Chapter VII: Part 7

Judge of my astonishment! At first only a few timid voices joined the Chaplain's. But after a minute or so a marvel happened. From all those chests came a volume of sound such as I could hardly have believed possible. Who will say then that our dear France has lost her Faith? Who can believe it? Every one of these men joined in singing the hymn, and not one of them seemed ignorant of the Latin words. It was a magnificent choir, under a lofty vault, chanting with the fervour of absolute sincerity. There was not one discordant note, not one voice out of tune, to spoil its perfect harmony.

Who can believe that men, many of them more than thirty years old, would remember all the words unless they had been brought up in the faith of their ancestors and still held it?

I could not help turning to look at them. In the light of the candles their faces appeared to be wonderfully transfigured. Not one of them expressed irony or even indifference. What a fine picture it would have made for a Rembrandt! The bodies of the men were invisible in the darkness of the nave, and their heads alone emerged from the gloom. The effect was grand enough to fascinate the most sceptical of painters; it soothed and charmed one and wiped out all the miseries that the war had left in its wake. Men like these would be equal to anything, ready for anything; and I myself should much have liked to see a Monsieur Homais hidden away in some corner of that church.

Meanwhile the sacred Office was proceeding at the altar. At any other time we might have smiled at the sight of that soldier-priest served by choristers of thirty-five in uniform; at that ceremony it was inexpressibly touching and attractive, and it was especially delightful to see how carefully and precisely each performed his function that the ceremony might not lack its accustomed pomp.

VII--THE WARRIORS AND THE ROSARY

When the singing had ceased the Chaplain went up to the holy table. In a voice full of feeling he tried to express his gratitude and happiness to all those brave fellows. I should not imagine him to be a brilliant speaker at the best of times, but on that occasion the worthy man was completely unintelligible. His happiness was choking him. He tried in vain to find the words he wanted, used the wrong ones, and only confused himself by trying to get them right. But nobody had the least desire to laugh when, to conclude his address, he said with a sigh of relief:

"And now we will tell twenty beads of the rosary; ten for the success of our arms, and the other ten in memory of soldiers who have died on the field of honour.... _Hail! Mary, full of grace...._"

I looked round the church once more, and every one's lips were moving silently accompanying the priest's words. Opposite us I saw the artillery captain take a rosary out of his pocket and tell the beads with dreamy eyes; and when the Chaplain came to the sentence "Holy Mary, Mother of God, ..." hundreds of voices burst forth, deep and manly voices, full of fervour which seemed to proclaim their faith in Him Who was present before them on the altar, and also to promise self-sacrifice and devotion to that other sacred thing, their Country.

Then, after the _Tantum ergo_ had been sung with vigour, the priest held up the monstrance, and I saw all those soldiers with one accord kneel down on the stone floor and bow their heads. The silence was impressive; not a word, not a cough, and not a chair moved. I had never seen such devotion in any church. Some spiritual power was brooding over the assemblage and bowing all those heads in token of submission and hope. Good, brave soldiers of France, how we love and honour you at such moments, and what confidence your chiefs must feel when they lead such men to battle!

* * * * *

We sat at table around the lamp, and good Maman Cheveret had just brought in the steaming soup. Right away towards the east we heard the dull roll of the cannon. Good Monsieur Cheveret had just brought up from his cellar a venerable bottle of his best Burgundy, and, at the invitation of the Captain, he sat down to drink a glass with us, smoking his cherry-wood pipe and listening with delight to our merry chat.

Gosset was in his kitchen next door preparing a delicious piece of beef _à la mode_ and at the same time telling Maman Cheveret about his exploits of the past month.

We heard the men of the first troop cracking their jokes in the yard as they ate their rations and emptied their pannikin of wine under a brilliant moon.

Down in the valley on the banks of the murmuring Vesle, songs and laughter floated up to us from the artillery park.

And the village itself, shining under the starlit sky, seemed bathed in an atmosphere of cheerfulness, courage and confidence.

FOOTNOTES:

[14] All numerals relate to stories herein told--not to chapters from original sources.

