sense. + +When this threat against mankind came we also saw instinctively +that it was even more of a peril to us than to Europe. We saw that +civilization was not a thing of continents, or nations, or races, +but of mankind, that in the evolution of human forces, men were +one in purpose and need. If Europe was to be crushed, it was only +a question of time until all that Europe had done for the world +in America, or the Antipodes, or in the islands of the sea, would +follow it. Then would come our turn, then all Asia would be thrown +into tyranny's crucible, and the world must begin anew. It was +not a mere diplomatic alliance that drew us into the contest. Our +own struggles had not been those of aggression; but it was easy to +see what ruthless conquest meant even if it seemed to be far away. +Therefore, we acted promptly and we hope with efficiency and have +since carried on the work in the sphere allotted to us by nature +with a devotion that has never flagged. It has been our duty not +to reason why, but to help in saving the world without bargains, +or dickerings, or suggestions, thus bearing our part in the rescue +of civilization from its perils. + +As we see our duty, and the duty of the world, only one thing is +left to do. It is to fight out this war which neither we nor any +other people or nation, other than the aggressors, have sought. +It must be fought to the end without wavering, without thought of +national or individual advantages. The victors are to be victors +for civilization and the world, not for themselves. The contest +upon which we are unitedly engaged will not only end this war; upon +its result will depend the extinction of all wars of aggression. +No opportunity must ever come again for any nation or people, or +any combination of nations or peoples, however, strong or numerous, +to seek that universal domination shown by experience to be +impossible, which, if it were possible, would mean the destruction +of human progress. + +We are proud to be associated with America as Allies in so great a +cause. Our duty thus keeps pace with our obligation and both are +guided by our highest desires. We, like you, have enlisted until +the war is settled and settled right; you, like ourselves, have no +favors to ask, both merely ask that they may live their own lives, +settle their own problems, smooth out their common differences or +difficulties, and do their best, along with all other peoples, to +make the world a better, not a worse, place to live in. + +[signed] K. Ishii + + + + + +Tropical Interlude + + + + +I Tropical Morning + + +In the mornings--Oh, the tropical mornings +When the bells are all so dizzily calling one to prayer!-- +All my thought was to watch from a nook in my window +Indian girls from the river with flowers in their hair. + +Some bore +Fresh eggs in wicker boxes +For the grocery store; +Others, baskets of fruit; and some, +The skins of mountain cats and foxes +Caught in traps at home. + +They all passed so stately by, they all walked so gracefully, +Balancing their bodies on lithe unstable hips, +As if music moved them that swelled in their bosoms +And was pizzicatti at their finger-tips. + + +II Tropical Rain + + +The rain, in Nicaragua, it is a witch they say; +She puts the world into her bag and blows the skies away; +And so, in every home, the little children gather, +Run up like little animals and kneel beside the Mother, +So frightened by the thunder that they can hardly pray. + +"Sweet Jesu, you that stilled the storm in Galilee, +Pity the homeless now, and the travelers by sea; +Pity the little birds that have no nest, that are forlorn; +Pity the butterfly, pity the honey bee; +Pity the roses that are so helpless, and the unsheltered corn, +And pity me...." + +Then, when the rain is over and the children's prayer is said, +Oh, joy of swaying palm-trees with the rainbows overhead, +And the streets swollen like rivers, and the wet earth's smell, +And all the ants with sudden wings filling the heart with wonder, +And, afar, the tempest vanishing with a stifled thunder +In a glare of lurid radiance from the gaping mouth of hell! + + +III Tropical Park + + +The park in Leon is but a garden +Where grass and roses grow together; +It has no ordinance, it has no warden +Except the weather. + +The paths are made of sand so fine +That they are always smooth and neat; +Sunlight and moonlight make them shine, +And so one's feet + +Seem always to tread on magic ground +That gleams, and that whispers curiously, +For sand, when you tread it, has the sound +Of the sea. + +Sometimes the band, of a warm night, +Makes music in that little park, +And lovers haunt, beyond the bright +Foot-paths, the dark. + +You can almost tell what they do and say +Listening to the sound of the sand,-- +How warm lips whisper, and glances play, +And hand seeks hand. + + +IV Tropical Town + + +Blue, pink and yellow houses, and, afar, +The cemetery, where the green trees are. + +Sometimes you see a hungry dog pass by, +And there are always buzzards in the sky. +Sometimes you hear the big cathedral bell, +A blindman rings it; and sometimes you hear +A rumbling ox-cart that brings wood to sell. +Else nothing ever breaks the ancient spell +That holds the town asleep, save, once a year, +The Easter festival.... + I come from there, +And when I tire of hoping, and despair +Is heavy over me, my thoughts go far, +Beyond that length of lazy street, to where +The lonely green trees and the white graves are. + + +V Tropical House + + +When the winter comes, I will take you to Nicaragua-- +You will love it there! +you will love my home, my house in Nicaragua, +So large and queenly looking, with a haughty air +That seems to tell the mountains, the mountains of Nicaragua, +"You may roar and you may tremble for all I care!" + +It is shadowy and cool, +Has a garden in the middle where fruit trees grow, +And poppies, like a little army, row on row, +And jasmine bushes that will make you think of snow +They are so white and light, so perfect and so frail, +And when the wind is blowing they fly and flutter so. + +The bath is in the garden, like a sort of pool, +With walls of honeysuckle and orchids all around; +The humming birds are always making a sleep sound; +In the night there's the Aztec nightingale; +But when the moon is up, in Nicaragua, +The moon of Nicaragua and the million stars, +It's the human heart that sings, and the heart of Nicaragua, +To the pleading, plaintive music of guitars! + +[signed] Salomon De La Selva. + + + + + +Latin America and the War + + + + +In common with many other parts of the world, even some of those +immediately involved, Latin America received the outbreak of the +European War with dismayed astonishment, with a feeling that it +could not be true, with mental confusion as to the real causes and +objects of the conflict. A survey of newspapers from Mexico to +Cape Horn during August, 1914, to the end of that year shows plainly +that for several months public opinion had not cleared up, that the +conflict seemed to be a frightful blunder, a terrific misunderstanding, +that might have been avoided, and for which no one nation in +particular was to blame. + +The deep love of Latin America for Latin Europe undoubtedly +meant great sympathy for France; England, too, the great investor +in and developer of South America, was watched with good feeling; +but Germany has done much for Latin America commerce and shipping +facilities, a work performed with skillfully regulated tact, and +very many sections of the southern republics were loath to believe +that a nation so friendly and so industriously commercial had +deliberately planned the war. + +But as time went on evidence accumulated; the martyrdom of Belgium +and Northern France, the use of poisonous gas, the instigation of +revolts in the colonies of the Entente Allies, the sinking of the +"Lusitania," the shooting of Nurse Cavell, and above all the proofs +of the enormous military preparations of Germany, slowly convinced +Latin America that a great scheme had long been perfected; the book +of Tannenburg which showed huge tracts of South America as part of +the future world dominion of Germany was seen to be no crazy dream +of an individual but the revelation of a widely held Teutonic ideal. +Many incidents occurring in the United States and Canada, such as +explosions and fires in factories of war materials, exposure of spies +and diplomatic intrigue, demonstrated a callous abuse of American +hospitality which the more southerly lands took to heart as +lessons; their dawning perception of the network of German effort +was further clarified by the floods of Teutonic propaganda which +covered every Latin American Republic and which was in many instances +speedily ridiculed by the keen-witted native press. + +Frank in their expression of opinion, no sooner had Latin Americans +resolved in their own minds the questions of responsibility for +the war than they gave utterance to their opinions; journals avowed +themselves pro-Ally, large subscriptions were raised in many sections +for the relief of the European sufferers, particularly Belgium, +and a number of young men joined the Entente armies. In Brazil, +which was always supposed to have a German bias on account of her +large German colonies, some of the foremost publicists and writers +voluntarily formed the "Liga pelos Alliados" (League in favor of +the Allies) with the famous orator, Ruy Barbosa, at its head, and +the prince of Brazilian poets, Olavo Bilac, as one of its most +active members; the League was organized early in 1915 and its +meetings were characterized by the warmest pro-Ally utterances; +many members of the Brazilian Congress joined it, and I never heard +any Administrative protest on the score of neutrality. + +Later in the same year Bilac, who is the object of fervent admiration, +for Latin America often pays more attention to her poets than to +her politicians, showed that he foresaw the entry of his country +into the conflict by a passionate appeal to the youth of Brazil +to fortify themselves with military discipline, in 1916 repeating +his "call to arms" in a tour throughout that great country. By +this time the whole of Latin America was lined up, the overwhelming +mass of press and people declaring pro-Ally, and especially +pro-French, sympathies, while the few ranged in the opposite camp +generally had special reasons for their choice, consisting of some +individual Germanic link. The fact of the prevalence of pro-Ally +feeling, long before any of the American countries became politically +aligned is, I think, a remarkable tribute to the response of Latin +America to the weight of genuine evidence; no propaganda was made +by any one of the Allied governments, and the solidification of +public opinion was due to Latin American feeling and not to outside +pressure. + +When, in April of this year, the United States was driven to a +breach with Germany on account of the torpedoing of her ships and +loss of her citizens' lives, she was the greatest material sufferer +from German submarine aggression; if Latin America in general +maintained at that date, and still in some sections maintains, +diplomatic relations with the Central Powers, it is largely because +they have endured no specific injury at German hands. Few Latin +American States possess a merchant marine traversing the sea danger +zones. But the entry of the United States was regarded with warm +approval; her cause was acknowledged to be just and the Latin +American press reflects nothing but admiration for her step. The +Republics of Cuba, Panama, Guatemala, Honduras, and in an informal +manner, Costa Rica, as well as the more or less American-controlled +Nicaragua, Haiti and Santo Domingo, quickly aligned themselves +with the United States, with whose fortunes their own are closely +connected. + +Brazil, revoking her decree of neutrality in June, 1917, was perhaps +influenced to some degree by the action of the United States, but +she had her own specific reason in the sinking of three of her merchant +vessels by German submarines; Brazil possesses an enterprising and +good mercantile marine, has been carrying coffee and frozen meat +to Europe during the war and her ships have thus been constantly +exposed to risk. The sinking of her vessels raised a storm of anger, +the popular voice warmly supporting the acts of the government. +Nor is the alignment of Brazil a mere declaration; she has taken +over the forty-six German and Austrian ships lying in her ports, +and much of this tonnage, totaling 300,000 tons, is already in +service after three years' idleness, two of the vessels having been +handed over to the use of the Allies. Brazil is also taking over +the patrol of a big strip of the south-western Atlantic with fifteen +units of her excellent navy. + +Bolivia was another South American country which quickly followed +the United States in breaking relations with Germany, and this was +done not because Bolivia had suffered at the hands of the Teutonic +powers but because she "wishes to show her sympathy with the United +States and felt it the duty of every democracy to ally itself with +the cause of justice." With no coast and therefore no mercantile +marine, Bolivia is however greatly interested in the shipments of +rubber and minerals which she sends abroad and some of which have +been sent to the bottom of the sea by torpedoes; her sympathies +with the Entente Allies are undoubted. + +On October 6 relations with Germany were broken by Peru, the +determining factor being the torpedoing of the Peruvian vessel +"Lorton;" on October 7 the National Assembly of Uruguay voted for +a break with Germany, thus completing the attitude which she had +frankly declared many months previously, when she protested against +Germany's methods in submarine warfare. Paraguay, although still +formally neutral, has expressed her sympathy with the United States. + + +Before I pass to a few quotations from Latin American sources on +the subject of their spirit, it is well to look across the seas +to the Mother Countries, whose sentiments and actions have more +effect upon Latin America than is always remembered. There is, for +instance, no doubt that the entry of Portugal into the war on the +side of her ancient ally, England, profoundly affected the Brazilian +mind; the friendship between England and Portugal dates from 1147, +and an unbroken political treaty has lasted since 1386--the longest +in history; + +[An English poet wrote in the Fourteenth Century: + "Portingallers with us have troth in hand + Whose marchindise cometh much into England. + They are our friends with their commodities + And we English passen into their countries."] + +Brazil as the child of Portugal inherited the English good feeling, +her independence from the Mother Country was effected without any +prolonged bitterness, and with the actual assistance of England. +When, then, Brazil saw the people sprung from the cradle of her +race fighting side by side with the ancient friend of both she was +deeply stirred. Portuguese merchants prosper in large numbers in +Brazil, Portuguese news daily fills space in the Brazilian newspapers; +the cry of that great Portuguese, Theophilo Braga, found echoes in +many a gallant Brazilian heart: + +"And with what arms shall Portugal engage, + So little as she is, in such great feats? + They call on her to play a leading part + Who know that in the Lusitanian heart + Love beats!" + +In a corresponding degree there seems to be little doubt that the +neutral attitude which Spain has maintained is partly responsible +for the neutrality of several South American countries; they do not +forget the bloody years of struggle before they attained independence +from Spain, but they are wise enough to differentiate between the +policy of Ferdinand VII and the heart of Spain. Dr. Belisario +Porras, the ex-President of Panama, and a distinguished scholar +and writer said in May, 1917: + +"For us of Central and South America, Iberianism is a matter +of sentiment, affection and veneration, not a matter of politics. +Spain is our Mother Country, whence we came, where the names we +bear are also borne, where the memories and ashes of our ancestors +are guarded, of whose deeds we are proud, whose tongue we speak, +whose religion we share, whose heroic character and customs we +admire.... Spain is our pole star, the star to which we raise our +eyes when we are despairing and when we face a sacrifice for God, +for a woman, a child, or our country." + +Spain has had, of course, up to the present, no direct national +injury to resent; she has on the other hand several reasons for +remaining politically neutral and can at present do so with honor; +although she is weak and poor, still exhausted by the long conflicts +of her past, without resources, without any notable strength in army +or navy, she is serving as an indispensable channel of communication. +She, as well as many South American countries, can best aid the +world by concentrating upon production; in addition to this, she +is, in company with Holland, rendering excellent service in feeding +unhappy Belgium, replacing American workers. + +Spain is not intellectually neutral or unmindful of the effect of +her attitude upon Latin America, and this is shown by the number of +newspapers on the Allies' side, as "La Epoca" and "La Correspondencia +de España." An immediate response was given to the pro-Ally +utterances of the Conde de Romanones, who said on April 17: + +"Spain is the depository of the spiritual patrimony of a great +race. She has historical aspirations to preside over the moral +confederation of all the nations of our blood, and this hope will +be definitely destroyed if, at a moment so decisive for the future +as this, Spain and her children are shown to be spiritually divorced." + +If Spain fails in leadership the love of Latin America for France +will be the more emphasized, is the conclusion one draws from the +speeches and writings of Ibero-America. The degree to which South +America feels herself involved in the fate of France is displayed +in such dicta as this of Victor Viana, a Brazilian writer: + +"In the great Latin family, France is the educator, the leader, +the example, the pride. Thus Brazil, in common with all Latin +countries, seeing in France the reservoir of mental energy, constantly +renewed by her splendid intellectuals, has as much interest in the +victory of French arms as France herself. The overthrow of France +would have produced a generation of unbelievers and skeptics, +and we, in another clime and a new country, should not have been +able to escape this influence, because we share all the movements +of French thought. The reaction of French energy which created +the present generation spread throughout Brazil new sentiments of +patriotism.... The entire world, except naturally the combatants +on the other side, recognize the justice of the cause of France, which +is the cause of all the other Allies, of Belgium which sacrificed +herself, of England which pledges her all to save the right, of +the United States, of the entire Americas." + + +While I have been writing these notes the political situation of +Argentina in regard to the war has suddenly crystallized; extending +over several months there has been a series of submarine attacks +upon vessels of Argentina, indignant protests in each case being +met by apologies and promises of indemnity on the part of Germany. +There has been much irritation in spite of these promises, cumulative +irritation, which however might have remained submerged had it not +been for the revelations of the acts of Count Luxburg, which have +made the expression "spurlos versekt" a byword. This exhibition +of callous plotting against Argentine lives immediately resulted +in the handing of passports to the German Ambassador to Argentina, +and during the third week in September both houses of Congress voted +by large majorities for a severance of relations with Germany. That +this step was not, at the moment, consummated, was due to President +Irigoyen's wish to accept the satisfaction offered by Germany; but +the sentiments of Argentina as a whole have been fully demonstrated. + +Their action plainly showed the temper of the Argentine people, +who have certainly never been unsympathetic to the Entente Allies' +cause although they have shown some restiveness under rather +tactless attempts on the part of a section of the United States +press to tutor them into line. The best thought of Argentina has all +along been with the Allies and this is exemplified by an article, +"Neutrality Impossible," widely published and applauded in June +of this year by the brilliant Argentine writer and poet Leopoldo +Lugones: + +"Inevitably War knocks at our door. We are compelled to make a +decision. Either we must respect the integrity of our past in the +name of the American solidarity which is the law of life and honor +for all the nations of the continent, revealing at the same time +intelligence with regard to our own future, or we must submit +ourselves, grossly cowardly, to the terrorism of despots." + + +CUBA + + +The United States broke relations with Germany on April 6. On +April 7 Dr. José Manuel Cortina, speaking before the Cuban House +of Representatives, when the decree of war against Germany was +passed, said: + +"We have resolved to give our unanimous and definite consent to +the proposition submitted to the House to declare a state of war +between the Republic of Cuba and the German Empire, and to join, +in this great conflagration of the world, our efforts to those of +the United States of North America. We fight in this conflict, +which will decide the trend of all morality and civilization in +the universe, united tot he great republic which in a day not long +distant drew her sword and fired her guns over Cuban fields and +seas in battle for our liberty and sovereignty. We go to fight as +brothers beside that great people who have been ever the friends +and protectors of Cuba, who aided us during the darkest days of +our tragic history, in moments when opposed by enormous strength, +we had nearly disappeared from the face of the earth, when we had +no other refuge, no other loyal and magnanimous friend than the +great North American people." + + +HAITI + + +Speech of the President of Haiti, M. Philippe Sudre Dartiguenave, +on May 12, previous to Haiti's breach with Germany: + +"What cause could be more holy than that defended at this moment, +with unanimous and admirable enthusiasm by the people of the +United States, by Cuba, by a great deal of Latin America, in moral +cooperation with the Entente Powers! At Savannah, we fought with +the soldiers of Washington for the independence of the country of +Franklin, of Lincoln, of John Brown.... At the cry of distress +of Bolivar, did we not throw ourselves into the South America's +struggle for independence? The task before us in this supreme moment +is worthy, glorious, because it is that of international justice, +the liberty of nations, of civilization, of all Humanity." + + +CENTRAL AMERICA + + +As we have seen above, four of the Central American Republics have +aligned themselves with the United States since her entry into +the war, Guatemala, Nicaragua and Honduras breaking off diplomatic +relations with Germany very shortly after the definite action of +the United States was known, the statement of Don Joaquin Mendez +representing the prevalent feeling: "The rupture has aligned Guatemala +'ipso facto' with those who are the defenders of the modern ideas +of democracy and freedom." Small in size and limited in resources, +it is not likely that any active part will be taken by Central +America in the war; she is removed from the most dangerous zones +and will not suffer, it is to be hoped, more than the inevitable +and temporary economic embarrassments due to dislocation of the +world's industrial systems. But her spirit is reflected in such +announcements as this notice from the front page of a little daily +paper published in S. Pedro Sula, Honduras: + +"This periodical is Latin and as such professes its sympathy in +favor of the Allied nations now struggling so nobly in defense of +Liberty with, as their aim, the establishment of a lasting peace +which will render impossible the future development of schemes of +conquest." + +The position of Costa Rica, informally aligned with the Allies and +the United States, is peculiar in that she cannot formalize her +position until her new government has received the recognition of +these countries. Don Ricardo Fernandez Guardia, the foremost writer +of Costa Rica, says that, "The fact that we have offered the use of +our ports, since April 9, 1917, to the navy of the United States, +undoubtedly constitutes a breach of neutrality, and in consequence +Costa Rica considers herself as enlisted in the ranks of the Allies +'de facto.' There is an overwhelming sentiment of sympathy with +the Allies both on the part of the government and the great majority +of the people of Costa Rica." + +Panama, immediately following the news of the United States' breach +with Germany, declared herself "ready to do all within her power +to protect the Panama Canal"; Uruguay, although making no breach of +relations with the Central Powers, supported United States action +and denounced submarine warfare as carried on by Germany; Paraguay, +too, expressed her sympathy with the United States which she said +"was forced to enter the war to establish the rights of neutrals." + +Thus the only Latin American nations which have rigidly preserved +a neutral attitude are Mexico, whose own internal problems form an +entirely sufficient reason; Ecuador, Venezuala and Colombia. They +are still political neutrals, but no one who knows the Latin soul +can doubt that there is in each of these lands a strong feeling +of admiration for the vindication of Latin elasticity which France +and Italy and Portugal have show, and for the dogged might of England +whose naval skill has prevented the strangulation of the commerce +of the world; in this matter all these lands are interested, since +all are raw-material producers shipping their products abroad. This +sentiment was concisely expressed by Ruy Barbosa, the Brazilian +orator, when on August 5 the "Liga pelos Alliados" held a meeting +of "homage to England" on the third anniversary of her entry into +the war, and he declared it "an honor and pleasure to salute the +great English nation to whom we owe in this war the liberty of the +seas and the annihilation of German methods upon the ocean, without +which European resistance to the German attack and the preservation +of the independence of the American continent would be impossible." + +Nothing would, I think, be more improper than that any nation +should be urged to enter the war against her own feelings; but for +those who have taken or may yet take that step there is one very +high consideration which cannot be forgotten--the effect upon the +national spirit of To-morrow of a gallant and decisive attitude +Today. Who has more finely expressed this sense of the formation +of the heritage of ideas than the modern Portuguese poet Quental? + +Even as the winds the pinewood cones down cast +Upon the ground and scatter by their blowing +And one by one, down to the very last, +The seeds along the mountain ridge are sowing. +Even so, by winds of time, ideas are strewn +Little by little, though none see them fly-- +And thus in all the fields of life are sown +The vast plantations of posterity. + +["Odes Modernas, by Anthero de Quental, translated by George Young.] + +[signed] Lilian E. Elliott. + +October 20, 1917. + + + + + +Drill + + + + +Williams College, April, 1917 + + +One! two, three, four! +One! two, three, four! +One, two!... +It is hard to keep in time +Marching through +The rutted slime +With no drum to play for you. +One! two, three, four! +And the shuffle of five hundred feet +Till the marching line is neat. + +Then the wet New England valley +With the purple hills around +Takes us gently, musically, +With a kindly heart and willing, +Thrilling, filling with the sound +Of our drilling. + +Battle fields are far away. +All the world about me seems +The fulfillment of my dreams. +God, how good it is to be +Young and glad to-day! + +One! two, three, four! +One, two, three!... + +Now, as never before, +From the vastness of the sky, +Falls on me the sense of war. +Now, as never before, +Comes the feeling that to die +Is no duty vain and sore. +Something calls and speaks to me: +Cloud and hill and stream and tree; +Something calls and speaks to me, +From the earth, familiarly. +I will rise and I will go, +As the rivers flow to sea, +As the sap mounts up the tree +That the flowers may blow-- +God, my God, +All my soul is out of me! + +God, my God, +Your world is much too beautiful! I feel +My senses melt and reel, +And my heart aches as if a sudden steel +Had pierced me through and through. +I cannot bear +This vigorous sweetness in your air; +The sunlight smites me heavy blow on blow, +My soul is black and blue +And blind and dizzy. God, my mortal eyes +Cannot resist the onslaught of your skies! +I am no wind, I cannot rise and go +Tearing in madness to the woods and sea; +I am no tree, +I cannot push the earth and lift and grow; +I am no rock +To stand unmovable against this shock. +Behold me now, a too desirous thing, +Passionate lover of your ardent Spring, +Held in her arms too fast, too fiercely pressed +Against her thundering breast +That leaps and crushes me! + +One! two, three, four! +One! two, three, four! +One, two, three!... + +So it shall be +In Flanders or in France. After a long +Winter of heavy burdens and loud war, +I will forget, as I do now, all things +Except the perfect beauty of the earth. +Strangely familiar, I will hear a song, +As I do now, above the battle roar, +That will set free my pent imaginings +And quiet all surprise. +My body will seem lighter than the air, +Easier to sway than a green stalk of corn; +Heaven shall bend above me in its mirth +With flutter of blue wings; +And singing, singing, as to-day it sings, +The earth will call to me, will call and rise +And take me to its bosom there to bear +My mortal-feeble being to new birth +Upon a world, this world, like me reborn, +Where I shall be +Alive again and young again and glad and free. + +One! two, three, four! +One! two, three, four! +One, two, three!... + +All the world about me seems +The fulfillment of my dreams. + +[signed] Salomon De La Selva. + + + + + +The People's Struggle + + + + +"Let no free country be alien to the freedom of another country." + + +"Portugal is going solemnly to affirm on the field of battle her +adhesion to this precept, though uttered by German lips. In defense +of it, Portuguese will fight side by side with Englishmen, as they +fought with them at Aljubarrota, side by side with Frenchmen, who +fought with them at Montes Claros. Were it necessary to appeal +to a motive less disinterested than the noble ideal proclaimed by +Schiller, we have this: the payment of an ancient debt to which +our honor binds us. Let us go forward to defend territories of +those who defended ours, let us maintain the independence of nations +who contributed to the salvation of our own independence. + +"But the objective is a higher one, I repeat. This has been made +quite clear within the last few months, through the revolution in +Russia, the participation of the United States, and the solidarity, +more or less effective, of all the democracies. It is the people's +struggle for right, for liberty, for civilization against the dark +forces of despotism and barbarism. Portugal would betray her historic +mission were she now to fold her arms, the arms which discovered +worlds. When the earth was given to man, it was not that it should +be peopled by slaves. The sails of Portuguese ships surrounded +the globe like a diadem of stars, not as a collar of darkness to +strangle it." + +Henrique Lopes De Mendonca + +of the Academy of Science of Lisbon, speaking at Lisbon in May, +1917. + +Translation by L. E. Elliott. + + + + + +Portugal + + + + +Lisbon, 18th August, 1917 + + +I have received your letter of August 2nd, in which you ask me, as +representing Portugal, to send a message to the American people to +be printed in the book "Defenders of Democracy," and state that a +distinguished Portuguese official has been good enough to mention +my name to you as that of "an authoritative writer on Portuguese +affairs." + +I am sensible of the honor done me, but not being a citizen of +Portugal, I dare not presume to speak for that country. + +A foreigner however, with friends in both the camps in which +Portuguese society is divided, may perhaps be able to state some +facts unknown to the American public and of interest at the present +time. + +And first let me remark that the entry of America into the war, +which is a pledge of victory for the Allies, has been a surprise +and a relief to the Portuguese, who are by nature pessimists. We +Anglo-Saxons are considered to be mainly guided in our conduct by +material considerations--did not Napoleon call the English "a nation +of shopkeepers"?