"FIELD HOSPITAL AND FLYING COLUMN"--IN RUSSIA

_Journal of an English Nursing Sister_

_Told by Violetta Thurstan_

This English woman relates her experiences as an eye witness and
participant. "For me," she says, "the beginning of the War was a
torchlight tattoo on Salisbury Plain. It was fascinating to watch
the stately entrance into the field of Lancers, Irish Rifles, Welsh
Fusiliers, Grenadiers and many another gallant regiment, each
marching into the field in turn to the swing of their own particular
regimental tune until they were all drawn up in order." She then
tells about "The Beginning of It All"; "Her Experiences in Charleroi
and Roundabout"; "The Return to Brussels"; "Our Work in Warsaw";
"The Bombardment of Lodz," and "The Trenches at Radzivilow." These
and many other stories have been collected into a volume under the
title "Field Hospital and Flying Column." The stories told here are
by permission of her publishers, _G. P. Putnam's Sons_.

[15] I--WITH GRAND DUCHESS CYRIL IN WARSAW

The Grand Duchess Cyril happened to be staying at the Hotel Bristol too. Like most of the other members of the Russian Royal Family, since the beginning of the war she has been devoting her whole time to helping wounded soldiers, and is the center of a whole network of activities. She has a large hospital in Warsaw for men and officers, a very efficient ambulance train that can hold 800 wounded, and one of the best surgeons in Petrograd working on it, and a provision train which sets up feeding-stations for the troops and for refugees in places where food is very scarce, which last is an indescribable boon to all who benefit by it. The Grand Duchess's hospital in Warsaw, like every other just at this time, was crammed to overflowing with wounded from Lodz, and the staff was inadequate to meet this unexpected need.

The Grand Duchess met Princess V. in the lounge just as we arrived from Lodz, and begged that our Column might go and help for a time at her hospital. Accordingly, the next day, the consent of the Red Cross Office having been obtained, we went off to the Grand Duchess's hospital for a time to supplement and relieve their staff. They met us with open arms, as they were all very tired and very thankful for our help. They only had room for fifty patients and had had about 150 brought in. Fortunately the Grand Duchess's ambulance train had just come back to Warsaw, so the most convalescent of the old cases were taken off to Petrograd, but even then we were working in the operating-theater till twelve or one every night. They hoped we had come for two or three weeks and were very disgusted when, in five days' time, the order came for us to go off to Skiernevice with the automobiles. The hospital staff gave us such a nice send-off, and openly wished that they belonged to a flying column too. I must say it was very interesting these startings off into the unknown, with our little fleet of automobiles containing ourselves and our equipment. We made a very flourishing start out of Warsaw, but very soon plunged into an appalling mess of mud. One could really write an epic poem on Russian roads. At the best of times they are awful; on this particular occasion they were full of large holes made by shells and covered with thick, swampy mud that had been snow the week before. It delayed us so much that we did not get to Skiernevice till late that night.

II--CAMPING IN THE TZAR'S SHOOTING BOX

Skiernevice is a small town, important chiefly as a railway junction, as two lines branch off here towards Germany and Austria northwest and southwest. The Tsar has a shooting-box here in the midst of beautiful woods, and two rooms had been set apart in this house for our Column.

We arrived late in the evening, secretly hoping that we should get a night in bed, and were rather rejoiced at finding that there were no wounded there at all at present, though a large contingent was expected later. So we camped in the two rooms allotted to us: Princess, Sister G., and myself in one, and all the men of the party in the other. No wounded arrived for two or three days, and we thoroughly enjoyed the rest and, above all, the beautiful woods. How delicious the pines smelt after that horrible Lodz. Twice a day we used to go down the railway line, where there was a restaurant car for the officers; it seemed odd to be eating our meals in the Berlin-Warsaw International Restaurant Car. There was always something interesting going on at the station. One day a regiment from Warsaw had just been detrained there when a German Taube came sailing over the station throwing down grenades. Every man immediately began to fire up in the air, and we ran much more risk of being killed by a Russian bullet than by the German Taube. It was like being in the middle of a battle, and I much regretted I had not my camera with me. Another day all the débris of a battlefield had been picked up and was lying in piles in the station waiting to be sent off to Warsaw. There were truck-loads of stuff; German and Russian overcoats, boots, rifles, water-bottles, caps, swords, and helmets and all sorts of miscellaneous kit.