--and the saying "Time is money" is frequently +quoted against us; hence hardly any Portuguese imagined that America +would abandon the neutrality which seemed commercially profitable, +and even after the decision had been taken, few though that the United +States were capable of raising a large army and of transporting it +overseas. + +Now that America and Portugal are fighting side by side, in a +common cause, it is well that they should understand one another. +For all their differences of race, religion and language, their +ideas are similar. The Portuguese being kindly, easy-going folk, +hate militarism and the reign of brute force which is identified +with German "Kultur." As they prize their independence and know +their weakness, both inclination and necessity lead them to the +side of the powers who may be supposed to favor the continuance +of their separate existence and the retention by them of their +colonies; as they have a keen sense of justice, and respect their +engagements, they feel and have shown their sympathy with violated +and outraged Belgium and with the other victims of German aggression. +Why then, it may be asked, did they not support whole-heartedly +the Government of the Republic when it determined to take part in +the war? The answer is simple. + +They felt that their first duty was to protect their colonies, +threatened by the enemy, and that in a war where the combatants +are counted by millions, the small contingent that Portugal could +furnish would be of little weight on the battlefields of Europe. +Unless treaty obligations and considerations of honor forced them +to be belligerents, they considered that as Portugal was poor and +had relatively to population almost the heaviest public debt of +any European Country, they ought to remain neutral--that this view +was mistaken is daily becoming clearer to them, thanks in part +to the propaganda of the Catholic paper "Ordem" and the official +Monarchist journal "Diario Nacional," which have insisted as +strongly as the Republican press on the necessity of Portuguese +participation in the war, in accord with her ancient traditions. He +who risks nothing, gains nothing. By her present heavy sacrifices +for a great ideal, Portugal wins a fresh title to universal +consideration, and by helping to vanquish Germany she defends her +oversea patrimony, which the Germans proposed to annex. + +I have said that the ideas of the United States and Portugal +are similar. But the pressing needs of Portugal are a competent +administration, public order and social discipline, which Germany +possesses to a remarkable degree, and admiration of these has laid +Portuguese Conservatives open to the charge of being pro-German. +Many of them judge from experience that the desiderata I refer to +cannot be secured in a democracy, while a few of them have gone so +far as to desire a German triumph, because they foolishly thought +that the Kaiser would restore the monarchy. None of them, I +think, sympathize with German methods; but they have suffered from +a century of revolutions, dating from 1820, and attribute these +disasters to the anti-Christian ideas of the French Revolution. In +America that great movement had beneficent results, as I understand, +which only shows that one man's drink is another's poison. + +Divergent ideals and other considerations led Portuguese Conservatives +to throw their influence into the scale in favor of neutrality, +but now that their country is at war they have accepted the fact +and can be trusted to do their duty. At the front political and +other differences are forgotten and the soldiers, whatever their +creed, are honoring the warlike traditions of their race and reminding +us of the days when Wellington spoke of Portuguese troops as the +"fighting-cocks" of his army. + +By organizing with great efforts and sending a properly trained +and equipped expeditionary force to France, the Government of the +Republic has deserved well of the country and the Allies, and I +believe that it has unconsciously been the agent of Divine Providence. +The men, when they return will bring with them a firmer religious +faith, the foundation of national well-being, and a higher standard +of conduct than prevails here at present; they may well prove the +regenerators of a land which all who know it learn to love, a land, +the past achievements of whose sons in the cause of Christianity and +civilization are inscribed on the ample page of history. Portugal +which produced so many saints and heroes, which founded the sea +road to India and discovered and colonized Brazil, cannot be allowed +longer to vegetate, for this in the case of a country means to die. + +[signed] Edgar Prestage + + + + + +Roumania + + + + +An Interpretation + + +A Serbian politician, conversing with a traveler from Western Europe, +mentioned the words "a nice national balance;" and when the other, +bored to death with the everlasting wrangle of the turbulent +Balkans, tried to lead the conversation to Shakespeare and the +Musical Glasses, away from Macedonia and Albania and "komitadjis" +and Kotzo-Vlachs, the Serbian remarked with a laugh that the nice +national balance of which he was speaking was not political, but +economic and social. + +"You see," he said, "we Serbians are born peasants, born agriculturists, +men of the glebe and the plow. The Roumanian, on the other hand, +is a born financier. Gold comes to his hand like fish to bait. +He comes to Serbia to make money--and he makes it." + +"But," said the Western European, "isn't that rather hard on the +Serbian?" + +"No! Not a bit! For it is the young Serbian who marries the +Roumanian's daughter, and the young Serbian girl who marries the +Roumanian's son. Thus the Serbian money, earned by the Roumanian, +is still kept in the country. You know," he added musingly, "the +Roumanians are a singularly handsome, a singularly engaging people. +I myself married a Roumanian." + +"A rich Roumanian's daughter, I suppose?" + +"Heavens, no! A poor girl." + +And he added with superb lack of logic: + +"Who wouldn't marry a Roumanian--be she rich--OR poor!" + +WHO WOULDN'T MARRY A ROUMANIAN? + +The secret of the Balkans is contained in that simple rhetoric +question. + +For, clear away from the days when the Slavs made their first +appearance in Southern Europe and, crossing the Danube, came to +settle on the great, green, rolling plain between the river and +the jagged frowning Balkan Mountains, the proceeded southwards and +formed colonies among the Thraco-Illyrians, the Roumanians, and +the Greeks, to the days of Michael the Brave who drove the Turks +to the spiked gates of Adrianople and freed half the peninsula for +a span of years; from the days when gallant King Mirtsched went +down to glorious defeat amongst the Osmanli yataghans to the final +day when the Russian Slav liberated the Roumanian Latin from the +Turkish yoke, the Roumanian has held high the torch of civilization +and culture. + +Latin civilization! + +Latin culture! + +Latin ideals! + +Straight through, he has been the Western leaven in an Eastern +land. + +Geographically, the Fates were unkind to him. + +For he stood in the path of the most gigantic racial movements +of the world. His land was the scene of savage racial struggles. +His rivers ran red with the blood of Hun and Slav, of Greek and +Albanian, of Osmanli and Seljuk. His fields and pastures became +the dumping-ground of residual shreds of a dozen and one nations +surviving from great defeats or Pyrrhic victories and nursing +irreconcilable mutual racial hatreds. + +But the old Latin spirit proved stronger than Fate, stronger than +numbers, stronger than brute force. It proved strong enough to +assimilate the foreign barbarians, instead of becoming assimilated +by them. It was strong enough to wipe out every trace of Asian and +Slavic taint. It was strong enough to keep intact the Latin idea +against the steely shock of Asian hordes, the immense, crushing +weight of Slave fatalism, the subtleties of Greek influence. + +The Roumanian is a Roman. + +His cultural ideal was, and is, of the West, of Rome of France--AND +of Himself; and he has kept it inviolate through military and +political disaster, through slavery itself. + +Roumania has remained a window of Europe looking toward Asia as +surely and as steadily as Petrograd was a window of Asia looking +toward Europe. + +The Roumanian is proud of his Latin descent; and he shows his ancestry +not only in his literature, his art, and his every day life, but +also, perhaps chiefly, in his government which is practically a +safe and sane oligarchy, modeled on that of ancient Florence, and, +be it said, fully as successful as that of the Florentine Republic. + +Latin, too, is his diplomacy. It is clean--AND clever. It is the +big stick held in a velvet glove. It is supremely able. He seeks +a great advantage with a modest air, in contrast to the Greek who +seeks a modest advantage with a grandiloquent air. + +He seeks no "réclame," but goes ahead serenely, unfalteringly, +sure in his knowledge that he is the torch-bearer of ancient Rome +in the savage Balkans. + +[signed] Achmed Abdullah + + + + + +The Soul of Russia + + + + +There is a strange saying in Russia that no matter what happens to +a man, good results to him thereby. No matter what hair-breadth +escapes he has, what calamities he faces, what hardships he undergoes, +he emerges more powerful, more experienced from the ordeal. Danger +and privation are more beneficial in the long run than peace and +joy. A nation of some fifty different races gradually melting into +one, a country covering a territory of one-sixth of the surface +of the earth and a population of 185,000,000, the Russians have +remained to the outside world the apaches of Europe, wild tribes +of the steppes. In the imagination of an average American or +Englishman, Russia was something Asiatic, something connected with +the barbaric East, a country beyond the horizon. It was considered +as lacking in culture and civilization, and as a menace to the +West. "Nichevo, sudiba!"--(It doesn't matter, everything is fate) +replies a Russian, crossing himself. The whole psychology of the +Slavic race is crystallized in these two impressionistic words. + +What John Ruskin said in his famous historic essay applies to +Russia: "I found that all the great nations learned their truth of +word and strength of thought in war." Every great Russian reform +has taken place suddenly as a consequence of some nation-wide calamity. +The Tartar invasion united Russia into one powerful nation; the +Crimean War abolished the feudal system; the Russo-Turkish War +gave the judicial reforms and abolished capital punishment; the +Russo-Japanese War gave the preliminary form of Constitutional +government in the Duma; the present war is opening the soul of Russia +to the world by giving an absolute democratic form of government +to the united Slavic race. The present war will reveal that Russia +the known has been the very opposite extreme of Russia the unknown. + +The outside world is wondering how the Russian character will fit +in with the aspirations of democracy. They cannot reconcile the +Russia of pogroms and Serbia with the Russia of wonderful municipal +theaters, great artists, writers, musicians and lovers of humanity. +The world has known the tyrants like Plehve, Trepoff, Orloff and +Stolypin, or others like Rasputin, Protopopoff and forgets that +Russia has also produced geniuses like Dostoyewsky, Turgenieff, +Tchaikowsky, Tolstoy, Moussorgsky, Rimsky-Korsakoff, Mendeleyeff +and Metchnikoff. The world has looked at Russia as a land of +uncultivated steppes, of frozen ground, hungry bears and desperate +Cossacks, and forgets that in actuality this is the Russia of +the past very extreme surface and next to it is a Russia of great +civilization and the highest art, unknown yet to the West generally. + +One of the strangest peculiarities of Russian life is that you +will find the greatest contrasts everywhere. Here you will see the +most luxurious castles, cathedrals, convents, villas and estates; +there you will find the most desolate huts of the moujiks and lonely +hermit caves in the wilds of Siberia. Here you will meet the most +selfish chinovnik, the most fanatic desperado or reckless bureaucrat; +there you face the noblest men and women, supermen, physically +and mentally. You will find that all Russian life is full of such +mental and physical contrasts. + +This is the dualism that confronts like a sphinx the foreigners. +In the same way you will find that the Russian homes are full of +contrasting colors, bright red and yellow, white and blue. The +Russian music is the most dramatic phonetic art ever created; it +reaches the deepest sorrow and the gayest hilarity and joy. Dreamy, +romantic, imaginary, simple, hospitable and childlike as an average +moujik, is the soul of the people. Nowhere is there a hint of +those qualities which are thrown up as dark shadows on the canvas +of his horizon. While with one hand Russia has been conquering the +world, with the other she has been creating the most magnificent +masterpieces of humanity. In the same generation she produces a +Plehve and a Tolstoy, both in a way, true to national type. + +In the popular American imagination, which invariably seizes upon +a single point, three things stand out as representative of Russia: +the moujiks, the Cossacks and the Siberian penal system. The vast +unknown spaces between these three have been filled in with the +dark colors of poverty and oppression, so that a Russian is looked +upon as an outcast of evolution, an exile of the ages. + +the Russia of the dark powers is past; thus soon will pass the +Russian chinovnik, the Russian spy and the Russian gloom, who have +been a shadow of the Slavic race. From now all the world will +listen to the majestic masterpieces of the Russian composers, see +the infinite beauty of the Russian life and feel the greatness +of the Russian soul. Not only has Russia her peculiar racial +civilization, her unique art and literature, and national traditions, +but she has riches of which the outside world knows little, riches +that are still buried. The Russian stage, art galleries, archives, +monastery treasuries and romantic traits of life remain still a +sealed book to the outsiders. Take for instance, Russian music, the +operas of Rimsky-Korsakoff, the plays of Ostrowsky and the symphonies +of Reinhold Gliere or Spendiarov and you will have eloquent chapters +of a modern living Bible. No music of another country is such a +true mirror of a nation's racial character, life, passion, blood, +struggle, despair and agony, as the Russian. One can almost see +in its turbulent-lugubrious or buoyant-hilarious chords the rich +colors of the Byzantine style, the half Oriental atmosphere that +surrounds everything with a romantic halo. + +The fundamental purpose of the pathfinders of Russian art, music, +literature and poetry was to create beauties that emanated, not +from a certain class or school, but directly from the souls of the +people. Their ideal was to create life from life. Though profound +melancholy seems to be the dominant note in Russian music and art, +yet along with the dramatic gloom go also reckless hilarity and +boisterous humor, which often whirl one off one's feet. This is +explained by the fact that the average Russian is extremely emotional +and consequently dramatic in his artistic expressions. Late Leo +Tolstoy said to me on one occasion: "In our folksong and folk +art is evidently yearning without end, without hope, also power +invisible, the fateful stamp of destiny, and the fate in preordination, +one of the fundamental principles of our race, which explains much +that in Russian life seems incomprehensible for the foreigners." + +Thus the Russian art and soul in their very foundations are already +democratic, simple, direct and true to the ethnographic traits of +the race. In the same way you will find the Russian home life, +the peasant communities, the zemstvoe institutions, offsprings of +an extremely democratic tendency, perhaps far more than any such +institution of the West. Instead of the rich or noblemen absorbing +the land of the peasants, we find in Russia the peasant commune +succeeding tot he property of the baron. An average Russian +peasant is by far more democratic and educated, irrespective of +his illiteracy than an average farmer of the New World. He has +the culture of the ages in his traditions, religion and national +folk-arts. Russia has more than a thousand municipal theaters, +more than a hundred grand operas, more than a hundred colleges and +universities or musical conservatories. Russia has a well-organized +system of cooperative banks and stores and a marvelous artelsystem of +the working professional classes which in its democratic principles +surpasses by far the labor union systems of the West. Herr von +Bruggen, the eminent German historian writes of the Russian tendency +as follows: "Wherever the Russian finds a native population in +a low state of civilization, he knows how to settle down with it +without driving it out or crushing it; he is hailed by the natives +as the bringer of order, as a civilizing power." + +I have always preached and continue to do so in the future, that +Russia and the United States should join hands, know and love each +other, the sooner the better. Russia needs the active spirit, +the practical grasp of the things, which the people of the United +States possess. Nothing will help and inspire an average Russian +more than the sincere democratic hand of an American. A dose +of American optimism and active spirit is the best toxin for free +Russia. On the other hand, the American needs just as much Russian +emotionalism, aesthetic culture and mystic romanticism, as he can +give of his racial qualities. + +The old system having gone, Russia is free to open her national, +spiritual and physical treasures. For some time to come neither +Germany nor other European countries, will be able to go to Russia, +for even if the war does not last long, its havoc will take years +to repair. Endless readjustments will have to take place in each +country affected by the war. Russia, being more an agricultural, +intellectual-aristocratical country, will fell least of all +the after effects of the past horrors, therefore has the greatest +potentialities. There is not only a great work, adventure +and romance that waits an American pioneer in Russia, but a great +mission which will ultimately benefit both nations. It should be +understood that the Russian democracy will not be based upon the +economic-industrial, but aesthetic-intellectual principles of life. +It is not the money, the financial power that will play the dominant +role in free Russia, but the ideal, the dramatic, the romantic +or mystic tendency. Money will never have that meaning in Russia +which it has in the West. It will be the individual, the emotional, +the great symbol of the mystic beyond, that will speak from future +democratic Russia only in a different and more dynamic form, as it +has been speaking in the past. + +As Lincoln is the living voice of the American people, thus Tolstoy +is and remains the glorified Russian peasant uttering his heart to +the world. The voice of this man alone is sufficient to tell the +outside world that the Russian democracy is a creation not of form +and economics but of spirit and aesthetics. + +[signed]Ivan Narodny + +Author of "Echoes of Myself," "The Dance," "The Art of Music," X +Volume, etc. + + + + + +The American Bride + + + + +Petka had been for years a village tailor but he had never been +able to save enough money to open a grocery-store. He hated his +profession and hated to think that he could never get anything higher +in the social rank of the place than what he was. While the name +of a tailor sounded to him so cheap, that of a merchant flattered +his ambition immensely. But there was no chance to earn the five +hundred rubles, which, he thought, was necessary to change the +profession. + +"If I marry a poor peasant girl like Tina or Vera, I'll never get +anywhere," soliloquized Petka and made plans for his future. + +Petka knew a girl with two hundred ruble-dowry, but she was awfully +homely and deaf; and he knew a widow with three hundred rubles, but +she was twenty years older than himself. It was a critical situation. + +One day Petka heard that the daughter of an old peddler had a +dowry of five hundred rubles, exactly the amount he needed. After +careful planning of the undertaking he hired a horse and drove +to the lonely cottage of the rag peddler to whom he explained as +clearly as he could, the purpose of his visit. + +"My Liz ain't at home," the old man replied. "She is in that +distant country called America. Good Lord, Liza is a lady of some +distinction. If you should see her on the street you would never +take her for my daughter. She wears patent-leather shoes, kid-gloves, +corsets and such finery. Why, I suppose she has a proposal for +every finger, if not more. She is some girl, I tell you." + +Petka listened with throbbing heart to the thrilling story of the +old man, scratched his head and said: + +"I suppose that she is employed in some high class establishment +or something like that?" + +"Of course, she is," grunted the peddler proudly. "She might be +employed or she might not. She has written to me that she is a +lady all right." + +"What is her special occupation?" + +"She is employed as the waitress in a lunch-room on the so called +Second Avenue corner at New York. And her salary reaches often +thirty dollars a month, which represents a value in our money of +something over sixty rubles. Now that is not a joke. She has all +the food and lodging free. Why, it's a real gold-mine." + +"Has she saved already much?" + +"She has five hundred dollars in the savings bank, and she has all +the hats and shoes, and gloves and such stuff that would make our +women faint. So you see she is the real thing." + +The happy father pulled the daughter's letter from the bottom of +his bed and reached it over to the visitor. Petka read and reread +the letter with breathless curiosity. In the letter which was +also a small snap-shot picture of the girl. Petka looked at the +picture and did not know what to say. To judge from her photograph, +she was a frail spinster, with high cheekbones, a long neck and a +nose like a frozen potato. But the trimming of her hair, her city +hat with flowers, and her whole American bearing made her interesting +enough to the ambitious tailor. For a long time he was gazing at +the picture and thinking. + +"Do you think that Liza would marry a man like me? I am a well +known tailor. But I have now a chance to become a merchant in our +village. I need some money to make up the difference, and why not +try the luck? Liza might be a well known waitress in New York, +but to be a merchant's wife is a different thing. Don't you think +she might consider my proposal seriously?" + +The old peddler puffed at his pipe, walked to the window and back +as if measuring the matter most seriously. + +"It all depends--you know Liza is a queer girl--it all depends on +how you strike her with a strong letter. You could not go to New +York and make the proposal personally. It has to be done by mail. +It all depends how well the letter is written, how everything is +explained and how the idea of being a merchant's wife strikes her. +She is a queer girl, like all the American women are." + +"Can your Liza read and write letters?" + +"Of course, she can. Liza is a lady of some standing. She can +write and read like our priest. She is a highly educated girl." + +"So you think a strong letter will fix her up?" + +"Exactly. And tell her everything you plan to do." + +Petka took Liza's address, drank a glass of vodka to the success +of the plan and left the old peddler still harping on his daughter. +All the way home and many days afterwards Petka could think of nothing +else. It seemed to him the greatest opportunity in the world to +marry a girl from America. But now and then he got skeptical of +his ability to get such a prize. However, he decided to try. He +admitted that the whole success lay in the shaping of a strong and +convincing letter and sending it to her properly. Petka knew how +to write letters, but the question was would his style be impressive +enough to influence a girl in America to come to Russia and marry +a man whom she had never seen? However, Petka knew Platon, the +village saloon-keeper, as the most gifted man for that purpose. +But in a case like this he hated to take anybody into his confidence. + +After arriving home Petka began to practice, writing a love letter +every day. But nothing came of it. One letter was too mild, the +other too extravagant. Finally he gave it up, and whispered his +secret to the inn-keeper, saying: + +"Now, old man, do me the great favor and I'll fix you up when I get +her dowry. I want the letter to be strong and tender at the same +time." + +The inn-keeper consented. But Petka had to tell all the details +and the specifications. Evan Platon admitted that it required some +skill to write the letter. When he had thought the matter over +carefully, made some notes and discussed the subject with Petka +from every angle, he took a long sheet of paper, glued a rose in +the corner and wrote as follows: + +"Highly respected Mademoiselle Liza:--You have never been in our +village, but it is a peach. I am the cream of the place. I have +here all the girls I need. I have a house and my business. But +the point is I want to open a store and need a wife with experience. +We have all the money. But I need some capital to begin. As you +have all that and besides, I have fallen in love with you, I lay +the offer before your tender feet. Your beautiful image has haunted +me day and night, and your wonderful eyes follow me in my dreams, +oh, you lovely rose! If you are ready to marry a merchant like +myself, do not waste any time, but come over and let's have a marriage +ceremony as the world has never seen here. However, before you do +come, send me an early reply with a rosy yes. Most affectionately +and respectfully, Petka Petroff." + +"It's bully, it's superb," praised the tailor. "But it lacks the +tender touch. It lacks that style which the city women like." + +"I put in the punch, but you can add a love poem from some school-book +if you like," protested the inn-keeper. "The city girls are funny +creatures. Sometimes they like the finger, other times the fist. +Who knows the taste of your Liza! The waitresses of big cities +are usually broad-minded and highly educated." + +After the poem was added and another rose glued on the corner of +the letter, it was mailed, registered, with a note "highly urgent," +and Petka breathed freely, like one who had survived a great ordeal. + +Two months of heavy waiting passed and still no reply from Liza. +Petka was like one on thorns. His strange romance was already +known to his neighbors and now everybody was expecting the letter +from America to furnish the most sensational news in all the world. + +One afternoon as the tailor was sewing a pair of trousers the +alderman of the village brought him a registered letter from America. +Nearly half the village population had gathered outside, curious +to hear the content of the letter. Petka took tremblingly and +greatly excited the letter and rushed to Platon, the inn-keeper, +all the time followed by the crowd. All the audience gathered in +the inn and Platon was instructed to read it aloud to the gathering. +As it was a ceremonial event of rare occasion, the inn-keeper stood +up, and began in a solemn voice: + +"My dear Petka: I am most happy to reply to your valued letter +of the fifteenth of July, that I am glad to accept your proposal. +But everything must be all right. I can marry only a man of the +merchant class. I know the business and I can supply you with the +capital you need. But you must remember that I do not like to be +fooled and marry a man beneath me. No peasant or tailor for me. +I stand here very high and cannot ruin my name. You have not told +me your age, but I suppose you are not an old fogey. I will follow +this letter next month, so you fix the wedding ceremony, secure all +the musicians and manage the meals, drinks and such necessities. +If this is not agreeable cable me. Your Liza." + +While Platon was reading the letter Petka gazed dreamily out of +the window and built, not an air castle, but a large grocery store, +with showy windows. It seemed as if he saw his store already +opened, the people going and coming, the shelves filled with cans +and packages. The sign "Merchant Petka" hung in his eyes. + +The letter was like a bomb in the idyllic village. Plans were made +of the wedding date and elaborate ceremony. The village Luga had +never witnessed yet a marriage ceremony of this magnitude. The +American bride was like a fairy princess of some ancient times. +Petka was like one in a trance. But Vasska, the blacksmith, opposed +to the idea of such a strange marriage, pounded his hand against +the bar, exclaiming: + +"Liza may be all right, but Petka should not marry her. What do +we know about an American woman? What do we know about her habits? +I've been told funny stories about such strange women. I've heard +that nearly every American woman paints her cheeks, dyes her hair, +wears false teeth, puts up bluffs and does everything to deceive a +man. Spit at her capital. Besides, this American Liza is a woman +whom nobody here knows." + +The blacksmith's arguments were taken seriously by the others and +a gloom came over the gathered gossips. But the inn-keeper, who +was always optimistic, replied: + +"American Liza must be a refined girl, and she has the money. That's +what Petka wants, and that's what he will get. So we better let +the wedding take place and see what will happen. I've heard that +an American woman looks at the marriage as a business proposition, +so we let her do what she pleases." + +"Business or no business, but we take the marriage seriously. If +a man makes up his mind that he likes a woman, he must marry her, +and once he has married her, no ax or pike shall separate them. No +monkeying with married men or women thereafter," argued the serious +blacksmith. + +Petka turned the conversation to the subject of the wedding meals +and music. The whole program of the ceremony was analyzed and +discussed in detail, some maintaining that the American custom +was to eat with forks and knives from the plates, others that only +uncooked meat was eaten and frogs served as delicacies. Finally +the entertainment was arranged and the blacksmith remarked: + +"All city women like fun and don't care about serious affairs. +They have the theaters and operas for amusements, so we better get +a real amusement for American Liza. The best fun would be a huge +hurdy-gurdy or something of that kind, an instrument with sensation. +Our village violins and harps are too mild for women like that +Liza." + +After discussing the matter at length, the inn-keeper agreed to take +care of the entertainment. A short cable was composed and sent to +Liza and the wedding date clearly explained. All the village got +alive with the news that Petka was to marry an American girl by +mail. + +The three weeks of preparation for the wedding festival passed like +a dream. The Sunday, that was to be the final date, began bright +and cheerful. Petka was hustling to and fro in his newly rented +house, the front of which was to be arranged for the grocery store, +strutted like a big rooster preparing the affairs of his flock. At +the entrance of the house was hung a big flag. Long tables were +arranged in all the rooms, covered with meats, drinks and delicacies, +all prepared in the village. Women were still busy baking other +foods, frying meats and boiling water for tea or drinks. Everybody +was busy and everything looked most solemn and impressive. The +host was dressed in a picturesque new suit of clothes with a silk +scarf around his neck. + +While the groom was busy with preparing his heart for joy, the +inn-keeper was solving the problem of the entertainment. He had +constructed, what he thought to be distinctly American, a huge +music-box, which was to produce the most wonderful tones ever +heard. This instrument had the appearance of a big wine-cask and +yet a street-organ at the same time, and was an invention of the +ingenious inn-keeper. It was practically a barrel, covered with +illustrations of old Sunday newspapers and county-fair posters. +To its side was fastened an improvised lever, made from a broken +cart-wheel. Under this barrel, concealed so that no one could see +within, were placed three most prominent musicians of the village, +Ivan with his violin, Semen with his concertina and Nicholas with +his drum. As soon as the conductor outside pulled a string, the +lever began to turn around and the musicians in the barrel had to +start to play. In the corner of the house this strange instrument +looked like a mysterious engine, one knew not whether to expect it +to develop into a flying or moving picture machine. + +At last everything was ready. The guests began to arrive and the +carriage was sent to the town to bring the bride. Everybody was +in festival attire and all tuned to expect the utmost excitements +the village had ever had. One could see the people in groups of +three or four, discussing in a high pitch of voice the wonders of +the wedding festival or venturing various guesses about the American +bride. The village girls, who were not a little jealous, nudged +each other and exchanged meaning glances, that Petka was to get +in a fix he had never been before. All were anxious to see the +arrival of the two thousand-ruble bride. The blacksmith and the +inn-keeper were discussing something excitedly. + +"Say what you want, but this kind of matrimonial affair is the +limit," argued the blacksmith, pushing back his hat. "I can't see +how a woman comes such a distance and so many weeks to marry Petka, +whom she has never seen, and how Petka gets the crazy thought +to marry a city woman whom he does not know. Something is wrong +somewhere. This is going to bust sooner or later." + +"My dear Vasska, it's the education, the refinement and all that +which I and you can do without," grunted the inn-keeper. + +Vasska rubbed his fists and spat vigorously. The inn-keeper tried +to mollify him by saying that he should not take the matter so +seriously. + +Suddenly the dogs began to bark and the boys shouted: + +"The American bride! Here comes the lady from abroad!" + +All the guests rushed out to see her. And there she was, in a +big flower-trimmed hat, with a silk parasol, and all the wonderful +fineries. She looked so elegant, so superior that the village women, +accustomed to their rural simplicity, felt overawed. The groom +hurrying with throbbing heart to open the gates of the front-yard +bowed almost to the ground to the dazzling reality of his romantic +dreams. He was so confused by this apparition that he did not know +whether to shout or cry. + +"My gracious, how she is made up!" whispered the women. + +"What a wonderful dress!" whispered the girls. + +"Ain't you Petka? You deary!" exclaimed the bride, affecting a +foreign accent. + +"Yes, mademoiselle, gracious yes," stammered the groom nervously, +wiping the tears of joy from his eyes. + +"Gee, Petka, you are a nice boy!" gushed the bride, trying to show +the quality of her refinement. + +She took his both hands and whispered that he should kiss them +gracefully in the American manner. Then she leaned her head on +his shoulder and sighed. These American manners so embarrassed +the groom that he blushed and dropped his eyes. But after all, was +she not a highly educated American lady? And of course, she knew +what was proper. + +Though Liza looked ten years older than Petka, yet she had all the +city air, the American manners and style, and most important of +all, she had the capital. The first question Liza asked was whether +they had a manicure, hair-dresser and boot-black in the village. +No one had ever heard that such functionaries existed, so the groom +explained excitedly that he would take her after the wedding to +the town where she could get what she wanted. Petka carried the +trunk and the five suit-cases into he house, implements which on +one had ever seen. All the novelties and sensations were so great +that the guests and the groom felt dazed for a moment. + +"Have you got here champagne?" asked the bride, entering the house. + +"We do not have such American drinks. We have kvas, beer, vodka +and all the home-made cordials," stammered the groom. + +"But you must have some high-balls or cocktails at least," went on +the bride with an affected gesture. + +"My gracious, there we are!" groaned the groom, and shrugged +denyingly his shoulders. "We've never handled those things here, +so you must forgive us." + +"Mademoiselle Liza, I beg your pardon," interrupted the inn-keeper +seriously. "We can arrange the balls and the tails, but you see +we are simply country people and keep our bowels in order. City +amusements put our stomachs in a bad fix and don't agree with us." + +The groom felt embarrassed and did not know what to do. He bowed +apologetically before his bride and tried to please her in every +possible way. He imitated her gestures and manners, her shrugs +and voice. He even kept his hands on his breast, as was Liza's +manner. Finally the bride asked whether there was any entertainment +prepared as she had asked. The groom gave the inn-keeper a hint +and the latter said that he would do his best. The three musicians +were already concealed with their instruments in a big barrel and +the imposing organist began his function. Strains of an unique +music issued from the decorated music-box. Everybody at once rushed +into the room. All stared amazed at the strange contrivance which +played at one and the same time concertina, violin and drum. It +was like a miracle, gripping and inspiring. + +"I bet you this would interest your American audiences," remarked +the inn-keeper to the bride. + +"It beats the Coney Island noise," stammered Liza, and took up the +conversation with a village woman. + +All the house now was jollity. The room was bursting of the powerful +music, the laughter and the loud conversation of the guests. How +it happened no one knows, but one of the women had placed a bowl +with hot punch on the music box. Whether through an accident, or +the excitement of the organist, the vessel broke, and the punch +leaked through the cracks and holes into the instrument. Suddenly +the music stopped, although the conductor was still industriously +turning the lever. Then were heard mysterious voices and sounds +as if of muffled exclamations. Everybody looked at the music-box, +which began to quake and tremble as if a ghost were within. Then +arose fierce yells and agonizing cries, mixed with loud curses. +Before anybody could realize what had happened, three angry musicians +leaped from the music instrument, the steaming punch dropping from +their heads. + +"Good Lord, what's this?" gasped the men while the women shrieked +and fled. One of the musicians put his fist under the frightened +organist and shouted: + +"I'll pay for this joke, you scoundrel!" + +"Semen, don't be a fool. I didn't do it. By Jove, I didn't do +it," exclaimed apologetically the organist, trembling. + +"Damn, who did it?" asked the groom excited. + +No one replied. And when the people realized what had happened, +everybody roared. No one who glanced at the overturned music +instrument and at the musicians, with their punch-dropping heads +could restrain their laughter. Even the pompous bride found it so +funny that she laughed with the rest. + +When the excitement was over and the dessert was ready the wedding +guests once more took their seats at the table. The inn-keeper, +thinking that this was the moment to settle the matter of dowry, +before the actual marriage act could be performed by the priest, +knocked on the table for quiet. Then he arose, wiped his beard +and began: + +"Friends, this is a very unusual ceremony, our best known citizen +and friend Petka, marrying a girl from America. Petka loves Liza, +it is all right. But I know and so all our guests know, that Petka +expected the bride to bring a fat dowry. Now we all would like to +see the bride place her dowry upon the table before she is declared +the wife of our friend, Petka. We think that in justice to the +guests she ought to do that, because it was understood that she +bring the money and we give her the husband. Don't you think, +friends and guests, that I am right?" + +Everybody shouted "Bravo, inn-keeper," only the groom and the bride +sat silent with downcast eyes. Finally the bride glanced at Petka, +pulled a bag from her dress, opened it and laid a bunch of green +bills on the table. All eyes stared in awe at the money, and the +guests were so silent that one could hear the beating of their +hearts. Only the purring of the cats, looking curiously down from +the big stove, was to be heard. + +"Here is the dowry, right here. It is in American money, one +thousand dollars, which is equal to two thousand rubles in your +money. It's all in cash," exclaimed the bride proudly. + +The inn-keeper took the bills, looked at them curiously, turned +them over and over and shook his head. The blacksmith took one bill +after the other, and did the same. For several minutes everybody +was quiet. The "organist" who sat next to the inn-keeper, took +the money, looked at it still more closely and then smelled it. +Taking one of the bills in his hand, he rose and showed it to all +the guests and asked: + +"Friends, have you ever seen this kind of money?" + +"No," was the unanimous reply of the guests. + +"Can any one here read American?" asked the blacksmith. + +No one replied. + +"The money is all right. I rushed to reach the train so I had no +time to exchange it into your rubles," replied the bride. + +"It might be all right," replied the inn-keeper, "but what do we +know about the American money and its value? I've been told many +stories of American girls boasting they have money enough to buy +their husband, but heaven knows. It's a country too far away and +a language too complicated for us to understand. We like to have +our stuff on the table before everything is all right." + +The bride glanced at the groom. The groom took silently her hand, +assuring her that he cared nothing for what her dowry was worth, +if he had only her as his wife. + +"What nonsense! I came on Petka's invitation, and I'll stay with him, +do you let the priest marry us or not. We can go both to America +and marry there, but never here," exclaimed the bride, tossing her +head and snorting her indignation. As she rose, she took Petka by +his hand and gave this parting thrust: + +"Do you want or not, but I'll stay with Petka here. We don't care +for your priest. I keep the American law and know what's what." + +"Liza, Liza, listen. Don't make a scandal like that here. Let's +better harness our horses and get to the priest as fast as we can," +shouted the excited guests, all following the couple. + +[signed]Ivan Narodny + + + + + +The Insane Priest + + + + +A priest insane went many days without repose or sleep, +"My visions are a shadow world but love is real and deep." +He, like a prophet, staff in hand, sought out a distant shrine. +"As sacred ash are all my dreams, and fateful love is mine." +Long, long he knelt and prayed alone, his tears fell unrestrained. +"My visions are the snow-crowned heights, my love the flood unchained." +A sacrifice he laid upon that altar far away. +"My visions are a dream of dawn, my love the radiant day." +A knife he thrust into his heart, to seal the holy rite. +"My visions all resplendent glow, my love is like the night." +And on the altar falling prone, he then gave up his soul. +"My visions are the lightning's flash, my love the thunder's roll." +Upon the altar poured his blood, it formed a crimson pall. +"As his deliriums are my dreams, as death my love my all." + +Sergey Makowsky +Translation by Constance Purdy + +Note: To this poem Mr. Reinhold Gliere has composed a magnificent +musical setting with piano and orchestra accompaniment and dedicated +it to a prominent Russian revolutionist. + + + + + +Without a Country + + + + +One thought awakes us early in the morning, +One thought follows us the whole day long, +One thought stabs at night our breast: +Is my father suffering? + +One sorrow awakes us at dawn like an executioner, +One sorrow is persecuting us ceaselessly, +One sorrow is swelling our breast the whole night long: +Is my mother alive? + +A longing awakes us at daybreak, +A longing is continually hidden in our heart, +A longing is burning at night in our breast; +What of my wife? + +A fear awakes us early like a funeral mass, +A fear persecutes us and darkens our eyes, +A fear fills at night our breast with hatred: +Our sisters are threatened with shame. + +A pain awakens us in the morning like a trumpet, +With pain is filled every glass we drink +With pain is secretly weeping our breast: +Where are our children? + +...Only one way will give an answer: +Through a river of blood and over a bridge of dead! +Woe! you will reach your home where the mother, who died of sorrow, +Does not wait for her son any more. + +M. Boich + +Note: M. Boich is a young Serbian poet, now about twenty-six +years old, who already has a recognized place in modern Serbian +Literature. The poem "Without a Country" was written after the +well-known Serbian tragedy of 1915, and was published last year +(March 28) in the official Serbian journal "Srpske Novine," which +now appears at Corfu. + + + + + +Indian Prayer to the Mountain Spirit + + + + +Lord of the Mountain, +Reared within the Mountain +Young Man, Chieftain, +Hear a young man's prayer! + +Hear a prayer for cleanness. +Keeper of the strong rain, +Drumming on the mountain; +Lord of the small rain +That restores the earth in newness; +Keeper of the clean rain, +Hear a prayer for wholeness. + +Young Man, Chieftain. +Hear a prayer for fleetness. +Keeper of the deer's way, +Reared among the eagles, +Clear my feet of slothness. +Keeper of the paths of men, +Hear a prayer for straightness. + +Hear a prayer for braveness. +Lord of the thin peaks, +Reared amid the thunders; +Keeper of the headlands +Holding up the harvest, +Keeper of the strong rocks +Hear a prayer for staunchness. + +Young Man, Chieftain, +Spirit of the Mountain! + +Interpreted by [signed] Mary Austin + + + + + +To America--4 July, 1776 + + + + +When England's king put English to the horn[1], +To England thus spake England over sea, +"In peace be friend, in war my enemy"; +Then countering pride with pride, and lies with scorn, +Broke with the man[2] whose ancestor had borne +A sharper pain for no more injury. +How otherwise should free men deal and be, +With patience frayed and loyalty outworn? + No act of England's shone more generous gules +Than that which sever'd once for all the strands +Which bound you English. You may search the lands +In vain, and vainly rummage in the schools, +To find a deed more English, or a shame +On England with more honor to her name. + +[written] Respectfully submitted to the Defenders of Democracy + +[signed] M. Hewlett + +(Westluilaruig[illegible, this is a guess], Chichester, England) + +[1] To "put to the horn" was to declare an outlawry. +[2] The "man" is George III, his "ancestor," Charles I. + + + + + +The Need of Force to Win and Maintain Peace + + + + +Must, then, gentle and reasonable men and women give over their sons +to the National Government to be trained for the devilish work of +war? Must civilized society continue to fight war with war? Is +not the process a complete failure? Shall we not henceforth contend +against evil-doing by good-doing, against brutality by gentleness, +against vice in others solely by virtue in ourselves? + +There are many sound answers to these insistent queries. One is +the policeman, usually a protective and adjusting force, but armed +and trained to hurt and kill in defense of society against criminals +and lunatics. Another is the mother who blazes into violence, with +all her might, in defense of her child. Even the little birds do +that. Another is the instinctive forcible resistance of any natural +man to insult or injury committed or threatened against his mother, +wife, or daughter. The lions and tigers do as much. A moving +answer of a different sort is found in words written by Mme. le +Verrier to the parents of Victor Chapman on her return from his +funeral in the American Church in Paris--"It...has brought home to +me the beauty of heroic death and the meaning of life." + +The answer from history is that primitive Governments were despotic, +and in barbarous societies might makes right; but that liberty +under law has been wrung from authority and might by strenuous +resistance, physical as well as moral, and not by yielding +to injustice and practising non-resistance. The Dutch Republic, +the British Commonwealth, the French Republic, the Italian and +Scandinavian constitutional monarchies, and the American republics +have all been developed by generations of men ready to fight and +fighting. + +So long as there are wolves, sheep cannot form a safe community. +The precious liberties which a few more fortunate or more vigorous +nations have won by fighting for them generation after generation, +those nations will have to preserve by keeping ready to fight in +their defense. + +The only complete answer to these arguments in favor of using force +in defense of liberty is that liberty is not worth the cost. In +free countries to-day very few persons hold that opinion. + +[signed] Charles W. Eliot + + + + + +Woman and Mercy + + + + +Woman and Mercy--to think of one is to think of the other, and yet +the suggestion of ideas is purely Christian. The ancient world knew +of a few great women who transcended the conditions of society in +those days and helped, each one her country, in some extraordinary +way. Thus Deborah helped the people of God in a time of terrible +difficulty. And even the Pagan world was not without its Semiramis +and its Portia. When mercy came into the world with Christianity +the dispensation of it was largely committed to the gentle hands +of women, for since men have believed that God has taken a woman +to be His human mother, the position of every woman has been that +of a mother and of a queen. The wife has become the guardian of +the internal affairs of the home as the husband is of its external +affairs. + +Whenever women have acted up to the noble ideals of womanhood +preached by the Christian religion, they have received honor, +respect, deference and almost worship from the ruder sex. + +It gives me great pleasure to think that in our own country so +many women have banded themselves together for such a noble ideal +as that embodied in the very name of "The Militia of Mercy." Here +in her true sphere, as nurse, woman will shed the gentle light +of mercy over the gory battle field and amid the pain and wounds +of the hospital wards; or, if she is not called to such active +participation she will find means to hold up the hands of those +more actively engaged, and in countless ways will she be able to +mitigate the evils of this most terrible of all wars, and not least +of all because of the gift of piety with which Almighty God has so +generously endowed her. Her unceasing prayers will ascend to the +throne of God for those engaged in this terrible struggle, and +mercies and blessings will be drawn down upon multitudes of people +whom she has never seen. + +I bid Godspeed to The Militia of Mercy, and I hope that every +American woman who can will take part in this most womanly and most +patriotic work. + +[signed] J. Cardinal Gibbons + + + + + +Joan of Arc--Her Heritage + + + + +I saw in Orleans three years ago the celebration of the 487th +Anniversary of the deliverance of the ancient city by Joan of Arc. + +The flower of the French army passed before me, the glorious +sunlight touching sword and lance and bayonet tip until they formed +a shimmering fretwork of steel. Then came the City Fathers in +democratic dress--and following them, the dignitaries of the Church, +in purple and crimson and old lace, and a host of choir boys singing +Glory to God in the Highest, and finally in his splendid scarlet +robe, a cardinal symbolical of power and majesty and dominion. + +In whose honor was all this gorgeous pageantry? In honor of a simple +peasant girl, who saw or thought she saw visions--it is perfectly +immaterial whether she did or not--and who heard or fancied she +heard--it matters not--voices calling to her out of the silences +of the night to go forth and save France. Soldiers and clergy and +populace, Catholics and Protestants and pagans united in paying +homage to the courage of a woman. And I thought as I watched +the brilliant spectacle in the shadow of the old cathedral, that +thousands of women in the twentieth century in England and America, +and France and Germany and all the Nations are serving in a different +way, it is true, from the way in which Joan of Arc served France, +but none the less effectively. Aye, even more so, as they go forth +clad not in mail, but in Christian love to help mankind. In the +very forefront of this shining host are the trained nurses, following +the standard uplifted by Florence Nightingale. + +When I see a trained nurse in her attractive cap and gown I always +feel that a richer memory, a finer intention has been read into +life. Wherever they go they carry healing with them. + +To maintain this army of militant good will and helpfulness, and +to increase it as occasion requires is an obligation so imperative +that it cannot be evaded. + +Never was it as urgent as it is to-day, that there should be generous +response to the appeal for nurses. + +If we are often discouraged in our philanthropic work, it is not +because we consider what we are doing in a detached way, independent +of its world relationships. If we could only realize that we are +part of the mighty army composed of all nationalities and races +and creeds, an army of life, not of death, marching past disease +and suffering and misery and sin, we would be inspired to wage the +conflict with greater vigor, until our vision of the world freed +from suffering, was realized. + +When the realization comes, it will not come with shouting and +tumult, but will come quietly and beautifully as the sun makes its +triumphant progress through the heavens, gradually conquering the +night until at last the earth is flooded with glorious warmth and +light and all the formless shapes that loved darkness rather than +light silently steal away and are forgotten. + +John Lewis Griffiths + +Note: Although the above selection was part of an address delivered in +London in 1911, its truth is more apparent today than ever before. + + + + + +Things Which Cannot Be Shaken + + + + +There are season in life when everything seems to be shaking. Old +landmarks are crumbling. Venerable foundations are upheaved in a +night, and are scattered abroad as dust. Guiding buoys snap their +moorings, and go drifting down the channel. Institutions which +promised to outlast the hills collapse like a stricken tent. +Assumptions in which everybody trusted burst like air-balloons. +Everything seems to lose its base, and trembles in uncertainty and +confusion. + +Such seasons are known in our personal life. One day our +circumstances appear to share the unshaken solidity of the planet, +and our security is complete. And then some undreamed-of antagonism +assaults our life. We speak of it as a bolt from the blue! +Perhaps it is some stunning disaster in business. Or perhaps death +has leaped into our quiet meadows. Or perhaps some presumptuous +sin has suddenly revealed its foul face in the life of one of our +children. And we are "all at sea!" Our little, neat hypotheses +crumple like withered leaves. Our accustomed roads are all broken +up, our conventional ways of thinking and feeling, and the sure +sequences on which we have depended vanish in a night. It is +experiences like these which make the soul cry out with the psalmist, +in bewilderment and fear,--"My foot slippeth!" His customary +foothold had given way. The ground was shaking beneath him. The +foundations trembled. + +And such seasons are known in the life of nations. An easy-going +traditionalism can be overturned in a single blast. Conventional +standards, which seemed to have the fixedness of the stars are +blown to the winds. Political and economic safeguards go down like +wooden fences before an angry sea. The customary foundations of +society are shaken. We must surely have had such experiences as +these during the past weeks and months. What was unthinkable has +become a commonplace. The impossible has happened. Our working +assumptions are in ruins. Common securities have vanished. And +on every side men and women are whispering the question,--Where +are we? We are all staggered! And everywhere men and women, in +their own way, are whispering the confession of the psalmist,--"My +foot slippeth!" + +Well, where are we? Amid all these violations of our ideals, and +the quenching of our hopes, in this riot of barbarism and unutterable +sorrow, where are we? Where can we find a footing? Where can +we stay our souls? Where can we set our feet as upon solid rock? +Amid the many things which are shaking what things are there which +cannot be shaken? + +"Things which cannot be shaken." Let us begin here: THE SUPREMACY +OF SPIRITUAL FORCES CANNOT BE SHAKEN. The obtrusive circumstances +of the hour shriek against that creed. Spiritual forces seem to +be overwhelmed. We are witnessing a perfect carnival of insensate +materialism. The narratives which fill the columns of the daily +press reek with the fierce spectacle of labor and achievement. +And yet, in spite of all this appalling outrage upon the sense, we +must steadily beware of becoming the victims of the apparent and +the transient. Behind the uncharted riot there hides a power whose +invisible energy is the real master of the field. The ocean can +be lashed by the winds into indescribable fury, and the breakers +may rise and fall in crushing weight and disaster; and yet behind +and beneath all the wild phenomena there is a subtle, mystical +force which is exerting its silent mastery even at the very height +of the storm. We must discriminate between the phenomenal and +the spiritual, between the event of the hour and the drift of the +year, between the issue of a battle and the tendency of a campaign. +All of which means that "While we look at the things which are seen, +we are also to look at the things which are not seen." Well, look +at them. + +THE POWER OF TRUTH can never be shaken. The force of disloyalty +may have its hour of triumph, and treachery may march for a season +to victory after victory; but all the while truth is secretly +exercising her mastery, and in the long run the labor of falsehood +will crumble into ruin. There is no permanent conquest for a lie. +You can no more keep the truth interred than you could keep the +Lord interred in Joseph's tomb. You cannot bury the truth, you +cannot strangle her, you cannot even shake her! You may burn up +the records of the truth, but you cannot impair the truth itself! +When the records are reduced to ashes truth shall walk abroad as +an indestructible angel and minister of the Lord! "He shall give +His angels charge over thee," and truth is one of His angels, and +she cannot be destroyed. + +There was a people in the olden days who sought to find security +in falsehood, and to construct a sovereignty by the aid of broken +covenants. Let me read to you their boasts as it is recorded +by the prophet Isaiah: "We have made a covenant with death, and +with hell are we at agreement: when the overflowing scourge shall +pass through, it shall not come unto us, for we have made lies our +refuge, and under falsehood have we hid ourselves." And so they +banished truth. But banished truth is not vanquished truth. Truth +is never idle; she is ever active and ubiquitous, she is forever +and forever our antagonist or our friend. "Therefore thus saith the +Lord God...your covenant with death shall be disannulled, and your +agreement with hell shall not stand...and the hail shall sweep away +the refuge of lies, and the waters shall overflow the hiding-places." +Thus said the Lord! We may silence a fort, but we cannot paralyze +the truth. Amid all the material convulsions of the day the +supremacy of truth remains unshaken. "The mouth of the Lord hath +spoken it." + +"Things which cannot be shaken!" What is there which cannot be +shaken? THE PASSION OF FREEDOM is one of the rarest of spiritual +flames, and it can not be quenched. Make your appeal to history. +Again and again militarism has sought to crush it, but it has +seemed to share the very life of God. Brutal inspirations have +tried to smother it, but it has breathed an indestructible life. +Study its energy in the historical records of the Book or in annals +of a wider field. Study the passion of freedom amid the oppressions +of Egypt, or in the captivity of Babylon, or in the servitude of +Rome. How does the passion express itself? "If I forget thee, O +Jerusalem, may my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth, and may +my right hand forget her cunning!" Study it in the glowing pages +of the history of this country, that breath of free aspiration which +no power of armament, and no menace of material strength was ever +able to destroy. The mightiest force in all those days was not +the power of threat, and powder, and sword, but that breath of +invincible aspiration which was the very breath of God. And when +we gaze upon stricken Belgium to-day, and look upon her sorrows, +and her smitten fields, and her ruined cities, and her desolate +homes, we can firmly and confidently proclaim that the breath +of that divinely planted aspiration, her passion of freedom, will +prove to be mightier than all the materialistic strength and all +the prodigious armaments which seem to have laid her low. It is +a reality which cannot be shaken. + +There are other spiritual forces which we might have named, and which +would have manifested the same incontestable supremacy: there is +the energy of meekness, that spirit of docility which communes with +the Almighty in hallowed and receptive awe: there is the boundless +vitality of love which lives on through midnight after midnight, +unfainting and unspent: there is the inexhaustible energy of faith +which hold on and out amid the massed hostilities of all its foes. +You cannot defeat spirits like these, you cannot crush and destroy +them. You cannot hold them under, for their supremacy shares the +holy sovereignty of the eternal God. "Not by might, nor by power, +but by my Spirit, saith the Lord;" and these spirits, the spirit +of truth, the spirit of freedom, the spirit of meekness and love, +are in fellowship with the divine Spirit, and therefore shall they +remain unshaken. + +[signed]J.H. Jowett + + + + + +Somewhere in France + + + + +"Somewhere in France"--the day is tranquil, the sky unvexed, the +green earth without a wound as I write; yet "somewhere in France" +the day is torn with clamors, the sky is soiled with man's mounting +hatred of man, and long, open wounds lie cruelly across the disputed +earth. "Somewhere in France"--my mind goes back to remembered +scenes: the crowd blocking the approach to a depot; white faces +and staring eyes, eyes that alternately fear and hope, and in the +crush a tickling gray line of returning PERMISSIONAIRES. "Somewhere +in France"--on such a perfect day as this I see a little village +street nestled among the trees, and hear the sound of the postman's +reluctant feet tapping over the cobblestones--the postman that comes +with the relentlessness of Fate--and at every house the horror of +the black envelope. "Somewhere in France" the great immemorial +cathedrals and the dotted, cool, moss-covered churches are filled +with supplicating women and the black-framed, golden locks of +children lifting their eyes before the Great Consoler as the sun +breaks through the paling candle-flames. "Somewhere in France"--in +its crowded stations I remember a proud womanhood, gray in +the knowledge of sorrow, speeding its young sons and speaking the +Spartan words. "Somewhere in France," in its thousand hospitals, +the ministering white-clad angels are moving in their long vigils, +calm, smiling, inspired. "Somewhere in France"--I see again +imperishable fragments of remembered emotions; the women working +in the vineyards of Champagne, careless of fate or the passing +shells; the orphan children playing in the ruins of Rheims; a laughing +child in bombarded Arras running out to pick up an exploded shell, +a child in whom daily habits has brought fear into contempt; a +skeleton of a church in far-flung Bethany, that still lives in a +sea of fire, where a black-coated priest of the unflinching faith +was holding his mass among kneeling men before an altar hidden in +the last standing corner from which the shredded ruins had been +swept. + +"Somewhere in France"--I remember the volcanic earth, the strewn +ruin of all things, the prostrate handiwork of man mingled with +the indignant bowels of the earth, and from a burrowed hole a POILU +laughing out at us in impertinent greeting, with a gaiety which is +more difficult than courage. + +"Somewhere in France"--in bombarded Arras, was it not?--I remember +an old woman, a very old woman, leaning on her cane as she peered +from her cellar door within a hundred yards of the smoldering cathedral. +I wonder if she still lives, for Arras will be struggling back to +life now. + +"Somewhere in France"--what thronged memories troop at these liberating +words! And yet, through all the passing drama of remembered little +things, what I see always before my eyes is the spiritual rise of +Verdun. Verdun, heroic sister of the Marne; Verdun, the battling +heart of France--whose stained slopes are anointed by the blood +of a million men. Verdun! The very name has the upward fury and +descending shock of an attacking wave dying against an immemorial +shore. To have seen it as I was privileged to see it in that +historic first week of August, 1915, at the turning of the tide, +at the moment of the retaking of Fleury and Thiaumont, was to have +stood between two great spectacles: the written page of a defense +such as history has never seen, and the future, glowing with the +unquenchable fire of undying France. When I think of the flaming +courage of that heroic race, my imagination returns always to the +vision of that defense--not the patient fortitude before famine of +Paris, Sebastopol or Mafeking, but that miracle of patience and +calm in the face of torrential rains of steel which for months +swept the human earth in such a deluge as never before had been +sent in punishment upon the world. This was no adventure such as +that gambling with fate which in all times and in all forms has +stirred the spirit of man. Regiment after regiment marched down into +the maw of hell, into the certainty of death. They went forward, +not to dare, but to die, in that sublimest spirit of exultation +and sacrifice of which humanity is capable, that the children of +France might live free and unafraid, Frenchmen in a French land. +They went in regiment after regiment, division after division--living +armies to replace the ghostly armies that had held until they died. +Days without nights, weeks without a breathing spell--five months +and more. They lie there now, the human wall of France, that no +artillery has ever mastered or ever will, to prove that greater +than all the imagined horror of man's instinct of destruction, +undaunted before the new death that rocks the earth beneath him +and pollutes the fair vision of the sky above, the spirit of man +abides superior. Death is but a material horror; the will to live +free is the immortal thing. + +[signed] Owen Johnson + + + + + +The Associated Press + + + + +It is worth while to explain how the world's news is gathered and +furnished in a newspaper issued at one cent a copy. First, as +to the foreign news, which is, of course, the most difficult to +obtain and the most expensive. In normal times there are the four +great agencies which, with many smaller and tributary agencies, +are covering the whole world. These four agencies are, as above +noted, the Reuter Telegram Company, Ltd., of London, which assumes +responsibility for the news of the great British Empire, including +the home land, every colony except Canada, and the Suzerain, +or allied countries, as Egypt, Turkey, and even China and Japan; +and the Agency Havas of Paris, taking care of the Latin countries, +France, Italy, Spain, Portugal, Belgium, Switzerland and South +America as well as Northern Africa; and the Wolff Agency of Berlin, +reporting the happening in the Teutonic, Scandinavian, and Slav +nations. These three organizations are allied with The Associated +Press in an exclusive exchange arrangement. Subordinate to these +agencies is a smaller one in almost every nation, having like +exchange agreements with the larger companies. + +Thus it happens that there is not a place of moment in the habitable +globe that is not provided for. Moreover, there is scarcely a +reporter on any paper in the world who does not, in a sense, become +a representative of all these four agencies. Not only are there +these alliances, but in every important capital of every country, and +in a great many of the other larger cities abroad there are "A.P." +men, trained by long experience in its offices in this country. +This is done because, first, the organization is naturally anxious +to view every country with American eyes; and, second, because a +number of the agencies spoken of are under the influence of their +Governments and, therefore, not always trustworthy. They are relied +upon for a certain class of news, as for instance, accidents by +flood and field, where there is no reason for any misrepresentation +on their part. But where it is a question which may involve national +pride or interest, or where there is a possibility of partisanship +or untruthfulness, the "A.P." men are trusted. + +Now, assume that a fire has broken out in Benares, the sacred +city of the Hindus, on the banks of the Ganges, and a hundred or a +thousand people have lost their lives. Not far away, at Allahabad +or at Calcutta, is a daily paper, having a correspondent at Benares, +who reports the disaster fully. Some one on this paper sends the +story, or as much of it as is of general rather than local interest, +to the agent of the Reuter Company at Calcutta, Bombay, or Madras; +and thence it is cabled to London and Hongkong, and Sydney and +Tokio. At each of these places there are Associated Press men, +one of whom picks it up and forwards it to New York. + +The wide world is combed for news, and an incredibly short time +is delivered and printed everywhere. When Pope [Leo] XIII died in +Rome the fact was announced by an Associated Press dispatch in the +columns of a San Francisco paper in nine minutes from the instant +when he breathed his last. And this message was repeated back to +London, Paris, and Rome, and gave those cities the first information +of the event. When Port Arthur was taken by the Japanese in the +war of 1896 it came to us in New York in fifty minutes, although +it passed through twenty-seven relay offices. Few of the operators +transmitting it knew what the dispatch meant. But they understood +the Latin letters, and sent it on from station to station, letter +by letter. + +When Peary came back from his great discovery in the Arctic Sea +he reached Winter Harbor, on the coast of Labrador, and from there +sent me a wireless message that he had nailed the Stars and Stripes +to the North Pole. This went to Sydney, on Cape Breton Island, +and was forwarded thence by cable and telegraph to New York. + +The organization is cooperative in its character. As a condition +of membership, each one belonging agrees to furnish to his +fellow-members, either directly or through the Association, and +to them exclusively, the news of his vicinage, as gathered by him +for his own paper. This constitutes the large fountain from which +our American news supply is drawn. But, as in the case of the +foreign official agencies, if there be danger that an individual +member is biased, or if the matter be one of high importance, our +own trained and salaried staff men do the reporting. For this +purpose, as well as for administrative work, there is a bureau in +every leading city. + +For the collection and interchange of this information we lease +from the various telephone and telegraph companies, and operate with +our own employees, something like fifty thousand miles of wires, +stretching out in every direction through the country and touching +every important center. To reach smaller cities, the telephone +is employed. Everywhere in every land, and every moment of every +day, there is ceaseless vigil for news. + +People frequently ask what it costs thus to collect the news of the +world. And we cannot answer. Our annual budget is between three +and four million dollars. But this makes no account of the work +done by the individual papers all over the world in reporting the +matters and handling the news over to the agencies. Neither can +we estimate the number of men and women engaged in this fashion. +It is easy to measure the cost of certain specific events; as, for +instance, we expended twenty-eight thousand dollars to report the +Martinique disaster. And the Russo-Japanese war cost us over three +hundred thousand dollars. + +Such is an outline of our activities in what we call normal times. +But these are not normal times. When the great European war broke +on us, eighteen months ago, all of the processes of civilization +seemed to go down in an hour. And we suffered in common with +others. Our international relations for the exchange of news were +instantly dislocated. We had been able to impress the governments +abroad with the value of an impartial and unpurchasable news service, +as opposed to the venal type of journalism, which was too common +on the European continent. And in our behalf they had abolished +their censorships. They had accorded us rules assuring us great +rapidity in the transmission of our messages over their government +telegraph lines. They had opened the doors of their chancelleries +to our correspondents, and told them freely the news as it developed. + +All the advantages ceased. The German news agency was prohibited +from holding any intercourse with the English, French, or Russian +organizations. Simultaneously, like commerce was interdicted in +the other countries. The virtue of impartial news-gathering at +once ceased to be quoted at par. Everywhere, in all of the warring +lands the Biblical rule that "he that is not with me is against me," +became the controlling view. Government telegrams were obviously +very important and there was no time to consider anywhere any of +the promised speed in sending our dispatches. Finally, censorships +were imposed. This was quite proper in principle. Censorships are +always necessary in time of war. But it is desirable, from every +point of view, that they be intelligent, and that is not always +the case. + +Nevertheless, we have fared pretty well in the business of reporting +this war. We have made distinct progress in teaching the belligerents +that we hold no brief for any one of them, and, while each would +much rather have us plead his cause, they are coming to see why we +cannot and ought not do so. And our men are everywhere respected +and accorded as large privileges as, perhaps, in the light of the +tension of the hour, could be reasonably asked. + +[signed] Melville E. Stone + + + + + +Pan and the Pot-Hunter + + + + +They are not many who are privileged to learn that the forces of the +Wilderness are as gods, distributing benefits, and, from such as +have earned them, taking even handed reprisals. Only the Greeks of +all peoples realized this in its entirety, and them the gods repaid +with the pure joy of creation which is the special prerogative of +gods. + +But Greenhow had heard nothing of the Greeks save as a symbol of +all unintelligibility, and of the gods not at all. His stock was +out of England by way of the Tennessee mountains, drifting Pacific +coastward after the war of the Rebellion, and he was a Pot Hunter +by occasion and inclination. The occasion he owned to being born +in one of the bays of the southerly Sierras where the plentitude +of wild life reduced pot hunting to the degree of easy murder. + +A Pot Hunter, you understand, is a business man. He is out for +what he can get, and regards game laws as an interference with the +healthful interactions of competition. Greenhow potted quail in +the Temblors where by simply rolling out of his blanket he could +bag two score at a shot as they flocked, sleek and stately blue, +down the runways to the drinking places. He took pronghorn at +Castac with a repeating rifle and a lure of his red necktie held +aloft on a cleaning rod, and packed them four to a mule-back down +the Tejon to Summerfield. He shot farrow does and fished out of +season, and had never heard of the sportsmanly obligation to throw +back the fingerlings. Anything that made gunning worth while to +the man who came after you was, by Greenhow's reckoning, a menace +to pot hunting. + +There were Indians in those parts who could have told him +better--notable hunters who never shot swimming deer nor does with +fawn nor any game unaware; who prayed permission of the Wuld before +they went to hunt, and left offal for their little brothers of the +Wilderness. Indians know. But Greenhow, being a business man, +opined that Indians were improvident, and not being even good at +his business, fouled the waters where he camped, left man traces +in his trails and neglected to put out his fires properly. + +Whole hillsides where the deer had browsed were burnt off bare as +your hand in the wake of the pot hunter. Thus in due course, though +Greenhow laid it to the increasing severity of game laws framed in +the interests of city sportsmen, who preferred working hard for +their venison to buying it comfortably in the open market, pot +hunting grew so little profitable that he determined to leave it +off altogether an become a Settler. Not however until he had earned +the reprisal of the gods, of whom in a dozen years he had not even +become aware. + +In the Spring of the year the Tonkawanda irrigation district was +opened, he settled himself on a spur of San Jacinto where it plunges +like a great dolphin in the green swell of the camissal, and throws +up a lacy foam of chaparral along its sides. Below him, dotted +over the flat reach of the mesa, the four square clearings of the +Homesteaders showed along the line of the great canal, keen and +blue as the cutting edge of civilization. There was a deep-soil +level under the nose of San Jacinto--rabbits used to play there +until Greenhow took to potting them for his breakfast--and a stream +bubbled from under the hill to waste in the meadow. + +Greenhow built a shack under a live oak there and fancied himself +in the character of a proprietor. He reckoned that in the three +years before his vineyard came into bearing, he could pot-hunt in +the hills behind his clearing for the benefit of the Homesteaders. + +It was altogether a lovely habitation. Camise grew flush with the +meadow and the flanks of San Jacinto shivered and sparkled with +the wind that turned the thousand leaves of the chaparral. Under +the wind one caught at times the slow deep chuckle of the water. +Greenhow should have been warned by that. In just such tones the +ancient Greeks had heard the great god Pan laughing in the woods +under Parnassus,--which was Greek indeed to the Pot Hunter. + +Greenhow was thirty-four when he took out his preemption papers +and planted his first acre of vines. For reasons best known to +the gods, the deer kept well away from that side of the San Jacinto +that year. Greenhow enlarged the meadow and turned up ground for +a garden; he became acquainted with his neighbors and learned that +they had prejudices in favor of game regulations, also that one of +them had a daughter. She had white, even teeth that flashed when +she laughed; the whole effect of her was as sound and as appetizing +as a piece of ripe fruit. Greenhow told her that the prospect of +having a home of his own was an incentive such as pot-hunting held +out to no man. He looked as he said it, a very brother to Nimrod, +for as yet the Pot had not marked him. + +He stood straight; his eyes had the deep, varying blueness of lake +water. Little wisps and burrs, odors of the forest clung about +his clothing; a beard covered his slack, formless mouth. When he +told the Homesteader's daughter how the stars went by on heather +planted headlands and how the bucks belled the does at the bottom +of deep canons in October, she heard in it the call of the trail +and young Adventure. Times when she would see from the level of +her father's quarter section the smoke of the Pot Hunter's cabin +rising blue against the glistening green of the live oak, she thought +that life might have a wilder, sweeter tang there about the roots +of the mountain. + +In his second Spring when the camissal foamed all white with bloom +and the welter of yellow violets ran in the grass under it like +fire, Greenhow built a lean-to to his house and made the discovery +that the oak which jutted out from the barranca behind it was of +just the right height from the ground to make a swing for a child, +which caused him a strange pleasant embarrassment. + +"Look kind o' nice to see a little feller playin' round," he +admitted to himself, and the same evening went down to call on the +Homesteader's daughter. + +That night the watchful guardians of the Wild sent the mule-deer +to Harry the man who had been a pot-hunter. A buck of three years +came down the draw by the watercourse and nibbled the young shoots +of the vines where he could reach them across the rabbit proof +fencing that the settler had drawn about his planted acres. Not +that the wire netting would have stopped him; this was merely the +opening of the game. Three days later he spent the night in the +kitchen garden and cropped the tips of the newly planted orchard. +After that the two of them put in nearly the whole of the growing +season dodging one another through the close twigged manzanita, +lilac, laurel and mahogany that broke upward along the shining +bouldered coasts of San Jacinto. the chaparral at this season took +all the changes of the incoming surf, blue in the shadows, darkling +green about the heads of the gulches, or riffling with the white +under side of wind-lifted leaves. Once its murmurous swell had +closed over them, the mule-deer would have his own way with the +Pot Hunter. Often after laborious hours spent in repairing the +garden, the man would hear his enemy coughing in the gully behind +the house, and take up his rifle to put in the rest of the day +snaking through the breathless fifteen foot cover, only to have +a glimpse of the buck at last dashing back the late light from +glittering antlers as he bounded up inaccessible rocky stairs. This +was the more exasperating since Greenhow had promised the antlers +to the Homesteader's daughter. + +When the surface of the camissal had taken on the brown tones +of weed under sea water and the young clusters of the grapes were +set--for this was the year the vineyard was expected to come into +bearing--the mule-deer disappeared altogether from that district, +and Greenhow went back hopefully to rooting the joint grass out +of the garden. But about the time he should have been rubbing the +velvet off his horns among the junipers of the high ridges, the +mule-deer came back with two of his companions and fattened on +the fruit of the vineyard. They went up and down the rows ruining +with selective bites the finest clusters. During the day they +lay up like cattle under the quaking aspens beyond the highest, +wind-whitened spay of the chaparral, and came down to feast day by +day as the sun ripened the swelling amber globules. They slipped +between the barbs of the fine wired fence without so much as changing +a leg or altering their long, loping stride; and what they left +the quail took. + +In pattering droves of hundreds they trekked in from the camise +before there was light enough to shoot by, and nipped once and +with precision at the ripest in every bunch. Afterward they dusted +themselves in the chaparral and twitted the proprietor with soft +contented noises. At the end of the October rut the deer came +back plentifully to the Tonkawanda District, and Greenhow gave up +the greater part of the rainy season to auditing his account with +them. He spent whole days scanning the winter colored slope for +the flicker and slide of light on a hairy flank that betrayed his +enemy, or, rifle in hand, stalking a patch of choke cherry and +manzanita within which the mule-deer could snake and crawl for +hours by intricacies of doubling and back tracking that yielded +not a square inch of target and no more than the dust of his final +disappearance. Wood gatherers heard at times above their heads +the discontented whine of deflected bullets. Windy mornings the +quarry would signal from the high barrens by slow stiff legged +bounds that seemed to invite the Pot Hunter's fire, and at the end +of a day's tracking among the punishing stubs of the burnt district, +Greenhow returning would hear the whistling cough of the mule-deer +in the ravine not a rifle shot from the house. + +In the meantime rabbits burrowed under the wire netting to bark +his young trees, and an orchardist who held the job of ditch tender +along the Tonkawanda, began to take an interest in the Homesteader's +daughter. Seldom any smoke went up now from the cabin under the +Dolphin's nose. Occasionally there rose a blue thread of it far up +on the thinly forested crest of San Jacinto where the buck, bedded +in the low brush between the bosses of the hills, kept a look out +across the gullies from which Greenhow attempted to ambuscade him. +Day by day the man would vary the method of approach until almost +within rifle range, and then the wind would change or there would +be the click of gravel underfoot, or the scrape of a twig on stiff +overalls, and suddenly the long oval ears would slope forward, the +angular lines flow into grace and motion and the game would begin +again. + +Greenhow killed many deer that season and got himself under suspicion +of the game warden, but never THE deer; and a very subtle change +came over him, such a change as marks the point at which a man +leaves off being hunter to become the hunted. He began to sense, +with vague reactions of resentment, the personality of Power. + +It was about the end of the rains that the DITCH TENDER who was +also an orchardist, took the Homesteader's daughter to ride on his +unoccupied Sunday afternoon. He had something to say to her which +demanded the wide, uninterrupted space of day. They went up toward +the roots of the mountain between the green dikes of the chaparral, +and he was so occupied with watching the pomegranate color of her +cheeks and the nape of her neck where the sun touched it, that +he failed to observe that it was she who turned the horses into +the trail that led off the main road toward the shack of the Pot +Hunter. The same change that had come over the man had fallen on +his habitation. through the uncurtained window they saw heaps of +unwashed dishes and the rusty stove, and along the eaves of the +lean-to, a row of antlers bleaching. + +"There's really no hope for a man," said the ditch tender, "once +he gets THAT habit. It's worse than drink." + +"Perhaps," said the Homesteader's daughter, "if he had any one at +home who cared..." She was looking down at the bindweed that had +crept about the roots of a banksia rose she had once given the Pot +Hunter out of her own garden, and she sighed, but the ditch tender +did not notice that either. He was thinking this was so good an +opportunity for what he had to say that he drew the horses toward +the end of the meadow where the stream came in, and explained to +her particularly just what it meant to a man to have somebody at +home who cared. + +The Homesteader's daughter leaned against the oak as she listened, +and lifted up her clear eyes with a light in them that was like a +flash out of the deep, luminous eye of day, which caused the ditch +tender the greatest possible satisfaction. He did not think it +strange, immediately he had her answer, to hear the titter of the +leaves of the lilac and the sudden throaty chuckle of the water. + +"I am so happy," laughed the ditch tender, "that I fancy the whole +world is laughing with me." + + +All this was not so long as you would imagine to look at the Pot +Hunter. As time went on the marking of the pot came out on him +very plainly. He acquired the shifty, sidelong gait of the meaner +sort of predatory creatures. His clothes, his beard, his very +features have much the appearance that his house has, as if the +owner of it were distant on another occupation, and the camise has +regained a considerable portion of his clearing. Owing to the +vigilance of the game warden his is not a profitable business; +also he is in disfavor with the homesteaders along the Tonkawanda +who credit him with the disappearance of the mule-deer, once +plentiful in that district. A solitary specimen is occasionally +met by sportsmen along the back of San Jacinto, exceedingly gun +wary. But if Greenhow had known a little more about the Greeks it +might all have turned out quite differently. + +[signed] Mary Austin + + + + + +Men of the Sea + + + + +The afternoon sun etched our shadows on the whitewashed wall behind +us. Acres of grain and gorse turned the moorland golden under a +windy blue sky. In front of us the Bay of Biscay burned sapphire +to the horizon. + +"You men of the sea," I said, "attain a greater growth of soul than +do we whose roots are in the land. You are men of wider spiritual +vision, of deeper capacity than are we." + +The coastguard's weather-beaten visage altered subtly. + +"How can that be, Monsieur? Our sins stalk us like vast red shadows. +We live violently, we men of the sea." + +"But you really LIVE--spiritually and physically. You attain a +spiritual growth, a vision, an understanding, a depth seldom reached +by us:--a wide kindness, a charity, a noble humanity outside the +circumference of our experience." + +He said, looking seaward out of vague, sea-gray eyes: "We drink +too deeply. We love too often. We men of the sea have great need +of intercession and of prayer." + +"Not YOU." + +"There was a girl at Rosporden.... And one at Bannalec.... And +others...from the ends of the earth to the ends of it...We Icelanders +drank deep. And afterwards...in the China seas...." + +His gray Breton eyes brooded on the flowing sapphire of the sea; +the low sun painted his furrowed face red. + +"Not one among you but lays down his life for others as quietly +and simply as he fills his pipe. From the rocking mizzen you look +down calmly upon the world of men tossing with petty and complex +passions--look down with the calm, kindly comprehension of a mature +soul which has learned something of Immortal toleration. The +scheme of things is clearer to you than to us; your pity, wiser; +our faith more logical." + +"We are children," he muttered, "we men of the sea." + +I have tried to say so--in too many words," said I. + +My dog looked up at me, then with a slight sigh settled himself +again beside the game bag and tucked his nose under his flank. On +the whitewashed walls of the ancient, ruined fort behind us our +shadows towered in the red sunset. + +I turned and looked at the roofless, crumbling walls, then at the +coast where jeweled surf tumbled, stained with crimson. + +These shores had been washed with a redder stain in years gone +by: these people were forever stamped with the eradicable scar +of suffering borne by generations dead. The centuries had never +spared them. + +And, as I brooded there, watching two peasants, father and son, +grubbing out the gorse below us to make a place for future wheat, +the rose surf beyond seemed full of little rosy children and showy +women, species of the endless massacres that this sad land had +endlessly endured. + +"They struck you hard and deep," I said, thinking of the past. + +"Deep, Monsieur," he replied, understanding me. "Deep as your +people's hatred." + +"Oh, poor ça"--he made a vague gesture. "The dead are dead," he +said, leaning over and opening my game bag to look into it and sort +and count the few braces of partridge, snipe and widgeon. + +Presently, from below, the peasants at work in the gorse, shouted +up to us something that I did not understand. + +They were standing close together, leaning on mattock and spade, +grouped around something in the gorse. + +"What do they say?" I asked. + +"They have found a soldier's body." + +"A body?" + +"Long dead, Monsieur. The skeleton of one of these who scourged +this coast in the old days." + +He rose and started leisurely down through the flowering gorse. I +followed, and my dog followed me. + +In the shallow excavation there lay a few bones and shreds and bits +of tarnished metal. + +I stooped and picked up a button and a belt buckle. The royal arms +and the Regimental number were decipherable on the brasses. One +of the peasants said: + +"In Quimper lives a rich man who pays for relics. God, in his +compassion, sends us poor men these bones." + +The coastguard said: "God sends them to you for decent internment. +Not to sell." + +"But," retorted the peasant, "these bones and bits of brass belonged +to one of those who came here with fire and sword. Need we respect +our enemies who slew without pity young and old? And these bones +are very ancient." + +"The living must respect the dead, Jean Le Locard." + +"I am poor," muttered Le Locard. "We Bretons are born to misery +and sorrow. Life is very hard. Is it any harm if I sell these +bones and brasses to a rich man, and buy a little bread for my wife +and little ones?" + +The coastguard shook his head gravely: "We Bretons may go hungry +and naked, but we cannot traffic in death. Here lies a soldier, +a hundred years hidden under the gorse. Nevertheless--" + +He touched his cap in salute. Slowly the peasants lifted their +caps and stood staring down at the bones, uncovered. + +"Make a grave," said the coastguard simply. He pointed up at the +old graveyard on the cliff above us. Then, touching my elbow, he +turned away with me toward the little hamlet across the moors. + +"Let us find the Curé," he murmured. "We men of the sea should +salute the death God sends with the respect we owe to all His gifts +to man." + +Our three gigantic shadows led us back across the moor,--my dog, +myself, and the gray-eyed silent man who knew the sea,--and something +perhaps, of the sea's Creator:--and much of his fellow men. + +[signed] Robert W. Chambers + + + + + +Jim--A Soldier of the King + + + + +We were machine gunners of the British Army stationed "Somewhere +in France" and had just arrived at our rest billets, after a weary +march from the front line sector. + +The stable we had to sleep in was an old, ramshackle affair, +absolutely over-run with rats. Great, big, black fellows, who used +to chew up our leather equipment, eat our rations, and run over +out bodies at night. German gas had no effect on these rodents; +in fact, they seemed to thrive on it. + +The floor space would comfortably accommodate about twenty men lying +down, but when thirty-three, including equipment, were crowded into +it, it was nearly unbearable. + +The roof and walls were full of shell holes. When it rained, a +constant drip, drip, drip was in order. We were so crowded that if +a fellow was unlucky enough (and nearly all of us in this instance +were unlucky) to sleep under a hole, he had to grin and bear it. +It was like sleeping beneath a shower bath. + +At one end of the billet, with a ladder leading up to it, was a sort +of grain bin, with a door in it. This place was the headquarters +of our guests, the rats. Many a stormy cabinet meeting was held +there by them. Many a boot was thrown at it during the night +to let them know that Tommy Atkins objected to the matter under +discussion. Sometimes one of these missiles would ricochet, and +land on the upturned countenance of a snoring Tommy, and for about +half an hour even the rats would pause in admiration of his flow +of language. + +On the night in question we flopped down in our wet clothes, and +were soon asleep. As was usual, No. 2 gun's crew were together. + +The last time we had rested in this particular village, it was +inhabited by civilians, but now it was deserted. An order had +been issued, two days previous to our arrival, that all civilians +should move farther back of the line. + +I had been asleep about two hours when I was awakened by Sailor +Bill shaking me by the shoulder. He was trembling like a leaf, +and whispered to me: + +"Wake up, Yank, this ship's haunted. There's some one aloft who's +been moaning for the last hour. Sounds like the wind in the rigging. +I ain't scared of humans or Germans, but when it comes to messin' +in with spirits it's time for me to go below. Lend your ear and +cast your deadlights on that grain locker, and listen." + +I listened sleepily for a minute or so, but could hear nothing. +Coming to the conclusion that Sailor Bill was dreaming things, I +was again soon asleep. + +Perhaps fifteen minutes had elapsed when I was rudely awakened. + +"Yank, for God's sake, come aboard and listen!" I listened and +sure enough, right out of that grain bin overhead came a moaning +and whimpering, and then a scratching against the door. My hair +stood on end. Blended with the drip, drip of the rain, and the +occasional scurrying of a rat overhead, that noise had a super-natural +sound. I was really frightened; perhaps my nerves were a trifle +unstrung from our recent tour in the trenches. + +I awakened "Ikey" Honney, while Sailor Bill roused "Happy" Houghton +and "Hungry" Foxcroft. + +Hungry's first words were, "What's the matter, breakfast ready?" + +In as few words as possible, we told them what had happened. By +the light of the candle I had lighted, their faces appeared as +white as chalk. Just then the whimpering started again, and we +were frozen with terror. The tension was relieved by Ikey's voice: + +"I admint I'm afraid of ghosts, but that sounds like a dog to me. +Who's going up the ladder to investigate?" + +No one volunteered. + +I had an old deck of cards in my pocket. Taking them out, I +suggested cutting, the low man to go up the ladder. They agreed. +I was the last to cut. I got the ace of clubs. Sailor Bill was +stuck with the five of diamonds. Upon this, he insisted that it +should be the best two out of three cuts, but we overruled him, +and he was unanimously elected for the job. + +With a "So long, mates, I'm going aloft," he started toward the +ladder, with the candle in his hand, stumbling over the sleeping +forms of many. Sundry grunts, moans, and curses followed in his +wake. + +As soon as he started to ascend the ladder, a "tap-tap-tap" could +be heard from the grain bin. We waited in fear and trembling the +result of his mission. Hungry was encouraging him with "Cheero, +mate, the worst is yet to come." + +After many pauses, Bill reached the top of the ladder and opened +the door. We listened with bated breath. Then he shouted: + +"Blast my deadlights, if it ain't a poor dog! Come alongside mate, +you're on a lee shore, and in a sorry plight." + +Oh, what a relief those words were to us. + +With the candle in one hand and a dark object under his arm, Bill +returned and deposited in our midst the sorriest-looking specimen +of a cur dog you ever set eyes on. It was so weak it couldn't +stand. But that look in its eyes--just gratitude, plain gratitude. +Its stump of a tail was pounding against my mess tin and sounded +just like a message in the Morse code. Happy swore that it was +sending S O S. + +We were a lot of school children, every one wanting to help and +making suggestions at the same time. Hungry suggested giving it +something to eat, while Ikey wanted to play on his infernal jew's +harp, claiming it was a musical dog. Hungry's suggestion met our +approval, and there was a general scramble for haversacks. All we +could muster was some hard bread and a big piece of cheese. + +His nibs wouldn't eat bread, and also refused the cheese, but not +before sniffling it for a couple of minutes. I was going to throw +the cheese away, but Hungry said he would take it. I gave it to +him. + +We were in a quandary. It was evident that the dog was starving +and in a very weak condition. Its coat was lacerated all over, +probably from the bites of rats. That stump of a tail kept sending +S O S against my mess tin. Every tap went straight to our hearts. +We would get something to eat for that mutt if we were shot for +it. + +Sailor Bill volunteered to burglarize the quartermaster's stores +for a can of unsweetened condensed milk, and left on his perilous +venture. He was gone about twenty minutes. During his absence, +with the help of a bandage and a capsule of iodine, we cleaned the +wounds made by the rats. I have bandaged many a wounded Tommy, +but never received the amount of thanks that that dog gave with +its eyes. + +Then the billet door opened and Sailor Bill appeared. He looked +like the wreck of the HESPERUS, uniform torn, covered with dirt +and flour, and a beautiful black eye, but he was smiling, and in +his hand he carried the precious can of milk. + +We asked no questions, but opened the can. Just as we were going +to pour it out, Happy butted in and said it should be mixed with +water; he ought to know, because his sister back in Blighty had +a baby, and she always mixed water with its milk. We could not +dispute this evidence, so water was demanded. We could not use +the water in our water bottles, as it was not fresh enough for our +new mate. Happy volunteered to get some from the well--that is, if +we would promise not to feed his royal highness until he returned. +We promised, because Happy had proved that he was an authority on +the feeding of babies. By this time the rest of the section were +awake and were crowding around us, asking numerous questions, and +admiring our newly found friend. Sailor Bill took this opportunity +to tell of his adventures while in quest of the milk. + +"I had a fair wind, and the passage was good until I came alongside +the quartermaster's shack, then the sea got rough. The porthole +was battened down, and I had to cast it loose. When I got aboard, +I could hear the wind blowing through the rigging of the supercargo +(quartermaster sergeant snoring), so I was safe. I set my course +due north to the ration hold, and got my grappling irons on a cask +of milk, and came about on my homeward-bound passage, but something +was amiss with my wheel, because I ran nose on into him, caught him +on the rail, amidships. Then it was repel boarders, and it started +to blow big guns. His first shot put out my starboard light, and +I keeled over. I was in the trough of the sea, but soon righted, +and then it was a stern chase, with me in the lead. Getting into +the open sea, I made a port tack and have to in this cove with the +milk safely in tow." + +Most of us didn't know what he was talking about, but surmised +that he had gotten into a mix-up with the quartermaster sergeant. +This surmise proved correct. + +Just as Bill finished his narration, a loud splash was heard, and +Happy's voice came to us. It sounded very far off: + +"Help, I'm in the well! Hurry up, I can't swim!" Then a few +unintelligible words intermixed with blub! blub! and no more. + +We ran to the well, and way down we could hear an awful splashing. +Sailor Bill yelled down, "Look out below; stand from under; bucket +coming!" With that he loosed the windlass. In a few seconds a +spluttering voice from the depths yelled up to us, "Haul away!" + +It was hard work, hauling him up. We had raised him about ten +feet from the water, when the handle of the windlass got loose from +our grip, and down went the bucket and Happy. A loud splash came +to us, and grabbing the handle again, we worked like Trojans. A +volley of curses came from that well which would have shocked Old +Nick himself. + +When we got Happy safely out, he was a sight worth seeing. He +did not even notice us. Never said a word, just filled his water +bottle from the water in the bucket, and went back to the billet. We +followed. My mess tin was still sending S O S. + +Happy, though dripping wet, silently fixed up the milk for the +dog. In appetite, the canine was close second to Hungry Foxcroft. +After lapping up all he could hold, our mascot closed his eyes and +his tail ceased wagging. Sailor Bill took a dry flannel shirt from +his pack, wrapped the dog in it, and informed us: + +"Me and my mate are going below, so the rest of you lubbers batten +down and turn in." + +We all wanted the honor of sleeping with the dog, but did not dispute +Sailor Bill's right to the privilege. By this time the bunch were +pretty sleepy and tired, and turned in without much coaxing, as it +was pretty near daybreak. + +Next day we figured out that perhaps one of the French kiddies had +put the dog in the grain bin, and, in the excitement of packing up +and leaving, had forgotten he was there. + +Sailor Bill was given the right to christen our new mate. He +called him "Jim." In a couple of days Jim came around all right, +and got very frisky. Every man in the section loved that dog. + +Sailor Bill was court-martialed for his mix-up with the quartermaster +sergeant, and got seven days field punishment No. 1. This meant +that two hours each day for a week he would be tied to the wheel +of a limber. During those two-hour periods Jim would be at Bill's +feet, and no matter how much we coaxed him with choice morsels +of food, he would not leave until Bill was untied. When Bill was +loosed, Jim would have nothing to do with him--just walked away +in contempt. Jim respected the king's regulations, and had no use +for defaulters. + +At a special meeting held by the section, Jim had the oath +of allegiance read to him. He barked his consent, so we solemnly +swore him in as a soldier of the Imperial British Army, fighting +for king and country. Jim made a better soldier than any one of +us, and died for his king and country. Died without a whimper of +complaint. + +From the village we made several trips to the trenches; each time +Jim accompanied us. The first time under fire he put the stump of +his tail between his legs, but stuck to his post. When "carrying +in" if we neglected to give Jim something to carry, he would make +such a noise barking that we soon fixed him up. + +Each day Jim would pick out a different man of the section to follow. +He would stick to the man, eating and sleeping with him until the +next day, and then it would be some one's else turn. When a man +had Jim with him, it seemed as if his life were charmed. No