We often saw gangs of prisoners, mostly Austrian, but some German, and they always seemed well treated by the Russians. The Austrian prisoners nearly always looked very miserable, cold, hungry, and worn out. Once we saw a spy being put into the train to go to Warsaw, I suppose to be shot--an old Jewish man with white hair in a long, black gaberdine, strips of colored paper still in his hand with which he had been caught signaling to the Germans. _How_ angry the soldiers were with him--one gave him a great punch in the back, another kicked him up into the train, and a soldier on the platform who saw what was happening ran as fast as he could and was just in time to give him a parting hit on the shoulder. The old man did not cry out or attempt to retaliate; but his face was ashy-white with terror, and one of his hands was dripping with blood. It was a very horrible sight and haunted me all the rest of the day. It was quite right that he should be shot as a spy, but the unnecessary cruelty first sickened me.

There were masses of troops constantly going up to the positions from Skiernevice, and as there was a short cut through the park, which they generally used, we could see all that was going on from our rooms. On Sunday it was evident that another big battle was pending. Several batteries went up through our woods, each gun-carriage almost up to its axles in mud, dragged by eight strong horses. They were followed by a regiment of Cossacks, looking very fierce in their great black fur head-dresses, huge sheep-skin coats, and long spears. There was one small Cossack boy who was riding out with his father to the front and who could not have been more than eleven or twelve years old. There are quite a number of young boys at the front who make themselves very useful in taking messages, carrying ammunition, and so on. We had one little boy of thirteen in the hospital at Warsaw, who was badly wounded while carrying a message to the colonel, and he was afterwards awarded the St. George's Cross.

There were enormous numbers of other troops too: Siberians, Tartars, Asiatic Russians from Turkestan, Caucasians in their beautiful black-and-silver uniforms, Little Russians from the south, and great fair-haired giants from the north.

The little Catholic Church in the village was full to overflowing at the early Mass that Sunday morning with men in full marching kit on their way out to the trenches. A very large number of them made their Confession and received the Blessed Sacrament before starting out, and for many, many of these it was their Viaticum, for the great battle began that afternoon, and few of the gallant fellows we saw going up to the trenches that morning ever returned again.

That afternoon the Prince had business at the Staff Headquarters out beyond Lowice, and I went out there in the automobile with him and Monsieur Goochkoff. We went through Lowice on the way there. The little town had been severely bombarded (it was taken two or three days later by the Germans), and we met many of the peasants hurrying away from it carrying their possessions with them. You may know the peasants of Lowice anywhere by their distinctive dress, which is the most brilliantly colored peasant dress imaginable. The women wear gorgeous petticoats of orange, red and blue, or green in vertical stripes and a cape of the same material over their shoulders, a bright-colored shawl, generally orange, on their heads, and brilliant bootlaces--magenta is the color most affected. The men, too, wear trousers of the same kind of vertical stripes, generally of orange and black. These splashes of bright color are delicious in this sad, gray country.

III--THE GENERAL STAFF AT RADZIVILOW CASTLE

The General of the Staff was quartered at Radzivilow Castle, and I explored the place while the Prince and Monsieur Goochkoff did their business. The old, dark hall, with armor hanging on the walls and worm-eaten furniture covered with priceless tapestry, would have made a splendid picture. A huge log fire burning on the open hearth lighted up the dark faces of the two Turkestan soldiers who were standing on guard at the door. In one corner a young lieutenant was taking interminable messages from the field telephone, and under the window another Turkestan soldier stood sharpening his dagger. The Prince asked him what he was doing, and his dark face lighted up. "Every night at eight," he said, still sharpening busily, "I go out and kill some Germans." The men of this Turkestan regiment are said to be extraordinarily brave men. They do not care at all about a rifle, but prefer to be at closer quarters with the enemy with their two-edged dagger, and the Germans like them as little as they like our own Gurkhas and Sikhs.

The next day the wounded began to arrive in Skiernevice, and in two days' time the temporary hospital was full.

The Tsar had a private theater at Skiernevice with a little separate station of its own about 200 yards farther down the line than the ordinary station, and in many ways this made quite a suitable hospital except for the want of a proper water-supply.

The next thing we heard was that the Russian General had decided to fall back once more, and we must be prepared to move at any moment.

All that day we heard violent cannonading going on and all the next night, though the hospital was already full, the little country carts came in one after another filled with wounded. They were to only stay one night, as in the morning ambulance trains were coming to take them all away, and we had orders to follow as soon as the last patient had gone. Another operating- and dressing-room was quickly improvised, but even with the two going hard all night it was difficult to keep pace with the number brought in.