matter +what he went through, he would come out safely. We looked upon +Jim as a good-luck sign, and believe me, he was. + +Whenever it came Ikey Honney's turn for Jim's company, he was +over-joyed, because Jim would sit in dignified silence, listening +to the jew's-harp. Honney claimed that Jim had a soul for music, +which was more than he would say about the rest of us. + +Once, at daybreak, we had to go over the top in an attack. A man +in the section named Dalton was selected by Jim as his mate in this +affair. + +The crew of gun No. 2 were to stay in the trench for over-head fire +purposes, and, if necessary, to help repel a probably counter-attack +by the enemy. Dalton was very merry, and hadn't the least fear or +misgiving as to his safety, because Jim would be with him through +it all. + +In the attack, Dalton, closely followed by Jim, had gotten about +sixty yards into No Man's Land, when Jim was hit in the stomach by +a bullet. Poor old Jim toppled over, and lay still. Dalton turned +around, and, just as he did so, we saw him throw up his hands and +fall face forward. + +Ikey Honney, who was No. 3 on our gun, seeing Jim fall, scrambled +over the parapet, and through that rain of shells and bullets, +raced to where Jim was, picked him up, and, tucking him under his +arm, returned to our trench in safety. If he had gone to rescue +a wounded man in this way he would have no doubt been awarded the +Victoria Cross. but he only brought in poor bleeding, dying Jim. + +Ikey laid him on the fire step alongside of our gun, but we could +not attend to him, because we had important work to do. So he +died like a soldier, without a look of reproach for our heartless +treatment. Just watched our every movement until his lights burned +out. After the attack, what was left of our section gathered around +Jim's bloodstained body. There wasn't a dry eye in the crowd. + +Next day, we wrapped him in a small Union Jack belonging to Happy, +and laid him to rest, a soldier of the king. + +We put a little wooden cross over his grave which read: + +PRIVATE JIM +MACHINE-GUN COMPANY +KILLED IN ACTION +APRIL 10, 1916 +A DOG WITH A MAN'S HEART + +Although the section has lost lots of men, Jim is never forgotten. + +[signed] Arthur Guy Empey + + + + + +Heel and Toe + + + + +That man--it could only have been a man--who invented the Klinger +darning and mending machine struck a blow at marriage. Martha +Eggers, bending over her work in the window of the Elite Hand +Laundry (washing delivered same day if left before 8 A.M.) never +quite evolved this thought in her mind. When one's job is that +of darning six bushels of socks a day, not to speak of drifts of +pajamas and shirts, there remains very little time for philosophizing. + +The window of the Elite Hand Laundry was a boast. On a line strung +from side to side hung snowy, creaseless examples of the ironer's +art. Pale blue tissue paper, stuffed into the sleeves and front +of lace and embroidery blouses cunningly enhanced their immaculate +virginity. White piqué skirts, destined to be grimed by the sands +of beach and tee, dangled like innocent lambs before the slaughter. +Just behind this starched and glistening ambush one glimpsed the +bent head and the nimble fingers of Martha Eggers, first aid to +the unwed. + +As she sat weaving, in and out, in and out, she was a twentieth +century version of any one of the Fates, with the Klinger darner +and mender substituted for distaff and spindle. There was something +almost humanly intelligent in the workings of Martha's machine. +Under its glittering needle she would shove a sock whose heel bore +a great, jagged, gaping wound. Your home darner, equipped only with +mending egg, needle, and cotton, would have pronounced it fatal. +But Martha's modern methods of sock surgery always saved its life. +In and out, back and forth, moved the fabric under the needle. +And slowly, the wound began to heal. Tack, tack, back and forth. +The operation was completed. + +"If I see you many more Mondays," Martha would say, grimly, tossing +it into the heap at her side, "there won't be anything left of +the original cloth. I should think people would realize that this +laundry darns socks, but it doesn't manufacture 'em." + +Before the advent of the ingenious mending machine I suppose more +men than would care to admit it married largely because they grew +so tired of seeing those eternal holes grinning back at them from +heel and toe, and of feeling for absent buttons in a hastily donned +shirt. The Elite laundry owed much of its success to the fact that +it advertised alleviation for these discomforts. + +If you had known Martha as I know her you would have found a certain +pathos in the thought of this spare spinster performing for legions +of unknown unseen men those homely, intimate tasks that have long +been the duty of wife or mother. For Martha had no men-folks. +Martha was one of those fatherless, brotherless, husbandless women +who, because of their state, can retain their illusions about men. +She had never known the tragedy of setting forth a dinner only to +have hurled at her that hateful speech beginning with, "I had that +for lunch." She had never seen a male, collarless, bellowing about +the house for his laundry. She had never beheld that soul-searing +sight--a man in his trousers and shirt, his suspenders dangling, +his face lathered, engaged in the unbecoming rite of shaving. + +Her knowledge of the home habits of the male biped she gleaned from +the telltale hints of the inanimate garments that passed through +her nimble hands. She could even tell character and personality +from deductions gathered at heel and toe. She knew, for example, +that F.C. (in black ink) was an indefatigable fox trotter and she +dubbed him Ferdy Cahn, though his name, for all she knew, might +have been Frank Callahan. The dancing craze, incidentally, had +added mountainous stacks to Martha's already heaped up bins. + +The Elite Laundry served every age and sex. But Martha's department +was, perforce, the unwed male section. No self-respecting wife +or mother would allow laundry-darned hose or shirts to reflect on +her housekeeping habits. And what woman, ultra-modern though she +be, would permit machine-mended stockings to desecrate her bureau +drawers? So it was that Martha ministered, for the most part, to +those boarding house bachelors living within delivery-wagon proximity +to the Elite Laundry. + +It was early in May that Martha first began to notice the white +lisle socks marked E.G. She picked them from among the great heap +at her work table because of the exquisite fineness of the darning +that adorned them. It wasn't merely darning. It was embroidery. +It was weaving. It was cobweb tapestry. It blended in with the +original fabric so intimately that it required an expert eye to +mark where darning finished and cloth began. Martha regarded it +with appreciation unmarred by envy, as the artisan eye regards the +work of the artist. + +"That's his mother's darning," she thought, as she smoothed it with +one work-scarred finger. "And she doesn't live here in Chicago. No, +sir! It takes a small town mother to have the time and patience for +that kind of work. She's the kind whose kitchen smells of ginger +cookies on Saturday mornings. And I'll bet if she ever found a +moth in the attic she'd call the fire department. He's her only +son. And he's come to the city to work. And his name--his name +is Eddie." + +And Eddie he remained for the months that followed. + +Now, there was nothing uncanny in Martha Eggers' deduction +that a young man who wears white hose, miraculously darned, is a +self-respecting young man, brought up by a worshiping mother who +knows about ginger cookies and winter underwear, and whose Monday +washing is fragrant with the clean-smelling scent of green grass +and sunshine. But it was remarkable that she could pick this one +needle from the haystack of socks and shirts that towered above +her. She ran her hand through hundreds of garments in the day's +work. Some required her attention. Some were guiltless of rent +or hole. She never thought of mating them. That was the sorter's +work. But with Eddie's socks it was different. They had not, as +yet, required the work of her machine needle. She told her self, +whimsically, that when the time came to set her crude work next +to the masterly effects produced by the needle of Eddie's ma every +fiber in her would shrink from the task. Of course Martha did not +put it in just that way. But the thought was there. And bit by +bit, week by week, month by month, the life, and aims, and ambitions, +and good luck and misfortunes of this country boy who had come +to the call of the city, were unfolded before the keen eye of the +sparse spinster who sat stitching away in the window of the Elite +Laundry. + +For a long, long time the white hose lacked reinforcements, so +that they began to grow thin from top to toe. Martha feared that +they would go to pieces in one irremediable catastrophe, like the +one-hoss shay. Evidently Eddie's job did not warrant unnecessary +expenditures. Then the holes began to appear. Martha tucked +them grimly under the glittering needle of the Klinger darner and +mender but at the first incision she snapped the thread, drew out +the sock, and snipped the stitches. + +"His ma'd have a fit. I'll just roll 'em up, and take 'em home +with me to-night and darn 'em by hand." She laughed at herself, +a little shame-faced laugh, but tender, too. + +She did darn them that night, in the twilight, and in the face +of the wondering contempt of Myrt. Myrt dwelt across the hall in +five-roomed affluence with her father and mother. She was one of +the ten stenographers employed by the Slezak Film Company. There +existed between the two women an attraction due to the law of +opposites. Myrt was nineteen. She earned twelve dollars a week. +She knew all the secrets of the moving picture business, but even +that hideous knowledge had left her face unscarred. Myrt's twelve +was expended wholly upon the embellishment of Myrt. Myrt was one +of those asbestos young women upon whom the fires of life leave no +mark. She regarded Martha Eggers, who dwelt in one room, in the +rear, across the hall, with that friendly contempt which nineteen, +cruelly conscious of its charms, bestows upon plain forty. + +She strolled into Martha Eggers' room now to find that lady +intent upon a white sock, darning needle in hand. She was working +in the fast-fading light that came through her one window. Myrt, +kimono-clad, stared at her in unbelief. + +"Well, I've heard that when actors get a day off they go to the +theater. I suppose it's the same idea. I should think you'd get +enough darning and mending from eight A. M. to six P. M. without +dragging it home with you." + +"I'm doing it for a friend," said Martha, her head bent over her +work. + +"What's his name?" + +"Eddie." + +"Eddie what?" + +Martha blushed, pricked her finger, bent lower. "Eddie--Eddie +Grant." + +At the end of the next six weeks every pair of Eddie Grant's hose, +heel and toe, bore the marks of Martha's workmanship. Then, quite +suddenly, they ceased to appear. Had he gone back home, defeated? +Had he moved to another neighborhood? Had he invested in a fresh +supply of haberdashery? On Tuesday of the seventh week E. G.'s +white hose appeared once more. Martha picked them from among the +heap. Instantly she knew. Clumsily, painstakingly, they had been +darned by a hand all unaccustomed to such work. A masculine hand, +as plucky as it was awkward. + +"Why, the poor kid! The poor little kid! Lost his job for six +weeks, and did his own washing and mending." + +That night she picked out the painfully woven stitches and replaced +them with her own exquisite workmanship. + +Eddie's new job was evidently a distinct advance. The old socks +disappeared altogether. They had been darned until each one resembled +a mosaic. In their place appeared an entirely new set, with nothing +but the E. G. inked upon them by the laundry to distinguish them +from hundreds of others. Sometimes Martha missed them entirely. +then, suddenly, E. G. blossomed into silk, with clocking up the side, +and Martha knew that he was in love. She found herself wondering +what kind of girl she was, and whether the woman in the little +town that was Back Home to Eddie would have approved of her. One +day there appeared a pair of lovesick lavenders, but they never +again bloomed. Evidently she was the kind of a girl who would be +firm about those. Then, for a time--for two long weeks--E. G.'s +hose were black; somber, mournful, unrelieved black. They had +quarreled. After that they brightened. They became numerous, +and varied. There was about them something triumphant, ecstatic. +They rose to a paean. + +"They're engaged," Martha told herself. "I hope she's the right +kind of a girl for Eddie." + +Then, as they sobered down and even began to require some of Martha's +expert workmanship she knew that it was all right. "She's making +him save up." + +Six months later the Elite Laundry knew E. G. no more. + +Myrt, strolling into Martha's room one evening, as was her wont, +found that severe-faced lady suspiciously red-eyed. Even Myrt, +the unimaginative, sensed that some unhappiness had Martha in its +grip. + +"What's the matter?" + +"Oh, I don't know. Kinda lonesome, I guess. What's the news down +at your place?" + +"News! Nothing ever happens in our office. Honestly, some days +I think I'll just drop dead, it's so slow. I took three hours +dictation from Hubbell this morning. He's writing the 'Dangers of +Dora' series, and I almost go to sleep over it. He's got her now +where she's chained in the cave with the tide coming up, on a deserted +coast, and nobody for miles around. I was tickled to death when +old Slezak called me away to fill out the contract blanks for him +and Willie Kaplan. Kaplan's signed up with the Slezak's for three +years at a million and a half a year. He stood over me while I +was filling it out--him and his brother Gus--as if I was going to +put something over on 'em when they weren't looking." + +"My land! How exciting! It must be wonderful working in a place +like that." + +Myrt yawned, and stretched her round young arms high above her +head. + +"I don't see anything exciting about it. Of course it isn't as bad +as your job, sitting there all day, sewing and mending. It isn't +even as if you were sewing on new stuff, like a dressmaker, and +really making something out of it. I should think you'd go crazy, +it's so uninteresting." + +Martha turned to the window, so that her face was hidden from Myrt. +"Oh, I don't know. Darning socks isn't so bad. Depends on what +you see in 'em." + +"See in 'em!" echoed Miss Myrtle Halperin. "See! Well for the +love of heaven what can you see in mending socks, besides holes!" + +Martha didn't answer. Myrt, finding things dull, took herself +off, languidly. At the door she turned and looked back on the +stiff little figure seated in the window with its face to the gray +twilight. + +"What's become of your friend What's-his-name that you used to darn +socks for at home? Grant, wasn't it? Eddie Grant?" + +"That was it," answered Martha. "He's married. He and his wife, +they've got to visit Eddie's folks back home, on their wedding trip. +I miss him something terrible. He was just like a son to me." + +[signed] Edna Ferber + + + + + +Those Who Went First + + + + +A distant bugle summoned them by day, +A far flame beckoned them across the night. +They rose--they flung accustomed things away,-- +The habit of old days and new delight. +They heard--they saw--they turned them over-seas,-- +Oh, Land of ours, rejoice in such as these! + +This was no call that sounded at their door, +No wild torch flaming in their window space,-- +yet the quick answer went from shore to shore, +The swift feet hastened to the trysting place, +Laughing, they turned to death from peace and ease,-- +Oh, Land of ours, be proud of such as these! + +High hearts--great hearts--whose valor strikes for us +Out of the awful Dissonance of war +This perfect note,--in you the chivalrous +YOUNG SEEKERS OF THE GRAIL RE-LIVE ONCE MORE,-- +Acclaimed of men, or fallen where none sees, +Oh, Land of ours, be glad of such as these! + +[signed]Theodosia Garrison + + + + + +A Summer's Day + + + + +Once I wrote a story of a woman's day in Paris, a Perfect Day. It +had to do with the buying of all the lovely trappings that are the +entrappings of the animal which Mr. Shaw believes woman endlessly +pursues. One of the animals was in the story, and there was food +and moonlight, music and adventure. + +I never sold that marvelous tale. For years it has peeked out +at me from a certain pigeon hole in my desk with the anguish of +a prisoner in the Black Hole of Calcutta, and with as little hope +for its liberation into the glad air of a free press. Yet it is +with me now in Paris. In that last distracted moment of packing, +when all sense of what is needed has left one, it was thrust into +a glove case like contraband cigarettes. There may have been some +idea of remolding it with a few deceiving touches--make a soldier +of the hero probably--but with the "love interest" firmly remaining. +There was only one Perfect Day to a woman, I thought. + +That was some weeks ago. I am now writing on the back of that +romance for lack of paper, writing of another day, wondering as +I work if the present day's adventures will have any quality that +might hold the reader's eye. I dare not ask for the reader's heart +when love does not stalk through the pages. + +Paris is now an entrenched camp but one is not awakened by bugles, +and the beat of drums is unheard as the troops march through the +city. It was the regular "blump-blump" of military boots past +my window which possibly aroused me into activity, although the +companies crossing from station to cantonment no longer turn the +head of the small boy as he rolls his hoop along the Champs Élysées. +This troubles me, and I always go to the curb to watch them when +I am in the street. + +There was an instant's hesitation before I pulled up the refractory +Venetian blind--the right rope so eager to rise, the left so +indifferent to its improvement--an instant's dread. I was afraid +"they" would be hopping about even this early in the morning, +hopping, hopping--the jerking gait of the mutilated--the little +broken waves of a sea of "horizon blue." But they must have been +just getting their faces washed at the Salon, where once we went +to see pictures and now find compositions more dire than the newest +schools of painting. + +On the other side the stretch of chestnuts, the taxicabs, returned +to their original mission, were already weaving about in their +effort to exterminate each other. Battling at the Marne had been +but a slight deviation in their mode of procedure, yet when a cab +recently ran down and killed a bewildered soldier impeded by a +crutch strange to him, Paris raised its voice in a new cry of rage. +Beyond the Champs Élysées, far beyond, rose the Eiffel tower. +Capable, immune so far from the attacks of the enemy, its very +outlines seem to have taken on a great importance. Once the giant +toy of a people who frolicked, it now serves in its swift mission +as the emblem of a race more gigantic than we had conceived. + +It is not a relieving thought to such of us as still can play, that +spirit, whether in the bosom of the boulevardier or his country +cousin playing bowls in the cool of the evening, is the same that +projects itself brilliantly across the battlefield; that the flash +of a woman's eye as she invites a conquest is the flame upon the +alter when sacrifice is needed; that the very gaiety which makes +one laugh is a force to endure the deepest pits that have been +dug for mankind. Even as I continually struggle with a lump in my +throat which I often think should remain with me forever, I dare +claim that of all the necessitous qualities in life the spirit +of play must be the last to leave a race. Its translation to the +gravities of living needs no bellows for the coaxing of the fire. +It is ever burning upon the hearth of the happy heart. + +The gilded statuary of the bridge of Alexander III, like flaming +beacons in the sun's rays, waved us out and on to the Invalides to +see the weekly awarding of medals. It is presumably the gay event +of the week as the band plays, and there is some color in the throngs +who surge along the colonnades to look into the court of honor. +A portion of the great space is now accommodating huge shattered +cannon and air craft of the enemy, their massiveness suggesting, as +the little glittering medals are pinned upon the soldiers' breasts, +that it is not so easy to be a hero and go a-capturing. + +By the judicious wavings of famous autographs we were permitted the +upper balcony to sketch the heroic ones within the hollow square +formed by soldiers and marines. Directly beneath us stood the +band with the brassard of the red cross on their arms, for they +are still the stretcher bearers at the front. In the center of +the square was a little group of men, seventy perhaps but the space +was vast. Some were standing, some seated with stiff stumps of +legs sticking out queerly. Here and there a nurse stood by a blind +man, and there were white oblong gaps in the line which designated +the beds of the paralyzed. + +I had set my teeth and said that I must stand it when across the +courtyard like a liquid stream of some spilled black portion came the +mothers and the wives, who were to wear the ribbon their soldiers +had earned in exchange for their lives. Or should there be little +sons or daughters they received this wondrous emblem of their fathers' +sacrifice. We could see the concerted white lift of handkerchiefs +to the eyes of the black line of women as the general bestowed the +honors. But the little children were tranquil. + +With the beginning of the distribution the band, for which I had +longed that it might give a glow to the war, swung into a blare of +triumph. It was the first note of music we had heard in France. +And as we all expressed our emotion with abandonment throughout +the enlivening strains of "The Washington Post," I appreciated the +infinite wisdom of marching drumless through the streets--of the +divine lack of the bugles' song. For music, no matter its theme, +makes happy only those who are already happy. To those who suffer +it urges an unloosening of their grief--and grief must not go abroad +in France. + +There was an end to the drama. The guard of honor marched through +the porte, banners flying. It was a happy ending, I suppose, +though one might not think so by the triumphal chariots that entered +the court to bear away the heroes--chariots with that red emblem +emblazoned upon a white disc which would have mystified an early +Caesar. But my thoughts were not entirely with the chief actors +in the play, rather with the squad of soldiers who had surrounded +them, the supers who would have enjoyed medals, too, and upon whom +opportunity had not smiled; whose epic of brave deeds may never +be read, and who, by chance, may go legless yet ribbonless up the +Champs Élysées. + +"They" were hopping up the Avenue when we crossed it again, yet we +all went on about our daily tasks as one passes the blind man on +the corner of Sixth Avenue and Thirty-third Street. He may receive +a penny, a twang of the heart strings, but he must be passed +to go into the shop. My list was in my purse bearing but a faint +resemblance to the demands of other years. I thought as I took it +out what confusion of mind would have been my portion had I found +it in my purse three summers ago, in what state of madness could +any one prepare for a day in Paris such a program as: "Gloves, +Hospital 232, furs, workshop for blind, shell combs, see my baby +at Orphelinat, hair nets, cigarettes to my soldier, try on gowns, +funeral of Am. airman," and on and on through each day's great +accomplishment to the long quiet night. + +Yet to buy freely and even frivolously in France need harass nothing +more soulful than a letter of credit, and it was with less of guilt +than of fear that I entered the courtyard of my furrier. I turned +the button ever so gently with the same dread in my heart that I +had suffered in going back to all of my shop keepers of previous +summers. Would he still be there? Two years is a long time, and +he was a young man. But he was there, wounded in the chest but at +work in the expectation of being recalled. He did not want to go +back, but of course if he was needed-- + +And I must lay stress on the magnificence of this hope that he might +not have to return to the trenches. I have found many who do not +want to go back. Fierce partisans of French courage deny this, +reading in my contention a lack of bravery, but to me it is valor +of a glorious color. For they do return without resentment, and, +what is more difficult in this day of monumental deeds and minute +bickerings, without criticism. + +Like most of the men who came out of the trenches he had very +little to say about them. It amused him to hear that my new fur +coat purchased in America is of so fleeting a dye that I must dart +into the subway whenever the sun shines. He was laughing quietly +as he wished me a cloudy winter upon my descending the broad stone +steps into the empty, echoing courtyard. The unexpected appreciation +of my doubtful humor set me musing over the possibility of a duty +new to Americans. It is the French who have stood for gaiety. We +have warmed ourselves in their quick wit. Perhaps it is time for +us to do our little clownish best to set them laughing. + +Having made the resolve I failed meanly to put it into execution. +I knew I was going to fail as the motor stopped before the great +house in the rue Daru--the lordly house of exquisitely tinted walls +although the colors are not seen by those who dwell within. There +is a paved COUR beyond the high wall with great steps leading up +to the hotel. At the right are the stables, where delicate fabrics +are woven--the workmen with heads erect; where are special looms +for those who, by the sad demands of this war, are denied hands as +well as their two eyes. At the left is another building and here +the men play in a gymnasium, even fence with confidence. In an +anteroom is a curious lay figure that the most sensitive of the +students may learn massage--it is the blind in Japan who give their +understanding fingers to this work--and in the rooms above is a +printing press, silent for lack of funds, but ready to give a paper +of his own to the sightless. Only, at "The Light House" they will +not accept that a single one of their guests is without vision. +"Ah GUARDIENNE," cried one of the students to the American woman +who has established our Light House methods over there, "you do not +see the unevenness of this fabric for your eyes are in your way." + +I was standing in the room where the plan of the house is set upon +a table. It is the soldier's first lesson that he may know the +turns and steps, and run about without the pitiful outstretching +of arms. There were other callers upon the GUARDIENNE. A blind +graduate who had learned to live (which means to work) had returned +with his little old father, and both were telling her that he had +enough orders for his sweaters from the "Trois Quartiers" to keep him +occupied for two years. The family felt that he was established--so +there was nothing more to fear. And then because we were all happy +over it the old man and the woman and myself began to cry noiselessly. +Only the blind boy remained smiling through the choking silence. + +I went to the window and glared down into the gardens where other +soldiers were studying at little tables with a professor for each, +and I asked myself why, in this great exigency, I was not being +funny and paying my debt to France. But there was nothing to be +funny about. The thing that dried my tears was the recollection +of the blind asylum of my youth, where the "inmates" never learned +to walk without groping, where we were shown hideous bead furniture, +too small for dolls, which was the result of their eager but misspent +lives. + +There was a gown to be ordered before noon and as I drove back +through the Faubourg St. Honoré I found myself looking fondly, +thirstily into the shop windows, lifting my free eyes to the charming +vagaries of old buildings, and again I made a vow although it had +nothing to do with humor. On my dressing table rests a cushion of +brocade and I shall carry it about as one who may yield to temptation +carries a pledge, for the card which is attached chants out to +me whenever my eyes rest upon it: "Soldat Pierre. Aveugle de la +guerre. Blessé à Verdun." And as long as Soldier Pierre. Blind +from the war. Wounded at Verdun can go on weaving his fabrics I pray +that I may carry whatever burden may be mine with the unrebellious +spirit. + +Ah well! The robe took its place in the curriculum of my new +Parisian day. It was to be a replica in color of that worn by the +head of the house--her one of mourning was so bravely smart--for +the business must go on and only the black badge of glory in +fashionable form show itself in the gay salon. "Yes, we must go +on," she said, "though every wife may give her mate. It is of an +enormity to realize before one dies that he can be done without--that +there are enough little ones to keep France alive and we women in +the meantime can care for the country. Our men may die glad in +that thought, but I think there must be a little of grief, too. +It is sad not to be needed. Yes, Madame, blue for you where mine +is black, and in place of the crêpe something very brilliant. It +is only Americans that we can make gay now, and it keeps the women +in the sewing room of good cheer to work in colors. Too dear you +think? Ah, no, Madame, observe the model!" + +Conscious that she had taken the basest advantage of my sympathy, +and glad that she had done so I went to déjeuner with a feeling +that I had deserved it which I might not otherwise have enjoyed. +We were lunching at the restaurant on the Seine which felt for +a short time the upheaval of war. Among the first called to the +front had been the proprietor, and the august deputies whose custom +it was to take their midday meal at this famous eating place had +suffered from an unevenness of the cuisine. He is back at his +establishment now, an ammunition maker on the night shift and the +excellent and watchful patron at noon. + +Our guests came promptly, for France still eats, although, if I can +say anything so anomalous, does not stop to do so. The war talk +continues albeit one carries it more lightly through a meal. A +French officer arrived in the only automobile of his garage which +the government had not commandeered. We looked down upon it stealthily +that we might not give offense to his chauffeur, for the car is a +Panhard in the last of its teens--which holds no terrors to a woman +but is a gloomy age for a motor. An American architect from our +Clearing House bowed over my hand a little more Gallic in these +days than the Gaul himself. He has a right to the manners of the +country. He had come over at the beginning of the war for a month +and is determined to stick it out if he never builds another railway +station. "To see the troops march through the Arc de Triomphe!" is +the cry of the Americans, but the French do not express themselves +so dramatically. + +There is drama enough, though, even in the filing of papers at +every American relief society. That and the new sensation of work +serves to hold the dilettante of our country to his long task. +"This is the president's office," you will be told in a hushed voice +outside some stately door. Then one discovers in Mr. President +a playmate of Mayfair or Monte Carlo or Taormina who may never +previously have used a desk except as a support for the signing of +checks. + +Our friend had been engaged that morning upon the re-ticketing of +the Lafayette Kits which had come back from the front because there +was no longer a Gaspard to receive them. I put this down that +any young girl of our country who does not hear from "her soldier" +may understand the silence. And sometimes the poilu is a little +confused, writing a charming letter of thanks to "Monsieur Lafayette" +himself. + +A man takes coffee at déjeuner but finishes his cigar en route +to work. We were at the edge of Paris before the Illustrator had +thrown his away. We were not in the car of ancient lineage but in +that relic of other days a real automobile without the great white +letters of the army upon its sides and bonnet. Yet we were going +into the heart of the Army. We would not be among the derelicts +of battle that afternoon but with men sound of mind and body, and +the thought was grateful that there would be nothing to anguish +over. We were to visit two cantonments, rough barracks, in one of +which the men gathered after their "permission" for a re-equipment; +while at the second one were those soldiers who had become +separated from their regiments, and who were sent there until the +companies--if they existed--could be found, and the "isolated" +again dispatched to the front. + +I had anticipated a very relieving afternoon. The sun shone, the +long road led to open country, and many circling aeroplanes over +an aviation field nearby gave the air of a fête. Only the uniforms +of the English and American women who are attached to each of these +many cantonments suggested any necessitous combating of the grim +reaper. + +Yet they are not nurses of the body but of the spirit. From modest +little vine covered sheds erected in each ugly open space they +disperse good cheer augmented by coffee and cigarettes (and such +small comforts as we Americans send them) after the regulation army +rations are served by the commissary. They hear the men's stores, +comfort the unhappy ones, chaff the gloomy ones, and when they have +a moment's breathing space write letters to such of those as have +asked for a correspondent. + +One of these women--an American--was intent upon this occupation +at the first canteen we visited. She admitted that she was tired +but she must answer her letters. She was rather grave about it, +"I write to sixty-eight," she said, "and I'll tell you why. At +least I will tell you a little of it and you can read the rest. I +was on night duty. There is always one of us here. The men have +just come from visiting their homes and some of them are blue and +cannot sleep. Rude to us? Oh, never! I had written letters almost +all night and it was time to make the morning coffee, yet there was +still one to do. I was tempted to put it aside. I didn't remember +the man, but he had sent me a word of thanks. Well, somehow I did +answer it between the moment of filling the cauldron and getting +ready for the day. Here is his reply--it came this morning--" + +Translating crudely from the letter I read aloud to our little +circle: "Dear Madame, you have saved my life. I have no friends +and no people left for I am from the invaded districts, so on one +writes me. To-day I was on duty as the officer came into our trench +with the mail. He called my name. He gave me permission to leave +the listening post to receive your valued letter. While at his +side a shell tore up entirely my post. I think you, Madame, that +I am spared to fight for France--" + +I regarded her with longing. She had been the controller of a +destiny. I suppose we are all that when we bend our best efforts, +but seldom are we so definitely apprised of the reward of untiring +duty. + +A petty officer passed by the shack with a paper in his hands. +There were no sounding trumpets, but the men recognized the paper +and rose from the ground where they had been lounging to hear him +read the list of those who were to return immediately to the front. +As the names were called each one summoned turned without comment +or exclamation or expletive, picked up his kit dumped in a corner, +slung on the heavy equipment, saw that the huge loaf of bread was +secure--the extra shoes--refilled his canteen and moved over to +the barred gate. Occasionally one shook hands with a comrade and +all saluted the women of the little flower-bedecked hut. An order +was given and the gate was opened. They filed out into the dusty +road on their march to the railway station. The gate was closed. +A little hill rose higher than the ground of the barracks and we could +see them once again--stout little men in patched uniforms--bending +unresistingly under their burdens, the heavy steel helmets gleaming +but faintly in the sun. Another detachment entered the barracks. + +It was coffee time now. The soldiers were lingering politely about +with their tin cups in hand--not too expectantly, so as to assure +the ladies that if by any chance there was no coffee they would not +be disappointed. The gentlewoman in attendance had recently come +from a canteen near the front where soup is made and often eight +thousand bowls of it served in a day. The skin of her arms and +hands is, I fear, permanently unlovely from the steam of the great +kettles--or perhaps I should say permanently lovely now that one +knows the cause of the branding. I offered to pour in her place +and she assented. + +The men came up to the little bar. I began to pour. I had thought +I was about to do them a service. I knew with the first cup that +it was they who were doing me one. All the unrest and misery of +my idle if observing days in France was leaving me. I was pushing +back the recollection with the sweetness of physical effort. I +was at work. There is no living in France--or anywhere now--unless +one is at work. I served and served and urged fresh cups upon them. +They thought I was generous--I could not tell them that I had not +known a happy instant till this coffee pouring time. I had not +recognized that it was toiling with the hands that would bring a +surcease to the beating of queries at my bewildered brain. There +are no answers to this war. One can only labor for it and so, +strangely, forget it. + +Late that afternoon I had a cup of tea in a ground floor room of +a big Parisian hotel which has been freely assigned to an American +woman for the least known of all our relief work. I had come that +I might argue with her into giving up her long task for a brief +rest. My contention was to have been that she could stop at any +time as her work is never recognized. I found her doing up a parcel +of excellent garments for a man and three women. They were to be +assigned to the family of a respected painter of the Latin Quarter. +They will never know who is the middleman, and it has chanced that +she has dined in company with her day's donation. + +As I observed her tired tranquility I felt my argument growing +pointless. Whether it was coffee or the unacknowledged dispenser +of clothing to the uncrying needy it was service, and though my arm +muscles ached I could understand that it is the idle boy in Paris +which does not rest at night. + +And so I come tot he last sheet of the romance which is serving +so humbly my war-time needs. There is space for the dinner and +the closing in of the gentle night thanks to the repeated, fervid +declarations of the lovers on the other side of the paper. We +had been with the men that afternoon. We were among the officers +that evening. We dined at one of the great restaurants which has +timorously reopened its doors to find eager families ready to feast +honored sons. At one table sat three generations, the father of +the boy concealing his pride with a Gallic interest in the menu, +but the grandfather futilely stabbed the snails as his gleaming old +eyes kept at attention upon the be-medalled lad. Pretty women, too, +were there, subdued in costuming but with that amiable acceptance +of their position which is not to be found among the more eager +"lost ones" of other countries. And I enjoyed some relief in their +evidence once more, and some inward and scarcely to-be-expressed +solace in the thought that those soldiers who henceforth must go +disfigured through a fastidious world can every buy companionship. + +There was a theater attached to the restaurant. Through the glass +doors we could see an iridescence of scant costumes, but the audience +was light, and we ourselves preferred, as a more satisfactory ending +to our day, to walk quietly toward the Arc de Triomphe which is +waiting, waiting for fresh glories. On the other side of this last +sheet of paper my lovers had so walked together. But upon looking +over their passionate adventures I have discovered, at last, why +the romance has never found a market. On one side and then on the +other I have read and reread the two experiences. Yes, I find the +LOVE-story curiously lacking in love. + +[signed] Louise Closser Hale + + + + + +Children of War + + + + +Not for a transient victory, or some + Stubborn belief that we alone are right; + Not for a code or conquest do we fight, +But for the crowded millions still to come. + +This, unborn generations, is your war, + Although it is our blood that pays the price. + Be worthy, children, of our sacrifice, +And dare to make your lives worth fighting for. + +We give up all we love that you may loathe + Intrigue and darkness, that you may disperse + The ranks of ugly tyrannies and, worse, +The sodden languor and complacent sloth. + +Do not betray us, then, but come to be + Creation's crowning splendor, not its slave; + Knowing our lives were spent to keep you brave, +And that our deaths were meant to make you free. + +[signed] Louis Untermeyer + +Courtesy "Collier's Weekly." + + + + + +Khaki-Boy + + + + +Where the torrent of Broadway leaps highest in folly and the nights +are riddled with incandescent tire and chewing gum signs; jazz +bands and musical comedies to the ticket speculators' tune of five +dollars a seat, My Khaki-Boy, covered with the golden hoar of three +hundred Metropolitan nights rose to the slightly off key grand +finale of its eighty-first matinée, curtain slithering down to +the rub-a-dud-dub of a score of pink satin drummer boys with slim +ankles and curls; a Military Sextette of the most blooded of Broadway +ponies; a back ground of purple eye-lidded privates enlisted from +the ranks of Forty-Second Street; a three hundred and fifty dollar +a week sartorial sergeant in khaki and spotlight, embracing a ninety +pound ingénue in rhinestone shoulder-straps. The tired business +man and his lady friend, the Bronx and his wife, Adelia Ohio, Dead +heads, Bald heads, Sore heads, Suburbanites, Sybarites; the poor +dear public making exit sadder than wiser. + +On the unpainted side of the down slithering curtain, a canvas +mountain-side was already rumbling rearward on castors. An overhead +of foliage jerked suddenly higher, revealed a vista of brick wall. +A soldiers' encampment, tents and all, rolled up like a window shade. +The ninety pound ingénue, withholding her silver-lace flouncings +from the raw edges of moving landscape, high-stepped to a rearward +dressing room; the khaki clad hero brushing past her and the pink +satin drummer boys for first place down a spiral staircase. + +Miss Blossom De Voe, pinkest of satin drummer boys, withdrew +an affronted elbow, the corners of her mouth quivering slightly, +possibly of their own richness. They were dewy, fruit-like lips, +as if Nature were smiling with them at her own handiwork. + +"Say, somebody around here better look where he's going or mama's +khaki-boy will be calling for an arnica high-ball. What does he +think I yam, the six o'clock subway rush?" + +Miss Elaine Vavasour wound down the spiral ahead of Miss De Voe, +the pink satin blouse already in the removing. + +"Go suck a quince Blos. It's good for crazy bone and fallen arch." + +"If you was any funnier, Elaine, you'd float," said Miss De Voe +withdrawing a hair pin as she wound downward, an immediate avalanche +of springy curls released. + +Beneath the stage of the Gotham Theater a corridor of dressing rooms +ran the musty subterranean length of the sub cellar. A gaseous +gloomy dampness here; this cave of the purple lidded, so far below +the level of reality. + +At the door of Miss De Voe's eight by ten, shared by four, dressing +room, one of the back drop of privates, erect, squarebacked, head +thrown up by the deep-dipping cap vizor, emerged at sight of her, +lifted hat revealing a great permanent wave of hair that could only +be born not bought. + +"H'lo, Hal." + +"Hello, Blossum." + +"Whose hot water bottle did you come to borrow?" + +"Hot water bottle?" + +"Yeh, you look like you got the double pneumonia and each one of +the pneumonia's got the tooth ache. Who stole your kite, ikkie +boy?" + +Mr. Hal Sanderson flung up a fine impatient head, the permanent +hair-wave lifting, + +"We'll can the comedy, Blossum," he said. + +She lowered to a mock curtsey, mouth skewed to control laughter, +arms akimbo. + +"We will now sing psalm twenty-three." + +"Come to supper with me, Blos? You been dodging me pretty steady +here lately." + +She clapped her hand to her brow, plastering a curl there. + +"Migaw, I am now in the act of dropping thirty cents and ten cents +tip into my Pig Bank. Will I go to supper with him? Say, darling, +will the Hudson flow by Grant's monument to-night at twelve? On +a Saturday matinée he asks me to supper with a question mark." + +"Honest, Bloss, you'd hand a fellow a ha ha if he invited you to +his funeral." + +She sobered at that, leaning against the cold plastered wall, +winding one of the shining curls about her fore finger. + +"What's the matter--Hal?" + +He handed her a torn newspaper sheet, blue penciled. + +She took it but did not glance down. + +"Drafted?" + +"Yes," he said. + +The voice of a soubrette trilling snatches of her topical song as +she creamed off her make-up, came to them through the sulky gloom +of the corridor. Behind the closed door of Miss De Voe's dressing +room, the gabble of the pink satin ponies was like hash in the +chopping. Overhead, moving scenery created a remote sort of thunder. +She stood looking up at him, her young mouth parted. + +"I--oh, Hal--well--well, whatta you know about that--Hal +Sanderson--drafted." + +He stepped closer, the pallor coming out stronger in his face, +enclosed her wrist, pressing it. + +"Grover's drafted too." + +"Grover--too?" + +"He's three thousand and one. Ten numbers before me." + +Her irises were growing, blackening. + +"Well, whatta you know about that? Grover White, the world's dancing +tenor, and Hal Sanderson the world dancing tenor's understudy, +drafted! The little tin soldiers are covered with rust and Uncle +Sam is going to--" + +"Hurry, Bloss, get into your duds. I want to talk. Hurry. We'll +eat over at Ramy's." + +She turned but flung out an arm, grasping now his wrist. + +"I--oh, Hal--I--I just never was so--so sad and so--so glad!" + +The door opened to a slit enclosing her. In his imitation uniform, +hand on empty carriage belt, Mr. Hal Sanderson stood there a moment, +his face whitening, tightening. + + +In Ramy's glorified basement, situated in one of the Forties which +flow like tributaries into the heady waters of Broadway, one may +dine from soup to nuts, raisins and regrest for one hour and sixty +cents. In Ramy's, courses may come and courses may go, but the +initiated one holds on to his fork forever. Here red wine flows +like water, being ninety-nine per cent., just that. + +Across a water tumbler of ruby contents, Miss Blossom De Voe, the +turbulent curls all piled up beneath a slightly dusty but highly +effective amethyst velvet hat, regarded Mr. Sanderson, her perfect +lips trembling as it were, against an actual nausea of the spirit +which seemed to pull at them. + +"Whadda you putting things up to me for, Hal? You're old enough +to know your own business." + +Blue shaved, too correct in one of Broadway's black and white checked +Campus Suits, his face as cleanly chiseled and thrust forward as a +Discobolus, Mr. Sanderson patted an open letter spread out on the +table cloth between them, his voice rising carefully above the din +of diners. + +"There's fellows claiming exemption every hour of the day that +ain't got this much to show, Bloss. I was just wise enough to see +these things and get ready for 'em." + +"You ain't your mother's sole support. What about them snapshots +of the two farms of hers out in Ohio you gave me?" + +"But I got to be in this country to take charge of her affairs for +her--my mother's old, honey--ain't I the one to manager for her? +Only child and all that. Honest, Bloss, you need a brick house." + +"Well, that old lawyer that wrote that letter has been doing it +all the time, why all of a sudden should you--" + +He cast his eyes ceilingward, flopping his hands down loosely to +the table in an attitude of mock exhaustion. + +"Oh, Lord, Bloss, lemme whistle it, maybe you can catch on the. +Brains, honey, little Hal's brains is what got that letter there +written. I seen this coming from the minute conscription was in +the air. Little Hal seen it coming, and got out his little hatchet. +Try to prove that I ain't the sole one to take charge of my mother's +affairs. Try to prove it. That's what I been fixing for myself +these two months, try to--" + +"Sh-h-h-h, Charley--" + +"Brains is what done it,--every little thing of my mother's is in +my care. I fixed it. Now little Blossy-blossum will you be good?" + +He regarded her with cocked head and face receptive for her approval. +"Now will you be good!" + +She sat loosely, meeting his gaze, but her face as relaxed as her +attitude. A wintry stare had set in. + +"Oh," she said, "I see." And turned away her head. + +He reached closer across the table, regardless of the conglomerate +diners about, felt for her hand which lay limp and cold beside her +plate, and which she withdrew. + +"Darling," he said, straining for her gaze. + +"Don't, Hal." + +"Darling, don't you see? It's fate knocking at our door. There's +not a chance rover can get exemption. He ain't eve got a fifth +cousin or a flat-foot!" + +"Maybe he could claim exemption on dandruff." + +"I'm serious, honey. It's going to be one of those cases where +an understudy wakes up to find himself famous. I can't fail if I +get this chance, Bloss. It's the moment I have been drudging for, +for five solid years. I never was in such voice as now, I never +was so fit. Not an ounce of fat. Not a song in the part I don't +know backwards. I tell you it's the hand of fate, Bloss, giving +us a hand-out. I can afford now, darling, to make good with you. +On three fifty a week I can ask a little queen like you to double +up with me. From thirty-five to three fifty! I tell you honey, +we're made. I'm going to dress my little dolly in cloth of gold +and silver fox. I'm going to perch her in the suite de luxe of +the swellest hotel in town. I'm--" + +She pushed back from the table, turning more broadly from him. + +"Don't," she said pressing her kerchief against her lips. + +"Why--why what's the matter, Bloss? Why--why, what's the matter?" + +"Don't talk to me for a minute," she said, still in profile; "I'll +be all right, only don't talk." + +"Why, Bloss, you--sick?" + +She shook her head. "No. No." + +"You ain't getting cold feet now that we got the thing before us--in +our hand?" + +"I dunno. I dunno. I--don't want nothing. That's all, nothing +but to be left alone." + +He sucked his lips inward, biting at them. + +"Don't--don't think I ain't noticed, Bloss, that you--you ain't +been the same--that you been different--for weeks. Sometimes I +think maybe you're going cold on--on this long engagement stuff. +That's why this thing is breaking just right for us, honey. I +felt you slippin' a little. I'm ready now, Peaches, we can't go +taxi-cabbing down for that license none too soon to suit me." + +She shook her head, beating softly with one small fist into her +other palm. + +"No, Hal," she said, her mouth tightening and drawing down. + +"Why--why, Bloss!" + +Suddenly she faced him, her hands both fists now, and coming down +with a force that shivered the china. + +"You--you ain't a man, you ain't. You ain't a man, you--you're +a slacker! You're a slacker, that's what you are, and Gawd, how +I--how I hate a slacker!" + +"Bloss--why, girl--you--you're cra---" + +"Oh, I've known it. Deep down inside of me I've known it since +the day we found ourselves in the mess of this war. I knew it, +and all those months kept kidding myself that maybe--you--wasn't." + +"You--" + +"Thought maybe when you'd read the newspapers enough and heard the +khaki-boys on the street corners enough, and listened to--to your +country pleading enough that--that you'd rise up to show you was +a man. I knew all these months down inside of me that you was a +slacker, but I kept hopin'. Gawd how I kept hopin'." + +"You--you can't talk to me that way! You're---" + +"Can't I! Ha! Anybody can talk any old way to a slacker he wants +to and then not say enough. You ain't got no guts you--you're +yellow, that's what you are, you--" + +"Blossum!" + +"You, sneaking up to me with trumped up exemption stuff when your +country's talking her great heart out for men to stand by 'er! +Gawd! If I was a man--If was a man she wouldn't have to ask me +twice, but before I went marching off I'd take time off to help the +street cleaning department wipe up a few streets with the slackers +I found loafing around under a government they were afraid to fight +for. I'd show 'em. I'd show 'em if a government is good enough +to live under it's good enough to fight under. I'd show 'em." + +"If you was a man, Blossum, you'd eat those words. By God, you'd +eat 'em. I'm no coward--I--" + +"I know you're not, Hal--that's why I--I--" + +"I got the right to decide for myself if I want to fight when I +don't know what I'm fighting for. This ain't my war, this ain't +America's war. Before I fight in it I want a darn sight to know +what I'm fighting for, and not all the street corner rah rah stuff +has told me yet. I ain't a bull to go crazy with a lot of red +waved in my face. I've got no blood to spill in the other fellow's +battle. I'm---" + +"No, but you--" + +"I'm at a point in my life that I've worked like a dog to reach. +Let the fellows that love the hero stuff give up their arms and +their legs and the breath that's in them for something they don't +know the meaning of. Because some big-gun of a Emperor out in +Austria was assassinated, I ain't going to bleed to death for it. +It's us poor devils that get the least out of the government that +right away are called on to give the most, it's us---" + +"Hal, ain't--ain't you ashamed!" + +"No. I ain't ashamed and I ain't afraid. You know it ain't because +I'm afraid. I've licked more fellows in my time than most fellows +can boast. I--I got the Fifty-fifth Street fire rescue medal to my +credit if anybody should ask you. I--I--ask anybody from my town +if any kid in it ever licked me. But I ain't going to fight when +I ain't got a grudge against no man. Call that being a coward if +you like, but then you and me don't speak the same language." + +Her silence seemed to give off an icy vapor. + +"That's what they all say," she said. "It's like hiding behind a +petticoat, hiding behind a defense like that. Sure you ain't got +a grudge. Maybe you don't know what it's all about--God knows who +does. Nobody can deny that. There ain't nothing reasonable about +war, if there was there wouldn't be none. That talk don't get you +nowheres. The proposition is that we're at war, whatever you or +anybody else may think of it." + +"That's just it--we didn't have no say-so." + +"Just the same, Hal Sanderson, this great big grand country of ours +is at war, and needs you. It ain't what you think any more that +counts. Before we was in war you could talk all you wanted, but +now that we're IN, there's only one thing to do, only one, and not +all your fine talk about peace can change it. One thing to do. +Fight!" + +"No government can make me--" + +"If you want peace now it's up to you to help make it, a new peace +and a grander peace, not go baying at the moon after a peace that +ain't no more." + +"You better get a soap box. If this is the way you got of trying +to get out of something you're sorry for, I'll let you off easier--you +don't need to try to---" + +She regarded him with her lips quivering, a quick layer of tears +forming, trembling and venturing to the edge of her lashes. + +"Hal--Hal--a--a fellow that I've banked on like I have you! It +ain't that--you know it ain't. I could have waited for ten times +this long. It's only I--I'm ashamed, Hal. Ashamed. there ain't +been a single gap in the chorus from one of the men enlisting that +my heart ain't just dropped in my shoes like dough. I never envied +a girl on my life the way I did Elaine Vavasour when she stood on +the curb at the Battery the other day crying and watching Charlie +Kirkpatrick go marching off. Charlie was a pacifist, too, as long +as the country was out of war, and there was something to argue +about. The minute the question was settled, he shut up, buckled +on his belt and went! That's the kind of a pacifist to be. The +kind of fellow that when he sees peace slipping, buckles on and +starts out for a new peace; a realer peace. That's the kind of a +fellow I thought you--you---" + +Her voice broke then abruptly, in a rain of tears, and she raised +the crook of her arm to her face with the gesture of a child. +"That--that's the kind of a fellow I--I---" + +His cigarette discarded and curling up in a little column of smoke +between them, he sat regarding her, a heave surge of red rising +above the impeccable white of his collar into the roots of his hair. +It was as if her denouncement had come down in a welt across his +face. + +"Nobody ever--nobody ever dared to talk like this to me before. +Nobody ever dared to call me a coward. Nobody. Because it ain't +so!" + +"I know it ain't, Hal. If it was could I have been so strong for +you all these months? I knew the way you showed yourself in the +Fifty-fifth Street fire. I read about it in the papers before I +ever knew you. I--I know the way you mauled Ed Stein, twice your +size, the night he tried to--to get fresh with me. I know you +ain't a slacker in your heart, Hal, but I--I couldn't marry a man +that got fake exemption. Couldn't, no matter how it broke my heart +to see him go marching off! Couldn't! Couldn't!" + +"That's what it means, Blossum--marching off!" + +"I know it, but how--how could I marry a man that wasn't fit to +war his country's uniform even in a show. I--I couldn't marry a +man like that if it meant the solid gold suite in the solid goldest +hotel in this town. I couldn't marry a--a fake khaki-boy!" + +"Ain't there no limit, Bloss, to the way you can make a fellow feel +like dirt under your feet? My God! ain't there no limit?" + +"There--there's nothing on earth can make a man of you, Hal, nothing +on God's earth but War! Every once in a while there's some little +reason seems to spring up for there bein' a war. You're one of them +reasons, Hal. Down in my heart I know it that you'll come back, +and when I get a hunch it's a hunch! Down in my heart I know it, +dear, that you'll come back to me. But you'll come back a man, +you'll come back with the yellow streak pure gold, you'll-you'll +come back to me pure gold, dear. I know it. I know it." + +His head was back as if his throat were open to the stroke of her +words, but there was that growing in his face which was enormous, +translucent, even apogean. + +He tore up the paper between them, slowly, and in criss crosses. + +"And you, Blossom?" he said, not taking his eyes, with their growing +lights, off her. + +"Why, I'll be waiting, Hal," she said, the pink coming out to flood +her face, "I'll be waiting--Sweetheart." + +[signed] Fannie Hurst + + + + + +The Married Slacker + + + + +[This is a comic strip in three panels. I'll do my best to describe +each panel and then put the text which comes beneath the panel.] + +[Panel 1: A man and woman sit at a meal with pictures of Washington +and Lincoln glowering from the wall in the man's full view behind +the woman. The woman is reading a paper. The man is listening, +but not looking at the woman, rather at his meal in front of him. +A maid brings coffee cups on a platter.] + +SHE (reading)--"At 5:15, the barrage was raised, and the Americans +advanced to attack. The long line moved forward like the steady +on-sweep of the tide--unwavering, irresistible, implacable." Oh, +isn't it perfectly wonderful! I knew our men would fight gloriously! +And just listen to this: + +[Panel 2: The images of Washington and Lincoln have doubled +in size and the eyes clearly glare at the man. The man now shows +beads of sweat around his head and wears an expression of distress. +The woman continues to read the paper. The maid departs the scene +having delivered the coffee cups.] + +SHE (reading)--"The Germans fought desperately but the American +lines never wavered in their onward course. Sometimes the broad +stretch of the battlefield was enveloped in great volumes of smoke, +but a moment later, as the air cleared, the same lines were to +be seen moving onward. At 6:45, the sound of cheering was heard +amidst the din of the battle and a few moments later, the message +was sent back that the American troops had captured the great German +position." + +[Panel 3: The images of Washington and Lincoln are now almost +fully the size of the wall and marks of consternation and anger are +clear on their brows as they glare at the man. The woman continues +to read the paper without looking up. The man is fleeing the room +in great haste with his arms in the air. He has knocked over his +chair in his haste and has bumped into the maid who was returning +with a coffee pot and biscuits. The man's face is obscured by +raised hands and his overcoat, but he is clearly fleeing.] + +SHE (reading)--"The American victory of yesterday may well mark +the beginning of the end of the war. London and Paris are ringing +with the praises of the American soldiers. President Wilson has +proclaimed a national holiday in celebration of the triumph, and +the American soldier has won imperishable glory as a fighting man." + +[The last panel is signed] McCutcheon + + + + + +Hymn for America + + + + +Air: "Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled" + + +Where's the man, in all the earth-- +Man of want or man of worth-- +Who shall now to rank or birth + Knee of homage bend? +Though he war with chance or fate, +If his heart be free of hate, +If his soul with love be great, + He shall be our friend. + +Where's the man, of wealth or wage, +Dare be traitor to his age, +To the people's heritage + Won by war and woe,-- +Counting but as private good +All the gain of brotherhood +By the base so long withstood? + He shall be our foe. + +Where's the man that does not feel +Freedom as the common weal, +Duty's sword the only steel + Can the battle end? +Comrades, chant in unison +Creed the noblest 'neath the sun: +"One for all and all for one," + Till each foe be friend. + +[signed] Robert Underwood Johnson + + + + + +The Breaking Out of the Flags + + + + +It is April, +And the snow lingers on the dark sides of evergreens; +The grass is brown and soggy +With only a faint, occasional overwash of green. +But under the leafless branches +The white bells of snowdrops are nodding and shaking +Above their green sheaths. +Snow, fir-trees, snowdrops--stem and flower-- +Nature offers us only white and green +At this so early springtime. +But man gives more. + +Man has unfurled a Nation's flags +Above the city streets; +He has flung a striped and starry symbol of bright colors +Down every curving way. +Blossoms of War, +Blossoms of Suffering, +Strange beautiful flowers of the New Year: +Flags! + +Over door lintels and cornices, +Above peaked gables and flat mansard-roofs +Flutter the flags. +The avenues are arcaded with them, +The narrow alleys are bleached with stripes and stars. +For War is declared, +And the people gird themselves +Silently--sternly-- +Only the flags make arabesques in the sunshine, +Twining the red of blood and the silver of achievement +Into a gay, waving pattern +Over the awful, unflinching Destiny +Of War. + +The flags ripple and jar +To the tramp of marching men, +to the rumble of caissons over cobblestones. +From seaboard to seaboard +And beyond, across the green waves of the sea, +They flap and fly. +Men plant potatoes and click typewriters +In the shadow of them, +And khaki-clad soldiers +Lift their eyes to the garish red and blue +And turn back to their khaki tasks +Refreshed. + +America, +The clock strikes. +The spring is upon us, +The seed of our forefathers +Quickens again in the soil, +And these flags are the small, early flowers +Of the solstice of our Hope! + +Thru suffering to Peace! +Thru sacrifice to Security! +Red stripes, +Turn us not from our purpose, +Lead us up as by a ladder +To the deep blue quiet +Wherein are shining +The silver stars. + +Soldiers, sailors, clerks, and office boys, +Men, and Women--but not children, +No! Not children! +Let these march +With their paper caps and toy rifles +And feel only the panoply of War-- +But the others, +Welded and forged, +Seared, melted, broken, +Molded without flaw, +Slowly, faithfully pursuing a Purpose, +A Purpose of Peace, + +Even into the very flame of Death. +Over the city, +Over all the cities, +Flutter flags. +Flags of spring, +Flags of burgeoning, +Flags of fulfillment. + +[signed] Amy Lowell + + + + + +Our Day + + + + +London, April 20, 1917 + + +It was the evening of our Day; that young April day when in +the solemn vastness of St. Paul's were held the services to mark +America's historic entrance into the Great World War. Across the +mighty arch of the Chancel on either side hung the Stars and Stripes +and the Union Jack. + +From the organ pealed those American songs to which half a century +ago, in another war for Freedom, men marched to battle, and, even +if by ways of defeat and death, to ultimate Victory. How many there +were that April day for whom the sight of the Stars and Stripes was +blurred with tears. How the familiar airs and simple words pained +us with the memory of our distant homes. Perhaps for the first +time we understood the solemn significance of this dedication to +war of what we hardly knew was so unspeakably dear. + +In the Crypt of St. Paul's, Mausoleum of England's greatest soldier +and sailor heroes, their ashes rest who once fought and conquered. +If it is given to those who have gone before to hear our human +appeal, perhaps the immortal spirits of Nelson, of Wellington, of +Kitchener, whose tragic fate is its unfulfilled destiny, may have +rested like an inspiration on that kindred nation offering the +sacrifice of all it holds most sacred to the cause of Divine Justice. + +After the solemn benediction thousands streamed slowly out to mingle +with the multitudes gathered before the great Entrance where Queen +Anne in crown and scepter keeps majestic guard, and where in peaceful +days doves flit and flutter down to peck at the grain strewn about +her royal feet. + +Stern and momentous times have passed over that old, gray Cathedral; +times of a Nation's grief and a Nation's rejoicing. But of all such +days, in its centuries of existence, none has been so momentous for +the destiny of the Empire as that sunny April day. And yet--and +yet--perhaps more touching, more solemn, even than the High +Service at St. Paul's, that which stirred Americans even more who +love England with only a lesser love, and made us realize as never +before what America stands for, joint defender now of the new +Civilization, was the silent symbol of her dedication to the Cause +of Human Freedom, for all London to see and on which, seeing, to +reflect. It was the symbol of that for which Statesmen who were +also prophets, have lived and toiled. + +It rose against the glowing West, never to be forgotten by those +who saw it at the close of Our Day, for it marked the new Epoch. + +Now at last "Let the dead Past bury its Dead." + +Along Whitehall, down Parliament Street, and where towards the left +Westminster Bridge spans its immortal river, stand the Houses of +Parliament, their delicate tracery of stonework etched against the +sunset sky. + +Hurrying crowds, released from the day's toil, stopped here, as if +by a common impulse, to gaze upwards, and, gazing in silent wonder, +they saw such a sight as London has never seen before. On the +highest pinnacle of the Victoria tower where the flag of another +nation has never before shared its proud eminence there floated +together from one flagstaff Old Glory and the Union Jack. + +That was America's supreme consecration. + +[signed] Annie E. Lane (Mrs. John Lane) + + + + + +Pour La Patrie + + + + +They were brothers, Louis and François, standing in the presence of +the Prussian commander, looking hopelessly into his cold, unsmiling +eyes. For the third time in as many days he was bargaining with +them for that which God had given them and they in turn had promised +to France: their lives. + +"Do not make the mistake of thinking that we exalt you for what +you may call courage, or that your country will sing your praises," +said the general harshly. "Your country will never know how or when +you die. You have nothing to gain by dying, not even the credit +of dying." + +François allowed his hot, dry eyes to sweep slowly around the group. +He was pale, his forehead wet. + +"You are soldiers," said he, his voice low and steady. "Is there +one among you who would do the thing we are asked to do? If there is +one man here who will stand forth in the presence of his comrades +and say that he would betray Germany as you are asking us to +betray France,--if there is such a man among you, let him speak, +and the,--then I will do what you ask of me." + +A dozen pairs of hard implacable eyes returned his challenge. No +man spoke. No man smiled. + +"You do not even pretend," cried the little poilu. "well, I too +am a soldier. I am a soldier of France. It is nothing to me that +I day to-day or to-morrow, or that my country knows when or how. +Take me out and shoot me," he shouted, facing the commander. "I +am but one poor soldier. I am one of millions. What is my little +life worth to you?" + +"Nothing," said the commander. "Ten such as