The scenery had never been taken down after the last dramatic performance played in the theater, and wounded men lay everywhere between the wings and drop scenes. The auditorium was packed so closely that you could hardly get between the men without treading on some one's hands and feet as they lay on the floor. The light had given out--in the two dressing-rooms there were oil-lamps, but in the rest of the place we had to make do with candle-ends stuck into bottles. The foyer had been made into a splendid kitchen, where hot tea and boiling soup could be got all night through. This department was worked by the local Red Cross Society, and was a great credit to them.

About eight o'clock in the morning the first ambulance train came in, and was quickly filled with patients. We heard that the Germans were now very near, and hoped we should manage to get away all the wounded before they arrived.

The second train came up about eleven, and by that time a fierce rifle encounter was going on. From the hospital window we could see the Russian troops firing from the trenches near the railway. Soon there was a violent explosion that shook the place; this was the Russians blowing up the railway bridge on the western side of the station.

The second train went off, and there were very few patients left now, though some were still being brought in at intervals by the Red Cross carts. Our automobiles had started off to Warsaw with some wounded officers, but the rest of the column had orders to go to Zyradow by the last train to leave Skiernevice.

The sanitars now began to pack up the hospital; we did not mean to leave anything behind for the enemy if we could help it. The few bedsteads were taken to pieces and tied up, the stretchers put together and the blankets tied up in bundles. When the last ambulance train came up about 2 P.M. the patients were first put in, and then every portable object that could be removed was packed into the train too. At the last moment, when the train was just about to start, one of the sanitars ran back and triumphantly brought out a pile of dirty soup plates to add to the collection. Nothing was left in the hospital but two dead men we had not time to bury.

The wounded were all going to Warsaw and the other Russian Sisters went on in the train with them. But our destination was Zyradow, only the next station but one down the line.

IV--ADVENTURES OF A PRINCESS IN POLAND

When we arrived at Zyradow about three o'clock we were looking forward to a bath and tea and bed, as we had been up all night and were very tired; but the train most unkindly dropped us about a quarter of a mile from the station, and we had to get out all our equipment and heavy cases of dressings, and put them at the side of the line, while Julian, the Prince's soldier servant, went off to try and find a man and a cart for the things. There was a steady downpour of rain, and we were soaked by the time he came back saying that there was nothing to be had at all. The station was all in crumbling ruins, so we could not leave the things there, and our precious dressings were beginning to get wet. Finally we got permission to put them in a closed cinema theater near the station, but it was dark by that time, and we were wet and cold and began once more to center our thoughts on baths and tea. We were a small party--only six of us--Princess, we two Sisters, Colonel S., a Russian dresser, and Julian. We caught a local Red Crosser. "Where is the hotel?" "There is no hotel here." "Where can we lodge for to-night?" "I don't know where you could lodge." "Where is the Red Cross Bureau?" asked Princess, in desperation. "About a quarter of an hour's walk. I will show you the way."

We got to the Red Cross Bureau to find that Monsieur Goochkoff had not yet arrived, though he was expected, and they could offer no solution of our difficulties, except to advise us to go to the Factory Hospital and see if they could make any arrangement for us. The Matron there was _very_ kind, and telephoned to every one she could think of, and finally got a message that we were expected, and were to sleep at the Reserve. So we trudged once more through the mud and rain. The "Reserve" was two small, empty rooms, where thirty Sisters were going to pass the night. They had no beds, and not even straw, but were just going to lie on the floor in their clothes. There was obviously no room for six more of us, and finally we went back once more to the Red Cross Bureau. Princess seized an empty room, and announced that we were going to sleep in it. We were told we couldn't, as it had been reserved for somebody else; but we didn't care, and got some patients' stretchers from the depot and lay down on them in our wet clothes just as we were. In the middle of the night the "somebody" for whom the room had been kept arrived, strode into the room, and turned up the electric light. The others were really asleep, and I pretended to be. He had a good look at us, and then strode out again grunting. We woke up every five minutes, it was so dreadfully cold, and though we were so tired, I was not sorry when it was time to get up.

We had breakfast at a dirty little restaurant in the town, and then got a message from the Red Cross that there would be nothing for us to do that day, but that we were probably going to be sent to Radzowill the following morning. So we decided to go off to the Factory Hospital and see if we could persuade the Matron to let us have a bath there.