you would not represent +the worth of one German soldier." + +"We say not so over there," said François boldly, jerking his thumb +in the direction of Pont-a-mousson. + +And now for the first time the Prussians about him smiled. + +"What is it, pray, that you do say over there?" inquired the general +mockingly. + +"That the worst of the Frenchmen is worth five of your best," said +François, unafraid. Why should he be afraid to speak the truth? +He was going to die. + +"And one of your frog-eating generals is the equal of five of me, +I suppose?" The commander's grim face relaxed into a smile. "That +is good! Ha-ha! That is good!" + +"So we say, excellency," said François simply. "Our Papa Joffre--ah, +he is greater than all of you put in one." + +The Prussian flushed. His piggish eyes glittered. + +"Your Papa Joffre!" he scoffed. + +"He is greater than the Kaiser,--though I die for saying it," cried +the little poilu recklessly. + +The commander turned his eyes from the white, impassioned face +of François and looked upon the quivering, ghastly visage of the +brother who stood beside him. The fire that glowed in the eyes of +François was missing in those of Louis. + +The grizzled Prussian smiled, but imperceptibly. What he saw +pleased him. Louis, the big one, the older of the two, trembled. +It was only by the supremest effort that he maintained a pitiable +show of defiance. His face was haggard and blanched with fear; +there was a hunted, shifty look in his narrowed eyes. The general's +smile developed. It proffered comfort, consolation, encouragement. + +"And you," he said, almost gently, "have not you profited by the +reflections of your three days of grace? Are you as stubborn as +this mule of a brother, this foolish lad who spouts even poorer +French than I address to you?" + +François shot a quick, appealing glance at his big brother's face. +There were tiny rivulets of slaver at the corners of Louis's mouth. + +"Louis!" he cried out sharply. + +Louis lifted his sagging shoulders. "I have nothing to say," he +said thickly, and with the set of his jaws François breathed deeply +of relief. + +"So!" said the general, shrugging his shoulders. "I am sorry. You +are young to die, you two. To die on the field of battle,--ah, +that is noble! To die with one's back to a wall, blindfolded, and +to be covered with earth so loosely that starving dogs may scratch +away to feast--But, no more. You have decided. You have had many +hours in which to consider the alternative. You will be shot at +daybreak." + +The slight figure of François straightened, his chin went up. His +thin, dirt-covered hands were tightly clenched. + +"For France!" he murmured, lifting his eyes above the head of the +Prussian. + +A vast shudder swept over the figure of Louis, a hoarse gasp broke +through his lips. The commander leaned forward, fixing him with +compelling eyes. + +"For France!" cried François again, and once more Louis lifted his +head to quaver: + +"For France!" + +"Take them away," said the commander. "But stay! How old are +you?" He addressed François. + +"I am nineteen." + +"And you?" + +Louis's lips moved but no sound issued. + +"My brother is twenty-one," said François, staring hard at Louis. + +"He has a sweetheart who will grieve bitterly if he does not +return for her caresses, eh? I thought so. Oh, you French! But +she will soon recover. She will find another,--like that! So!" +He snapped his fingers. "She will not wait long, my good Louis. +Take them away!" + +Louis's face was livid. His chin trembled, his lips fell apart +slackly; he lowered his eyes after an instant's contact with the +staunch gaze of his brother. + +"You have until sunrise to change your minds," said the Prussian, +turning on his heel. + +"Sunrise," muttered Louis, his head twitching. + +They were led from the walled-in garden and across the cobblestones +of the little street that terminated in a cul de sac just above. +Over the way stood the shattered remnants of a building that once +had been pointed to with pride by the simple villagers as the finest +shop in town. The day was hot. Worn-out German troopers sprawled +in the shade of the walls, sound asleep, their mouths ajar,--beardless +boys, most of them. + +"Poor devils," said François, as he passed among them. He too was +very young. + +They were shoved through the wrecked doorway into the mortar-strewn +ruin, and, stumbling over masses of débris, came to the stone steps +that led to the cellar below. Louis drew back with a groan. He +had spent centuries in that foul pit. + +"Not there--again!" he moaned. He was whimpering feebly as he +picked himself up at the bottom of the steps a moment later. + +"Dogs!" cried François, glaring upward and shaking his fist at the +heads projecting into the turquoise aperture above. Far on high, +where the roof had been, gleamed the brilliant sky. "Our general +will make you pay one of these days,--our GREAT general!" + +Then he threw his arms about his brother's shoulders and--cried a +little too,--no in fear but in sympathy. + +The trap door dropped into place, a heavy object fell upon it with +a thud, and they were in inky darkness. There was no sound save +the sobs of the two boys, and later the steady tread of a man who +paced the floor overhead,--a man who carried a gun. + +They had not seen, but they knew that a dead man lay over in the +corner near a window chocked by a hundred tons of brick and mortar. +He had died some time during the second century of their joint +occupance of the black and must hole. On the 28th he had come in +with them, wounded. It was now the 31st, and he was dead, having +lived to the age of nine score years and ten! When they spoke to +their guards at the beginning of the third century, saying that +their companion was dead and should be carried away, the Germans +replied: + +"There is time enough for that," and laughed,--for the Germans +could count the time by hours out there in the sunshine. But that +is not why they laughed. + +A hidden French battery in the wooded, rocky hills off to the +west had for days kept up a deadly, unerring fire upon the German +positions. Shift as he would, the commander could not escape the +shells from those unseen, undiscovered guns. They followed him +with uncanny precision. His own batteries had searched in vain, +with thousands of shrieking shells, for the gadfly gunners. They +could find him, but he could not find them. For every shell he +wasted, they returned one that counted. + +Three French scouts fell into his hands on the night of the 28th. +Two of them were still alive. He had them up before him at once. + +"On one condition will I spare your lives," said he. And that +condition had been pounded into their ears with unceasing violence, +day and night, by officers high and low, since the hour of their +capture. It was a very simple condition, declared the Germans. +Only a stubborn fool would fail to take advantage of the opportunity +offered. The exact position of that mysterious battery,--that +was all the general demanded in return for his goodness in sparing +their lives. He asked no more of them than a few, truthful words. + +They had steadfastly refused to betray their countrymen. + +François could not see his brother, but now and then he put out a +timid hand to touch the shaking figure. He could not understand. +Why was it not the other way about? Who was he to offer consolation +to the big and strong? + +"Courage," he would say, and then stare hard ahead into the blackness. +"You are great and strong," he would add. "It is I who am weak +and little, Louis. I am the little brother." + +"You have not so much to live for as I," Louis would mutter, over +and over again. + +Their hour drew near. "Eat this," persuaded François, pressing +upon Louis the hunk of bread their captors had tossed down to them. + +"Eat? God! How can I eat?" + +"Then drink. It is not cold, but--" + +"Let me alone! Keep away from me! God in heaven, why do they +leave that Jean Picard down here with us--" + +"You have seen hundreds of dead men, Louis. All of them were +heroes. All of them were brave. It was glorious to die as they +died. Why should we be afraid of death?" + +"But they died like men, not like rats. They died smiling. They +had no time to think." + +And then he fell to moaning. His teeth rattled. He turned upon +his face and for many minutes beat upon the stone steps with his +clenched hands, choking out appeals to his Maker. + +François stood. His hot, unblinking eyes tried to pierce the darkness. +Tears of shame and pity for this big brother burnt their way out +and ran down his cheeks. He was wondering. He was striving to +put away the horrid doubt that was searing his soul: the doubt of +Louis! + +The dreary age wore on. Louis slept! The little brother sat with +his chin in his hands, his heart cold, his eyes closed. He prayed. + +Then came the sound of the heavy object being dragged away from +the door at the top of the steps. They both sprang to their feet. +An oblong patch of drab, gray light appeared overhead. Sunrise! + +"Come! It is time," called down a hoarse voice. Three guns hung +over the edge of the opening. They were taking no chances. + +"Louis!" cried François sharply. + +Louis straightened his gaunt figure. The light from above fell +upon his face. It was white,--deathly white,--but transfigured. +A great light flamed in his eyes. + +"Have no fear, little brother," he said gently, caressingly. He +clasped his brother's hand. "We die together. I have dreamed. +A vision came to me,--came down from heaven. My dream was of our +mother. She came to me and spoke. So! I shall die without fear. +Come! Courage, little François. We are her soldier boys. She +gave us to France. She spoke to me. I am not afraid." + +Glorified, rejoicing, almost unbelieving, François followed his +brother up the steps, there was comfort in the grip of Louis's +hand. + +"This general of yours," began Louis, facing the guard, a sneer on +his colorless lips, his teeth showing, "he is a dog! I shall say +as much to him when the guns are pointed at my breast." + +The Germans stared. + +"What has come over this one?" growled one of them. "Last night +he was breaking." + +"There is still a way to break him," said another, grinning. "Hell +will be a relief to him after this hour." + +"Canailès!" snarled Louis, and François laughed aloud in sheer joy! + +"My good,--my strong brother!" he cried out. + +"This Papa Joffre of yours," said the burliest German,--"he is +worse than a dog. He is a toad." He shoved the captives through +the opening in the wall. "Get on!" + +"The smallest sergeant in Germany is greater than your Papa Joffre," +said another. "What is it you have said, baby Frenchman? One +frog-eater is worth five Germans? Ho-ho! You shall see." + +"I--I myself," cried François hotly,--"I am nobler, braver, greater +than this beast you call master." + +"Hold your tongue," said a third German, in a kindlier tone than +the others had employed. "It can do you no good to talk like this. +Give in, my brave lads. Tell everything. I know what is before +you if you refuse to-day,--and I tremble. He will surely break +you to-day." + +They were crossing the narrow road. + +"He is your master,--not ours," said François calmly. + +Louis walked ahead, erect, his jaw set. The blood leaped in +François' veins. Ah, what a brave, strong fellow his brother was! + +"He is the greatest commander in all the German armies," boasted +the burly sergeant. "And, young frog-eater, he commands the finest +troops in the world. Do you know that there are ten thousand iron +crosses in this God-appointed corps! Have a care how you speak +of our general. He is the Emperor's right hand. He is the chosen +man of the Emperor." + +"And of God," added another. + +"Bah!" cried François, snapping his fingers scornfully. "His is +worth no more than that to me!" + +François was going to his death. His chest swelled. + +"You fool. He is to the Emperor worth more than an entire army +corps,--yes, two of them. The Emperor would sooner lose a hundred +thousand men than this single general." + +"A hundred thousand men?" cried François, incredulously. "That is +a great many men,--even Germans." + +"Pigs," said Louis, between his teeth. + +They now entered the little garden. The Prussian commander was +eating his breakfast in the shelter of a tent. The day was young, +yet the sun was hot. Papers and maps were strewn over the top of +the long table at which he sat, gorging himself. The guard and +the two prisoners halted a few paces away. The general's breakfast +was not to be interrupted by anything so trivial as the affairs of +Louis and François. + +"And that ugly glutton is worth more than a hundred thousand men," +mused François, eyeing him in wonder. "God, how cheap these boches +must be." + +Staff officers stood outside the tent, awaiting and receiving +gruff orders from their superior. Between gulps he gave out almost +unintelligible sounds, and one by one these officers, interpreting +them as commands, saluted and withdrew. + +François gazed as one fascinated. He WAS a great general, after +all. Only a very great and powerful general could enjoy such +respect, such servile obedience as he was receiving from these +hulking brutes of men. + +Directions were punctuated,--or rather indicated,--by the huge +carving-knife with which the general slashed his meat. He pointed +suddenly with the knife, and, as he did so, the officer at whom +it was leveled, sprang into action, to do as he was bidden, as if +the shining blade had touched his quivering flesh. + +Suddenly the great general pushed his bench back from the table, +slammed the knife and fork down among the platters, and barked: + +"Well!" + +His eyes were fastened upon the prisoners. The guards shoved them +forward. + +"Have you decided? What is it to be,--life or death?" + +He was in an evil humor. That battery in the hills had found its +mark again when the sun was on the rise. + +"Vive la France!" shouted Louis, raising his eye to heaven. + +"vive la France!" almost screamed François. + +"So be it!" roared the commander. His gaze was fixed on Louis. +There was the one who would weaken. Not that little devil of a +boy beside him. He uttered a short, sharp command to an aide. + +The torturing of Louis began.... + +"End it!" commanded the Prussian general after a while. "The fool +will not speak!" + +And the little of life that was left to the shuddering, sightless +Louis went out with a sigh--slipped out with the bayonet as it was +withdrawn from his loyal breast. + +Turning to François, who had been forced to witness the mutilation +of his brother,--whose arms had been held and whose eyelids were +drawn up by the cruel fingers of a soldier who stood behind him,--he +said: + +"Now YOU! You have seen what happened to him! It is your turn +now. I was mistaken. I thought that he was the coward. Are you +prepared to go through even more than--Ah! Good! I thought so! +The little fire-eater weakens!" + +François, shaken and near to dying of the horror he had witnessed, +sagged to his knees. They dragged him forward,--and one of them +kicked him. + +"I will tell! I will tell!" he screamed. "Let me alone! Keep +your hands off of me! I will tell, God help me, general!" + +He staggered, white-faced and pitiful, to the edge of the table, +which he grasped with trembling, straining hands. + +"Be quick about it," snarled the general, leaning forward eagerly. + +Like a cat, François sprang. He had gauged the distance well. He +had figured it all out as he stood by and watched his brother die. + +His fingers clutched the knife. + +"I will!" he cried out in an ecstasy of joy. + +To the hasp sank the long blade into the heart of the Prussian +commander. + +Whirling, the French boy threw his arms on high and screamed into +the faces of the stupefied soldiers: + +"Vive la France! One hundred thousand men! There they lie! Ha-ha! +I--I, François Dupré,--I have sent them all to hell! Wait for me, +Louis! I am coming!" + +The first words of the "Marseillaise" were bursting from his lips +when his uplifted face was blasted-- + +He crumpled up and fell. + +[signed] George Barr McCutcheon + + + + + +Sonnet + + + + +Thou art not lovelier than lilacs,--no, +Nor honeysuckle,--thou art not more fair +Than small white single poppies,--I can bear +Thy beauty; though I bend before thee, though +From left to right, not knowing where to go, +I turn my troubled eyes, nor here nor there +Find any refuge from thee, yet I swear +So has it been with mist,--with moonlight so. + +Like him who day by day unto his draught +Of delicate poison adds him one drop more +Till he may drink unharmed the death of ten, +Even so, inured to beauty, who have quaffed +Each hour more deeply than the hour before, +I drink,--and live--what has destroyed some men. + +[signed] Edna St. Vincent Millay + + + + + +The Idiot + + + + +I + + +The change was not affected without whispering. The spirit both +of the troops who were going back of the lines to rest and of those +who had zigzagged up through two miles of communication trenches +to take their places was excellent. + +"What is the name of this country?" asked one of the new comers. + +"If it had a name, that is all that remains. We are somewhere in +Picardy. The English are off there not very far. Their cannon +have different voices from ours. Good Luck!" + +His gray, faded uniform seemed to melt into the night. The New +Comer stepped on to the firing platform and poked his head over +the parapet. A comrade pulled at his trousers leg. + +"Come down, Idiot," he said, "Fritz is only twelve yards away." + +The Idiot came down, sniffing the night air luxuriously. + +"We are somewhere in Picardy," he said. "I know without being +told. It is like going home." + +A sergeant approached, his body twisted sideways because the trench +was too narrow for his shoulders. + +"Have you a watch?" + +The Idiot had. + +Under his coat, so that the enemy should not perceive the glow, +the sergeant flashed his electric torch and compared the watches. + +"Yours leads by a minute," he said. "The advance will be at four +o'clock. there will be hot coffee at three. Good luck." + +He passed on, and the comrades drew a little closer together. The +sergeant's words had made the Idiot very happy. + +"In less than two hours!" he said. + +"I thought there was something in the wind," said Paul Guitry. + +"If we advanced only three kilometers," said the Idiot, "the village +in which I was born would be French again. But there will be great +changes." + +"You were born at Champ-de-Fer?" + +"It is directly opposite us." + +"You cannot know that." + +"I feel it," said the Idiot. "Wherever I have been stationed I have +felt it. Sometimes I have asked an officer to look for Champ-de-Fer +on his field map, and when he has done so, I have pointed, and said +'Is it in that direction?' and always I have been right." + +"Did your family remain in the village?" + +"I don't know. But I think so, for from the hour of the mobilization +until now, I have not heard from them." + +"Since the hour of the mobilization," said Paul Guitry, "much water +has flowed under the bridges. I had just been married. My wife +is in Paris. I have a little son now. I saw them when I had my +eight days' leave. And it seems that again I am to be a father. +It is very wonderful." + +"I was going to be married," said the Idiot simply. + +There was a short silence. + +"If I had known," said Paul Guitry, "I would not have boasted of +my own happiness." + +"I am not the only French soldier who has not heard from his +sweetheart since the mobilization," said the Idiot. "It has been +hard," he said, "but by thinking of all the others, I have been +able to endure." + +"She remained there at Champ-de-Fer?" + +"She must have, or else she would have written to me." + +Paul Guitry could not find anything to say. + +"Soon," said the Idiot, "we shall be in Champ-de-Fer, and they will +tell me what has become of her." + +"She will tell you herself," said Paul Guitry with a heartiness +which he did not feel. The Idiot shrugged his shoulders. + +"We have loved each other," he said, "even since we were little +children. Do you know why I am called the Idiot? It is because +I do not go with women, when I have the chance. But I don't mind. +They cannot say that I am not a real man, for I have the military +medal and I have been mentioned twice in the orders of the day." + +To Paul Guitry, a confirmed sinner as opportunity offered, the +Idiot's statement contained much psychic meat. + +"It must be," he said, "that purity tempts some men, just as impurity +tempts others." + +"It is even simpler," said the Idiot; but he did not explain. And +there was a long silence. + +Now and then Paul Guitry glanced at his companion's profile, for +the night was no longer inky black. It was a simple direct young +face, not handsome, but full of dignity and kindness; the line of +the jaw had a certain sternness, and the wide and delicately molded +nostril indicated courage and daring. + +Paul Guitry thought of his wife and of his little son, of his eight +days' leave, and of its consequences. He tried to imagine how he +would feel, if for two years his wife had been in the hands of the +Germans. Without meaning to, he spoke his thought aloud: + +"Long since," he said, "I should have gone mad." + +The Idiot nodded. + +"They say," he said, "that in fifty years all this will be forgotten; +and that we French will feel friendly toward the Germans." + +He laughed softly, a laugh so cold, that Paul Guitry felt as if +ice water had suddenly been spilled on his spine. + +"Hell," he went on, "has no tortures which French men, and women, +and little children have not suffered. You say that if you had +been in my boots you must long since have gone mad? well, it is +because I have been able to think of all the others who are in my +boots that I have kept my sanity. It has not been easy. It is +not as if my imagination alone had been tortured. Just as I have +the sense that my village is there--" he pointed with his sensitive +hand, "so I have the sense of what has happened there. I KNOW that +she is alive," he concluded, "and that she would rather be dead." + +There was another silence. The Idiot's nostrils dilated and he +sniffed once or twice. + +"The coffee is coming," he said. "Listen. If I am killed in the +advance, find her, will you--Jeanne Bergère? And say what you can +to comfort her. It doesn't matter what has happened, her love for +me is like the North Star--fixed. When she knows that I am dead +she will wish to kill herself. You must prevent that. You must +show her how she can help France. Aha!--The cannon!" + +From several miles in the rear there rose suddenly a thudding percussive +cataract of sound. The earth trembled like some frightened animal +that has been driven into a corner. + +The Idiot leaped to his feet, his eyes joyously alight. + +"It is the voice of God," he cried. + +If indeed it was the voice of God, that other great voice which is +of Hell, made no answer. The German guns were unaccountably silent. + +On the stroke of four, the earth still trembling with the incessant +concussions of the guns, the French scrambled out of their trenches +and went forward. But no sudden blast of lead and iron challenged +their temerity. A few shells, but all from field pieces, fired +perfunctorily as it were, fell near them and occasionally among +them. It looked as if Fritz wasn't going to fight. + +The wire guarding the first line of German trenches had been so +torn and disrupted by the French cannon, that only here and there +an ugly strand remained to be cut. The trench was empty. + +"The Boche," said Paul Guitry, "has left nothing but his smell." + +Rumor spread swiftly through the lines. "We are not to be opposed. +Fritz has been withdrawn in the night. His lines are too long. +He is straightening out his salients. It is the beginning of the +end." + +There was good humor and elation. There was also a feeling of +admiration for the way in which Fritz had managed to retreat without +being detected. + +The country over which the troops advanced was a rolling desert, +blasted, twisted, swept clear of all vegetation. What the Germans +could not destroy they had carried away with them. There remained +only frazzled stumps of trees, dead bodies and ruined engines of +war. + +Paul Guitry and the Idiot came at last to the summit of a little +hill. Beyond and below at the end of a long sweep of tortured and +ruined fields could be seen picturesquely grouped a few walls of +houses and one bold arch of an ancient bridge. + +The Idiot blinked stupidly. Then he laughed a short, ugly laugh. + +"I had counted on seeing the church steeple. But of course they +would have destroyed that." + +"Is it Champ-de-Fer?" asked Guitry. + +At that moment a dark and sudden smoke, as from ignited chemicals +began to pour upward from the ruined village. + +"It was," said the Idiot, and once more the word was passed to go +forward. + + +II + + +They did not know what was going on in the world. They had been +ordered into the cellars of the village, and told to remain there +for twenty-four hours. They had no thought but to obey. + +Into the same cellar with Jeanne Bergère had been herded four old +women, two old men, and a little boy whom a German surgeon (the day +the champagne had been discovered buried in the Notary's garden) +had strapped to a board and--vivisected. + +Twenty-three of the twenty-four hours had passed (one of the old +men had a Waterbury watch) but only the little boy complained of +hunger and thirst. He wanted to drink from the well in the corner +of the cellar; but they would not let him. The well had supplied +good drinking water since the days of Julius Caesar, but shortly +after entering the cellar one of the old women had drunk from it, +and shortly afterward had died in great torment. The little boy +kept saying: + +"But maybe it wasn't the water which killed Madame Pigeon. Only +let me try it and then we shall know for sure." + +But they would not let him drink. + +"It is not agreeable to live," said one of the old men, "but it +is necessary. We are of those who will be called upon to testify. +The terms of peace will be written by soft-hearted statesmen; we +who have suffered must be on hand. We must be on hand to see that +the Boche gets his deserts." + +Jeanne Bergère spoke in a low unimpassioned voice: + +"What would you do to them, father," she asked, "if you were God?" + +"I do not know," said the old man. "For I have experience only +of those things which give them pleasure. Those who delight in +peculiar pleasures are perhaps immune to ordinary pains...." + +"Surely," interrupted the little boy, "it was not the water that +killed Madame Pigeon." + +"How peaceful she looks," said the old man. "You would say the +stone face of a saint from the façade of a cathedral." + +"It may be," said Jeanne Bergère, "that already God has opened His +mind to her, and that she knows of that vengeance, which we with +our small minds are not able to invent." + +"I can only think of what they have done to us," said the old man. +"It does not seem as if there was anything left for us to do to +them. Vengeance which does not give the Avenger pleasure is a poor +sort of vengeance. Madame Simon..." + +The old woman in question turned a pair of sheeny eyes towards the +speaker. + +"Would it give you any particular pleasure to cut the breasts off +an old German woman?" + +With a trembling hand Madame Simon flattened the bosom of her dress +to show that there was nothing beneath. + +"It would give me no pleasure," she said, "but I shall show my +scars to the President." + +"An eye for an eye--a tooth for a tooth," said the old man. "That +is the ancient law. But it does not work. There is no justice in +exchanging a German eye and a French. French eyes see beauty in +everything. To the German eye the sense of beauty has been denied. +You cannot compare a beast and a man. In the old days, when there +were wolves, it was the custom of the naive people of those days +to torture a wolf if they caught one. They put him to death with +the same refinements which were requisitioned for human criminals. +This meant nothing to the wolf. The mere fact that he had been +caught was what tortured him. And so I think it will be with the +Germans when they find that they have failed. They have built +up their power on the absurd hypothesis that they are men. Their +punishment will be in discovering that they never were anything +but low animals and never could be." + +"That is too deep for me," said the other man. "They tied my +daughter to her bed, and afterward they set fire to her mattress." + +"I wish," said Jeanne Bergère, "that they had set fire to my +mattress." + +A violent concussion shook the cellar to its foundations. Even +the face of the thirsty little boy brightened. + +"It is one of ours," he said. + +"To eradicate the lice which feed upon the Germans and the foul +smells which emanate from their bodies there is nothing so effective +as high explosives," said the old man. He looked at his watch and +said: + +"We have half an hour more." + +At the end of that time, he climbed the cellar stair, pushed open +the door, and looked out. Partly in the bright sunlight and partly +in the deep shadows, he resembled a painting by Rembrandt. + +"I see no one," he said. "There is a lot of smoke." + +His eyes became suddenly wide open, fixed, round with a kind of +celestial astonishment. This his old French heart stopped beating, +and he fell to the foot of the stair. His companions thought that +he must have been shot. They dared not move. + +But it was no bullet or fragment of far-blown shell that had laid +the old man low. He had seen in the smoke that whirled down the +village street, a little soldier in the uniform of France. Pure +unadulterated joy had struck him dead. + +Five minutes passed, and no one had moved except the little boy. +With furtive glances and trembling hands he had crept to the old +well in the corner and drunk a cup of the poisoned water. Then he +crept back to his place. + +The second old man now rose, drew a deep breath and climbed +the cellar stair. For a time he stood blinking, and mouthing his +scattered teeth. He was trying to speak and could not. + +"What is it?" they called up to him. "What has happened?" + +He did not answer. He made inarticulate sounds, and suddenly with +incredible speed, darted forward into the smoke and the sunlight. + +A little hand cold and wet crept into Jeanne Bergère's. She was +vexed. She wished to go out of the cellar with the others; but the +little hand clung to her so tightly that she could not free herself. + +Except for the old woman who had drunk from the well, and the old +man, all in a heap at the foot of the cellar stair, they were alone. +She and the little boy. + +"It is true," said the little boy, "at least I think it is true +about the water...when...nobody was looking.... Please, please +stay with me, Jeanne Bergère." + +"You drank when it was forbidden? That was very naughty, Charlie.... +Good God, what am I saying--you poor baby--you poor baby." She +snatched him into her arms, and held him with a kind of tigerish +ferocity. + +"It hurts," said Charlie. "It hurts. It hurts me all over. It +hurts worse all the time." + +"I will go for help," she said. "Wait." + +"Please do not go away." + +"You want to die?" + +The child nodded. + +"If I grow up, I should not be a man," he said. "You know what +the doctor did to me?" + +"I know," she said briefly, "but you shan't die if I can help it." + +She could not help it. A few minutes after she had gone, his back +strongly arched became rigid. His jaws locked and he died in the +attitude of a wrestler making a bridge. + +The village street was full of smoke and Frenchmen. These were +methodically fighting the fires and hunting the ruins for Germans. +Jeanne Bergère seized one of the little soldiers by the elbow. + +"Come quickly," she said, "there is a child poisoned!" + +The Idiot turned, and she would have fallen if he had not caught +her. She tore herself loose from his arms with a kind of ferocity. + +"Come! Come!" she cried, and she ran like a frightened animal back +to the cellar door, the Idiot close behind her. + +The Idiot knelt by the dead child, and after feeling in vain for +any pulsation, straightened up and said: + +"He is dead." + +"He drank from the well," said Jeanne. "We told him that it was +poisoned. But he was so thirsty." + +They tried to straighten the little boy, but could not. The Idiot +rose to his feet, and looked at her for the first time. He must +have made some motion with his hands, for she cried suddenly: + +"Don't! You mustn't touch me!" + +"We have always loved each other," he said simply. + +"You don't understand." + +"What have you been through? I understand. Kiss me." + +She held him at arm's length. + +"Listen," she said. "The old people would not leave the village,--your +father and mother...so I stayed. At that time it was still supposed +that the Germans were human beings..." + +"And my father and mother?" asked the Idiot. + +"Some of the people went into the street to see the Germans enter +the village. But we watched from a window in your father's house.... +They were Uhlans, who came first. They were so drunk that they +could hardly sit on their horses. Their lieutenant took a sudden +fancy to Marie Lebrun, but when he tried to kiss her, she slapped +his face.... That seemed to sober him.... Old man Lebrun had +leapt forward to protect his daughter. + +"'Are you her father?'" asked the Lieutenant. + +"'Yes,'" said the old man. + +"'Bind him,'" said the lieutenant, and then he gave an order and +some men went into the house and came out dragging a mattress.... +They dragged it into the middle of the street.... They held old +man Lebrun so that he had to see everything...for some hours, as +many as wanted to.... Then the lieutenant stepped forward and shot +her through the head, and then he shot her father.... Your father +and mother hid me in the cellar of their house, as well as they +could.... But from the Germans nothing remains long hidden.... +Your father and mother tried to defend me...tied them to their +bed...and...set fire to the house." + +The Idiot's granite-gray face showed no new emotion. + +"And you?" + +She shook her head violently. + +"What you cannot imagine," she said. "I have forgotten.... There +have been so many.... No street-walker has ever been through what +I have been through.... There's nothing more to say...I wanted to +live...to bear witness against them.... For you and me everything +is finished..." + +"Almost," said the Idiot. "You talk as if you no longer loved me." + +The granite-gray of his face had softened into the ruddy, sun-burned +coloring of a healthy young soldier, long in the field, and she +could not resist the strong arms that he opened to her. + +"They have not touched your soul," said the Idiot. + +[signed] Gouverneur Morris + + + + + +Memories of Whitman and Lincoln + + + + +"When lilacs last in the dooryard bloom'd" --W. W. + + +Lilacs shall bloom for Walt Whitman +And lilacs for Abraham Lincoln. +Spring hangs in the dew of the dooryards +These memories--these memories-- +They hang in the dew for the bard who fetched +A sprig of them once for his brother +When he lay cold and dead.... +And forever now when America leans in the dooryard +And over the hills Spring dances, +Smell of lilacs and sight of lilacs shall bring to her heart these brothers.... +Lilacs shall bloom for Walt Whitman +And lilacs for Abraham Lincoln. + +Who are the shadow-forms crowding the night? +What shadows of men? +The stilled star-night is high with these brooding spirits-- +Their shoulders rise on the Earth-rim, and they are great presences in heaven-- +They move through the stars like outlined winds in young-leaved maples. +Lilacs bloom for Walt Whitman +And lilacs for Abraham Lincoln. + +Deeply the nation throbs with a world's anguish-- +But it sleeps, and I on the housetops +Commune with souls long dead who guard our land at midnight, +A strength in each hushed heart-- +I seem to hear the Atlantic moaning on our shores with the plaint of the dying +And rolling on our shores with the rumble of battle.... +I seem to see my country growing golden toward California, +And, as fields of daisies, a people, with slumbering up-turned faces +Leaned over by Two Brothers, +And the greatness that is gone. + +Lilacs bloom for Walt Whitman +And lilacs for Abraham Lincoln. + +Spring runs over the land, +A young girl, light-footed, eager... +For I hear a song that is faint and sweet with first love, +Out of the West, fresh with the grass and the timber, +But dreamily soothing the sleepers... +I listen: I drink it deep. + +Softly the Spring sings, +Softly and clearly: +"I open lilacs for the beloved, +Lilacs for the lost, the dead. +And, see, for the living, I bring sweet strawberry blossoms, +And I bring buttercups, and I bring to the woods anemones and blue bells... +I open lilacs for the beloved, +And when my fluttering garment drifts through dusty cities, +And blows on hills, and brushes the inland sea, +Over you, sleepers, over you, tired sleepers, +A fragrant memory falls... +I open love in the shut heart, +I open lilacs for the beloved." + +Lilacs bloom for Walt Whitman +And lilacs for Abraham Lincoln. + +Was that the Spring that sang, opening locked hearts, +And is remembrance mine? +For I know these two great shadows in the spacious night, +Shadows folding America close between them, +Close to the heart... +And I know how my own lost youth grew up blessedly in their spirit, +And how the morning song of the might bard +Sent me out from my dreams to the living America, +To the chanting seas, to the piney hills, down the railroad vistas, +Out into the streets of Manhattan when the whistles blew at seven, +Down to the mills of Pittsburgh and the rude faces of labor... +And I know how the grave great music of that other, +Music in which lost armies sang requiems, +And the vision of that gaunt, that great and solemn figure, +And the graven face, the deep eyes, the mouth, +O human-hearted brother, +Dedicated anew my undevoted heart +to America, my land. + +Lilacs bloom for Walt Whitman +And lilacs for Abraham Lincoln. + +Now in this hour I was suppliant for these two brothers, +And I said: Your land has need: +Half-awakened and blindly we grope in the great world.... +What strength may we take from our Past, What promise hold for our future? + +And the one brother leaned and whispered: +"I put my strength in a book, +And in that book my love... +This, with my love, I give to America..." +And the other brother leaned and murmured: + "I put my strength in a life, + And in that life my love, + This, with my love, I give to America." + +Lilacs bloom for Walt Whitman +And lilacs for Abraham Lincoln. + +Then my heart sang out: This strength shall be our strength: +Yea, when the great hour comes, and the sleepers wake and are hurled back, +And creep down into themselves +There shall they find Walt Whitman +And there, Abraham Lincoln. + +O Spring, go over this land with much singing +And open the lilacs everywhere, +Open them out with the old-time fragrance +Making a people remember that something has been forgotten, +Something is hidden deep--strange memories--strange memories-- +Of him that brought a sprig of the purple cluster +To him that was mourned of all... +And so they are linked together +While yet America lives... +While yet America lives, my heart, +Lilacs shall bloom for Walt Whitman +And lilacs for Abraham Lincoln. + +[signed] James Oppenheim + + + + + +Bred to the Sea + + + + +Ye who are bred to the sea, sons of the sons of seamen, + In what faith do ye sail? By what creed do ye hold? +Little we know of faiths, and we leave the creeds to the parsons. + But we 'bide by the law of the sea which our father made of old. + +Where is that sea law writ for mariners and for captains, + That they may know the law by which they sail the sea? +We never saw it writ for sailormen or for masters; + But 'tis laid with the keel of the ship. What would you have? + Let be. + +Ye who went down tot he sea in ships and perished aforetime, + In what faith did ye sail? In what creed did ye die? +What is that law to which your lives were forfeit? + What do ye teach your sons that they may not deny? + +We kept the faith of our breed. We died in the creed of seamen, + As our sons, too, shall die: the sea will have its way. +The law which bade us sail with death in smack and whaler, + In tall ship and in open boat, is the seaman's law to-day. + +The master shall rule his crew. The crew shall obey the master. + Ye shall work your ship while she fleets and ye can stand. +Though ye starve, and freeze, and drown, shipmate shall stand + by shipmate. + Ye shall 'bide by this law of seafaring folk, though ye never + come to land. + +Ye shall hold your lives in trust for those who need your succor: + A flash of fire by night, a loom of smoke by day, +A rag to an oar shall be to you the symbol + Of your faith, of your creed, of the law which sailormen obey. + +Ye shall not count the odds, ye shall not weigh the danger, + When life is to be saved from storm, from fire, from thirst. +Ye shall not leave your foe adrift and helpless; + And when the boats go overside, 't is, "Women and children + first." + +We kept this faith of our breed. We died in this creed of seamen. + We sealed our creed with our lives. It shall endure alway. +The law which bade us sail with death in smack and whaler, + In tall ship and in open boat, is the seaman's law to-day. + +[signed] James W. Pryor. + + + + + +Our Defenders + +Across the fields of waving wheat + And leagues of golden corn +The fragrance of the wild-rose bloom + And elder-flower is borne; +But earth's appealing loveliness + We do but half surmise, +For oh, the blur of battle-fields + Is ever in our eyes. + +The robin-red-breast and the wren, + We cannot harken these +For dreadful thunder of the guns + That echoes overseas; +And evermore our vision turns + To those who follow far +The bright white light of Liberty + Through the red fires of war. + +Our thoughts are with the hero souls + And hero hearts of gold +Who keep Old Glory's hallowed stars + Untarnished as of old; +Who join their hands with hero hands + In hero lands to save +The fearless forehead of the free + The shameful brand of slave. + +And through these days of strife and death, + We know they shall not fail, +That Freedom shall not pass from earth + Nor tyranny prevail; +Yea, those that now in anguish bow, + We know that soon or late +They shall be lifted from beneath + The iron heel of hate. + +O brave defenders of the free, + For you our tears of pride! +Lo, every drop of blood you shed + Our hearts have sanctified! +And through these days of strife and death, + These weary night-times through, +Our spirits watch with yours, our love + It hovers over you. + +[signed] Evaleen Stein + + + + + +The Bomb + + + + +I + + +"You are late. Billy's been howling the house down." + +"All babies cry, big or little, now and then. The nurse is with +Billy. I--" Nellie Cameron paused to smooth a quiver out of her +voice--"I am not late." + +"You are not?" Joseph Cameron, bewildered, laid his paper upon his +knees and squinted up at his wife. + +"No, Joe, I am not." As if it absorbed her, and no one could +have said that it did not, for she kept house beautifully, Nellie +straightened an etching; the quietly she walked out of the room. + +She went into their bedroom and closed the door. After a while +Cameron, watching warily, saw her come into the hall again in a +peach-colored dress that he particularly liked her in; saw her go +down the hall, away from him--and she had a very good back--to the +nursery door, the warm, cheerful firelight falling full upon her +face, her hands, her softly glowing dress. Billy, their only son, +just learning to walk, toddled to meet her. Cameron saw the chubby +hands rumple her skirts, saw Nellie stoop and swing him high with +her firm arms, the drop him to his place upon her breast. The +door close, the hall was shadowy again, the apartment as still as +a place marked "To Let." + +The dinner was on time and excellent; Nellie, decorative and +chatty, was promptly in her place. Dinner over, they went to the +sitting-room for their coffee. The apartment was very high up, the +windows looking over the tree-tops of the Drive, across the Hudson +tot he Jersey shore. It was March, and the shore lights wavered +in gusts of rain that threatened to turn to snow. The room was +warm; Cameron was suffocating; Nellie was serenely unaware. She +had eaten well, from her soup through her cheese. There are times +when, to a man, a woman's appetite is the last straw. She was +tired, she said, but at her ease, and never prettier. + +"Going out to-night, Joey?" + +"Yes. Bridge hand around at Gordon's. Want a talk with Gordon +about a matter of business." + +"I like to have things to do in the afternoon, but when night +comes"--Nellie smothered a contented yawn--"I love getting into +something comfy, and just buzzing round our own lamp." + +"I must own that I have never found afternoon diversions to be +diverting." To save him he could not keep his voice good-natured. +He had had a grind of a day, and was dog-tired; it seemed to him +she ought to know it and talk about it. + +"Yes?" Nellie mused. "It was amusing at the club to-day--the +Non-descripts." She laughed softly. "It wasn't 'nondescript' +to-day, though!" + +"Some old maid telling you to bring your children up on the country, +and throw your husbands out of their jobs?" + +"What, Joey?" Nellie seemed to bring her thoughts back from a long +way off. "Old maid? I should say not! We had a man. We nearly +always do. Then everybody comes, and there's more glow. He was an +English socialist--I guess he was a socialist. Burne-Jones hair, +and a homespun jacket,--loose, and all that,--and a heavy ribbon +on his glasses. He talked about the new man." + +"The--what?" + +"The new man." Nellie opened her eyes wide, as if her husband +puzzled her. + +"Well--I'm damned!" + +Nellie broke into sudden mirth. + +"You were, Joey dear; that is just what you were. You were damned +all the way there and back again." + +Cameron strangled. + +"Have I the honor to typify the--new creature?" + +"You're the very image of him, Joey dear." And she smiled upon +him as if he were some new moth, in at their window, to buzz round +their lamp. + +"And--this person--?" + +Nellie became eagerly communicative. + +"I do wonder if I can make you see him? Tall and dark, and with +good-looking, thinnish hands and almost amusing way of playing +with his eye-glasses. You know, Joey: the sort of distinguished +talk-it-all-out sort of man that just makes men rage. Of course," +she went on, largely wise, "he's the sort of socialist to make a +real socialist rage, but he's just the thing for clubs." + +"You often have them?" + +"Of course," she laughed. "You see, we don't see much of men at +home any more. It keeps us from forgetting how you look, and how +amusing you may be." + +Cameron gazed before him into a chaos without words. + +Nellie was oblivious. + +"He finished off with a perfect bomb, Joey. It was funny! Of +course the new man's a city product, and he drew him to the life: +rushed and tortured by ambition, tired out at the end of the day, +too tired to be possibly amusing, his nerves excited till anything +quieter than lower Broadway hurts his ears, all passion and +brilliance spent on business, dinners here and there, with people +who all have their ax to grind, too, and are keyed up to it by +rows and rows of cocktails. He drew him without mercy, and he had +every wife there either wincing or laughing, with the truth of what +he said. He was quite eloquent." She paused, she laughed softly, +she turned her eyes upon him. "Then, Joey, guess--just guess!--what +he said!" + +"Far be it from me!" + +"He said that any intelligent modern woman would require at +least one husband and three lovers to arrive at the standards and +companionship of one wholesome old-fashioned man!" + +Cameron got to his feet and held to the top shelf of the bookcase. + +"Do you mean to tell me that respectable women sit and listen to +such talk?" + +"But, Joey dear, you see so little of us respectable women now, +you don't really know us--" + +"It's not decent--" + +Nelly was all patience. + +"But, you know, Joey dear, I think maybe it is true. Don't you +think so?" + +Cameron swallowed two or three retorts; then with a laugh that seemed +to break to pieces in the air, he went into he hall, got into his +hat and coat, and left the house. + +Nellie listened gravely. + +"Poor dear old land-lubber!" she sighed. "But it had to come sooner +or later!" Then she went to the telephone. + +"57900 Bryant, please. May I speak to Mr. Crane?" + + +II + + +When Cameron came in at midnight he found his wife and his old +friend Willoughby Crane playing chess in the dining room. + +"Hello, Joe, old man," murmured Crane. "That you?" + +"Why, yes, I believe it is I," said Cameron. + +"Almost forgot what you looked like," Crane rambled pleasantly. +"Dropped in for a reminder." + +"I'm sorry to have missed you," muttered Cameron. + +"Well, you haven't altogether missed me, you know: so cheer up, +old man. If Nell's good for a rubber, you may have the joy of my +presence for an hour or two longer. You're lucky, having a wife +who can play chess!" + +"Get yourself a drink, Joey," suggested Nellie. "The whisky's in +the sideboard, down on he left." + +"Don't you suppose I know where the whisky is?" demanded Cameron. + +"Maybe there's not much left." Nellie looked on, all solicitude. + +Cameron, his thought babbling over the good old days of the +ducking-stool, poured himself carefully a highball that was brown. +Silence reigned. The light fell upon the head and shoulders of +Crane and his long, quick-fingered hands. + +"After a man has slaved his soul out," Cameron moaned, "these are +the things a woman cares about!" + +Crane won the rubber, and spent considerable gallantry upon Nellie +in compensation. Cameron had yawned all through, but no one had +noticed. Crane lighted a cigarette and perched upon the corner of +the dining-table. + +"I say, Joe, got anything on to-morrow night?" + +"I have," said Cameron. + +"Something you can't chuck?" + +"Scarcely. A director's dinner." + +Crane grew thoughtful. + +"You certainly are a victim of the power-passion," he sighed, +considering Cameron. "I don't know how you stand it. I'd have +more money, no doubt, if I weren't so apathetic, but, by Jinks, it +doesn't look worth it to me!" + +"A question of taste," said Cameron briefly. + +"Taste? If that were all!" He smoked, looking at Nellie through +the haze. "I say, Nell, I've got tickets for Kreisler to-morrow +night. Come with me, there's a good girl! Lend me your wife, will +you, Joe?" + +"Lend?" echoed Nellie. "I like that! Anybody'd take me for goods +and chattels. Of course I'll come. I'd love to." + +"You know, Joey," Crane went on simply, "Nellie's the only woman I +know that it's real joy to hear music with. She knows what she's +listening to. A fellow can sort of forget that he's got her +along, an still be glad he has. As for you, you old money-hunting +blunderbuss, the way you squirm in the presence of music ought to +be a penitentiary offense. I'm almost glad you can't go." He gave +a laugh that was dangerously genuine, and bolted for the hall to +get his coat and hat. + +"Poor old Joe is almost asleep," said Nellie, sweetly. + +Joe did not look it, but Willoughby got out solicitously, and he +sat upon a damp bench opposite Cameron's glowing windows, and he +laughed and laughed till a policeman sternly ordered him to move +on. + +"Isn't Willoughby a dear!" Nellie commented as she moved about, +putting things in their places for the night. Cameron yawned +obviously. Nellie hummed a snatch of a tune. + +All that long night Cameron lay stretched upon the edge of their +bed, staring into the lumpy darkness. Nellie slept like a baby. +But once, soon after the lights were turned off, Cameron's blood +froze by inches from his head to his feet. It seemed to him that +Nellie was laughing, was fairly biting her pillow to keep from +laughing aloud! Gravely, of the darkness, he asked how all this had +come about. He asked it of the familiar, shadowy heap of Nellie's +clothes upon the chair by the window, asked if he had deserved it. +Toward dawn he slept. + + +III + + +Cameron, after the way of the new man, kept some evening clothes +down town. It saved traveling. The next afternoon, about four +o'clock, there came, somewhere between the pit of his stomach and +his brain, an aching weight. Conscience! At six-thirty he hung +his dinner-jacket back in the closet and sent the directors word +that he had a headache. Then, as blind as a moth, he started for +home, for that lamp about which Nellie "Loved to buzz." + +He let himself into the apartment, chuckling to think of Nellie's +surprise, at just the hour at which they were used to dining. The +place was shadowy, the table in its between-meals garb. The aching +weight came back. He tapped on the nursery door. + +Miss Merritt, the nurse, was dining by the nursery window, Billy's +high chair drawn near by. Billy, drowsy and rosy, was waving a +soup-spoon about his head, dabbing at the lights upon the silver +with fat fingers that were better at clinging than at letting go. + +"Good evening, Miss Merritt," said Cameron. "Hello, Bill! Where's +your mother?" His tone struck false, for through his mind was +booming the horrible question, "Can Nellie have gone out with that +ass Crane to dine?" + +Miss Merritt's mousy face became all eyes. + +"Why, sir, Mrs. Cameron has gone out to dinner, and after to a +concert. I guess you forgot, sir." + +"Oh, yes," said Cameron, easily. "This is the night of the concert. +I had absolutely forgotten. I'd have got a bite down town if I'd +thought. Is the cook in?" + +"Sure, sir. I'll call her." + +She left Cameron alone with Billy, who, cannibal-wise, was chewing +his father's hand and crowing over the appetizing bumps and veins. + +"If you'd jest 'ave 'phoned, sir," panted the cook, who was a large, +purple-faced person. + +Cameron sighed. + +"Just anything, Katy. I have a headache. Some eggs and toast--poached +eggs, I think." + +In another moment the maid passed the nursery door, with white +things over her arm, on her way to set the table. + +Cameron, dazed as never in his life before, lifted Billy to his +shoulder and trotted up and down the room. "Nice little boy!" he +laughed, Billy's damp fists hitting at him in ecstasy. "I'll just +take him to the sitting-room while you finish your dinner." He did +his best to pretend that the situation was not unusual, to act as +if, in his own home, a man could be nothing but at home. All these +confounded hirelings, acting as if they owned the place, had the +cheek to be amazed over his dropping in! + +Miss Merritt beamed. + +"I always say, sir, that boys should know their fathers." + +"Boys should know their fathers?" This was almost the last straw. + +"Here!" said Miss Merritt, holding out a pink-edged blanket. "Jest +put in on your lap, sir." There was about her that utter peculiar +lack of decorum that is common to nurses and mothers and Cameron, +blushing furiously, grabbed the blanket and fled. + +"Boys should know their father, hey?" Cameron was enraged. +"We'll see about that pretty quick!" Billy crowed with joy as the +blanket flapped about them, and, above the chasm of his doubts and +his conscience Cameron heard himself laugh, too. He got into his +arm-chair. Billy, so warm and solid and gay, so evidently liking +him, gave him, parent that he was, the thrill of adventure as his +hands held him and knew him for his own. The blanket spread upon +his knees, the door closed, Cameron expanded with the desire to +know his son, even as it was desirable that his son should know +him. He turned him over and around, he studied the vagaries of +scallops and pearl buttons; profoundly he pitied his small image for +all of his discomforts, and advised him to grow out of safety-pins +as fast as possible. He fell into a philosophical mood, spouting +away at Bill, and Bill responded with fists and delicious gurgles +and an imitative sense of investigation. Cameron reflected, with +illumination, upon the amusing sounds a baby makes when the world +is well. They were really having an awfully good time. + +Billy was fuzzy and blond, one of those moist, very blue-eyed +babies that women appreciate. Cameron all at once saw why. Warmth +expanded his aching heart, and his arms circled his own mite of +boy. Billy yawned, agreed instantly with Cameron that a yawn from +a baby was funny, and with a chuckle pitched against Cameron, bumped +his nose on a waistcoat button, considered the button solemnly, +with his small mouth stuck out ridiculously, and then snuggled into +the hollow of his father's arms, and, closing his big eyes with a +confidence that made thrills creep over him, the man, and brought +something stinging to his eyes, Bill went to sleep. + +After an unmeasured lapse of time, Miss Merritt came for the baby. +"Oh, the lambkin! Ain't he sweet, sir?" + +Cameron ached in every joint, but he did not know it. + +"Take care how you handle him!" he whispered. "It's awful to be +awakened out of one's first sleep!" + +"I know better than to wake a sleepin' baby, believe me," said Miss +Merritt with a touch of spice. + +The door closed. Cameron sat stretching his stiff arms and legs +and staring before him, and upon his usually tired and lined face +was the beam of full joy. + +Then came dinner, a lonely, silent mockery of a meal. And back the +question came, booming over the soft tinkling of glass and silver. +He realized, with his salad, that four nights out of seven, Nellie +dined like this, alone. His lower lip protruded, and lines of +conscience fell in a curtain on his face. + +"Mrs. Cameron hates eatin' 'lone, too," said the maid. "She generally +eats early, so 's t' have Billy in his high chair 'longside. If +he sleeps, she reads a book, sir." + +He was alone in the sitting-room with his coffee, and the place had +sunk into fathomless silence. It was only half after eight! He +stuck his head out of the window. Soft flakes touched and soothed +his feverish head. "Damn money!" he whispered suddenly, then stood +back in the room, startled, staring his blasphemy in the face. +He'd go out in the snow, and get rid of himself. This was awful! + +Bundled in a greatcoat, collar high, trousers rolled up, he ducked +out of the great marble and iron vestibule into the night. There +was no wind, and the snow was falling softly, steadily. The drive +was deserted, and he made his way across to the walk along the wall. +By the light of the lamp, blurred by the flakes till it looked like +a tall-stemmed thistle-ball, he looked at his watch. No matter +where Nellie had dined, she was a the concert by now, and a great +sigh of relief fluttered the flakes about his mouth. + +He turned north, glad of the rise in the ground to walk against. +"By jinks!" he smiled grudgingly, "it's not so bad out here. We +city idiots, we--NEW MEN, with all our motors and subways, we are +forgetting how to prowl." + +The world fell of to shadow a little beyond the shore-line, a mere +space of air and flakes. Ice swirled by its way to the sea, for +the tide was going out. He peered; he began to hear all sorts +of fine snow-muffled sounds; and suddenly, away out on the river, +something was going on--boats whistling and signaling, chatting +in their scientific persiflage, out in the dark and cold of the +night. "Lonesome, too!" Cameron laughed, and, boyishly, he tossed +a snow-ball into the space, as if he'd have something to say out +there, too! "I'm soft!" he groaned, clutching his arm. And suddenly +he smiled to think how one of these days he and Bill would come +out here and play together. He looked about, and a sudden pride +filled him. He was actually the only creature enjoying this splendid +snow! He had passed one old gentleman in a fur-lined coat, with +a cap upon his white hair, walking slowly, a white bulldog playing +after him in the scarcely trodden snow. + +Cameron turned home, a new and inexplicable glow upon him, cares +dropped away. He marched; he laughed aloud once with a sudden +thought of Bill. "Little corker!" He let himself in, and went +straight to the bedroom to change his shoes. "I must get some +water-tight things to prowl in," he thought, and he whistled a line +of "Tipperary." Blurred in a pleasant fatigue he sat on the edge +of his bed, staring at his wet socks, when the telephone jingled, +and he hurried out to answer. + +"Yep, this is Cameron. Oh, hello, old girl! Thought I'd just come +up for a quiet home dinner, you know." A grin like the setting +sun for warmth spread over his face as he listened, as he felt the +tables turning under his wet feet. + +"Nope. Just bored down-town. Felt like bein' cozy and--buzzin' +round the lamp in something comfy. Fine! Had a regular banquet! +Bill's all right, little devil! I tucked him in so he shouldn't +be lonesome. + +"Me? I've been out walkin'. Been throwin' snow-balls at the +street-lamps. My feet are soakin', but I don't care, I don't care. +Heard a concert myself, thanks. Whistles and things tootin' out +in the snow on the river to beat the band! Don't think of it! I'm +fine. Enjoy yourself. What's life for? Good night, old girl. +Don't lose your key!" + +Cameron got as far as the cedar chest in the hall, but there, in +his wet socks, he sat down and he laughed until he ached all over. +Suddenly he stiffened, and his heels banged against the chest. + +Miss Merritt, mouth and eyes wide open, stood absorbing him, as +crimson as was Cameron himself. + +"I heard the 'phone," she faltered. "Miss. Cameron always calls +up to know if Billy's all right--" + +"I know that she does," said Cameron, stiffly, and, rising, he +stocking-footed it past her and shut himself in his bedroom. + +"yes, sir; good night, sir." Miss Merritt stared at his door. "Good +Lord!" she whispered in the nursery, "how awful for Billy and her +if he takes to drink!" + +Nellie came out of the telephone booth, her face white with horror. +"Willoughby," she gasped, "get me a taxi quick!" + +"Billy--" + +"No, no, NO! It's Joe!" + +"What--" + +"Oh," she wailed, "I've gone too far! Joe is--drunk!" + +Willoughby's face went to pieces. + +"Don't look like that, Nell! Don't! What of it? Just what we've +been up to, isn't it?" + +"How can you say that? Get my wraps. I am going home." + +"Your car isn't ordered till eleven--" + +"What do I care what I go in? Oh, I have been such a fool!" + +"Don't mention it," grinned Crane as he wrapped her coat about her. + +Gaily Crane waved his white-gloved hand to her, her face gleaming +back pearl-like for an instant in the shadowy taxi; then she was +whirled northward and lost in the snowy night. Back in his place +next to Nellie's empty chair, he mused tenderly over the vagaries +of a mere bachelor till the incomparable Austrian carried his mind +off to where tone is reality, where there is neither marriage nor +giving in marriage. + + +Nellie fitted the key into the lock. Her fingers shook. The +apartment was dark except for a light in the hall, and as still +as if it were empty. If only Joe would STAY asleep till he'd had +time to sleep this horrible state of affairs away! + +She switched off the light and carefully let herself into their +room, and stood a moment, huddled, breathless, against the door. +The room was ghostly. The vague, snow-veiled light filtered in +from the street-lamp below, making of Cameron an incoherent lump, +wrapped to his eyes in the covers of their chintz-hung bed. + +Her hands clasped tight, she peered at him through the shadows. +He did not move. He was sleeping heavily, curiously, irregularly, +his breath coming in jerky little snorts. "Oh," she wailed in her +guilt heart, "he is, he is! Poor dear old Joey, drunk! And it's +all, all my fault!" Swiftly she undressed in the dark. If he were +to awaken, to begin saying awful maudlin things--- + +Her heart pounding, she lifted the covers and crept into martyrdom +on the hard edge of the bed. Cameron slept on. Once he seemed +to be strangling in a bad dream, and she fought with her sense of +duty to awaken him, then, miserably, let him strangle! + +Gravely Nellie's tired eyes traveled from familiar shadow to shadow, +to rest at last upon the dangling heap of clothes upon a chair by +the window that symbolized Joe Cameron by the sane light of day. +Fatigue tossed her off to sleep now and then; terror snatched her +back and made her cry. In the first faint dawn she awakened with +a start to find that in her sleep her tired body had slipped back +to its place, and her head was resting deliciously upon her pillow. +And, with the growing dawn, humor came creeping back, and try +as she would, her mouth twitched. Of all people, dear old Joey! +Carefully she turned her head and peered at him. His face was turned +toward her, what light there was fell full upon him. Wonder took +away her smile. His face was fresh, the lines of care and worry +softened away as if he were at the end of a two weeks' vacation. +She rested her chin on her arm, amazed, puzzled. And suddenly +a grin like the sunrise spread over Joe's face, and he opened his +eyes. + +[signed] Alice Woods + +By courtesy of "The Century." + + + + + +To Those Who Go + + + + +In a sense the hundreds of thousands of American soldiers who go +to France are modern crusaders. Like the valiant men of the Middle +Ages who traveled far to fight in strange lands for the ideal that +possessed their souls, these twentieth-century knights-errant go +to defend the ideals of liberty and right and honor which are the +issues of this war and which our Allies have successfully upheld +for more than three years. + +In that chivalric spirit General Pershing stood at the tomb +of LaFayette and said, "LaFayette, we are here." As a young man +only twenty years old LaFayette went out to a new land to fight +for liberty, and now after nearly a century and a half the same +inspiration that sent him forth is taking our young men back to +fight in the land o his birth the old fight for right. The great +romance of international history which the relations of France and +America have afforded from the birth of this republic has entered +a new chapter with the pilgrimage of our fighting men to Europe, +and the inestimable service of LaFayette and his comrades to our +infant republic is now to be in part repaid by the nation that +France helped to establish. + +But though it is a chivalric mission on which our soldiers go, +they should not enter France in the attitude of saviors. It must +be remembered that the United States came very late into this war, +and while our troops and even more our money and material resources +may have decisive weight toward victory, yet it is France, England, +Italy, Russia against whom the enemy has spent his strength. Our +Allies have brought the war already to its turning point, and we can +at best only add completeness to their achievement. Furthermore, +while we aid France and her Allies, we are defending ourselves +also. We went to war because Germany was killing our citizens, +was plotting against the peace and security of our nation, because +her restless ambition and lust for power were choking not only +Europe but the world. + +Our American soldiers will find in France a people who have endured +with wonderful courage and devotion through more than three years +of terrific strain against odds which must often have seemed +hopeless. The French are the heroes of this war. They have been +in the fight from the beginning and will be there until the end. +Their armies were fully engaged when England had not a hundred +thousand men under arms and Italy was a neutral; they fought on +when Russia lost her grip; and they will not quit until their land +is cleared of invaders and the Prussian shadow that has darkened +France for more than forty years is lifted. More than any other +country except Belgium, France has felt the horror and hardships +of the war which we are spared because she has paid the price of +our protection. + +American soldiers who go to France are to be envied because they +are getting what comes to few men,--opportunity to be of direct, +vital service to that country. To be young, to be fit, to have a +part however small in the great events that are making the world +over into a safer and happier place for our children to live in, +is something for a man to be proud of now and to remember with +satisfaction to his last day. + +The war may last much longer than we now anticipate, but there can +be no doubt of the ultimate victory of the cause to which we are +committed. The world never turns back, it moves always forward, +always upward. Our soldiers may go out, as the Crusaders went of +old, with absolute faith that their service will not be given in +vain, that their effort and daring will not be unavailing. + +[signed] Myron Herrick + + + + + +The Hero's Peace + + + + +There is a peace that springs where battles thunder, + Unknown to those who walk the ways of peace + Drowsy with safety, praising soft release +From pain and strife and the discomfortable wonder +Of life lived vehemently to its last, wild flame: + This peace thinks not of safety, is not bound +To the wincing flesh, nor to the piteous round +Of human hopes and memories, nor to Fame. + +Immutable and immortal it is born + Within the spirit that has looked on fear + Till fear has looked askance; on death has gazed +As on an equal, and with noble scorn, +Spurning the self that held the self too dear, + To the height of being mounts calm and unamazed. + +[signed] Amelie Rives (Princess Troubetzkoy) + +Castle Hill, Virginia + + + + + + +End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of The Defenders of Democracy: +Contributions from representative men and women of letters and other +arts from our allies and our own country (President's Edition) ÿ diff --git a/3227-8.zip b/3227-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a1ee5ce --- /dev/null +++ b/3227-8.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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