Zyradow is one very large cotton and woollen factory, employing about 5,000 hands. In Russia it is the good law that for every hundred workmen employed there shall be one hospital bed provided. In the small factories a few beds in the local hospital are generally subsidized, in larger ones they usually find it more convenient to have their own. So here there was a very nice little hospital with fifty beds, which had been stretched now to hold twice as many more, as a great many wounded had to be sent in here. The Matron is a Pole of Scottish extraction, and spoke fluent but quite foreign English with a strong Scotch accent. There are a good many Scotch families here, who came over and settled in Poland about a hundred years ago, and who are all engaged in different departments in the factory. She was kindness itself, and gave us tea first and then prepared a hot bath for us all in turn. We got rid of most of our tormentors and were at peace once more.

As we left the hospital we met three footsore soldiers whose boots were absolutely worn right through. They were coming up to the hospital to see if the Matron had any dead men's boots that would fit them. It sounded rather gruesome--but she told us that that was quite a common errand. The Russian military boots are excellent, but, of course, all boots wear out very quickly under such trying circumstances of roads and weather. They are top boots, strong and waterproof, and very often made by the men themselves. The uniform, too, is very practical and so strong that the men have told me that carpets are made from the material. The color is browner than our own khaki--and quite different both from the German, which is much grayer, and the Austrian, which is almost blue. I heard in Belgium that at the beginning of the war German soldiers were constantly mistaken for our men.

FOOTNOTES:

[15] All numerals relate to stories herein told--not to chapters from original sources.

AN UNCENSORED DIARY--FROM THE CENTRAL EMPIRES

_By Ernesta Drinker Bullitt, An American Woman in the Diplomatic Circles in Germany and Austria_

This is one of the most delightfully interesting narratives in the
entire War. It is the diary of an American woman with a charming
sense of humor. Mrs. Bullitt accompanied her husband on his
interviews with the diplomatists as special correspondent with the
_Philadelphia Public Ledger_. Her conversations with historical
personages give one an intimate acquaintanceship with the great
characters in the world's tragedy. This American woman tells how she
dined with von Bissing, Governor of Belgium; Zimmerman, "the busiest
man in the German Empire," discussed the War with her; Countess von
Bernstorff and Baroness von Bissing asked her to tea; ambassadors
and statesmen parleyed with her. She recorded her daily experiences
without any thought of their future publication. It stands unique as
a record written entirely within the lines of the Central Empires.
Brilliant sketches from this diary are here reprinted by the
authority of the publishers: _Doubleday, Page and Company_: Copyright
1917.

I--WITH LETTERS FROM COUNT BERNSTORFF

_Copenhagen, May 14, 1916._

Once upon a time ... before the war, one went abroad with no more preparation than a steamer ticket and an American Express check or two. Two days ago, we undertook to go from Holland to Denmark, via Germany. Before daring to approach Bentheim, the German frontier, we were equipped with passports, thrice viséd; a special letter of identification from the Department of State, birth certificates, letters to the frontier authorities from Count Bernstorff and the German Minister at The Hague, eighty-seven other letters of introduction, two letters of credit, and a Philadelphia police card....

II--AT THE AMERICAN EMBASSY IN COPENHAGEN

_May 23d._

Denmark is hospitable, inexpensive, and friendly. We have seen the Egans frequently. They have been more than kind. Mr. Egan has been in Denmark eleven years--a longer period than any other diplomat in our service to-day has held a post. By common consent, he is the most popular diplomat in Denmark. The other Ministers keep dashing in and out, getting advice from Mr. Egan....

Among the other qualities of a perfect diplomat which Mr. and Mrs. Egan possess, they have that of never making a "break." Therefore, they gave us (principally me) what we needed--advice as to caution in speech, behavior, facial expression, and etiquette, also warning us against writing anything down on paper. It's going to be hard on me. I never was born to be indefinite. I am practising conversing diplomatically.

"Mrs. Bullitt, Verdun has been taken and Paris is about to surrender."

"Really? How curious. Battles are so interesting, aren't they?"

"Mrs. Bullitt, if it were not for American ammunition, the war would have ended in six months."

"Yes, battles _are_ dangerous, aren't they?" Whereas, I _might_ mention our Spanish war and certain famous German munition factories. So, the crest of idiotic amiability being reached, we move on to the weather.

Count Szechenyi, the Austro-Hungarian Minister, thinks it would be a good plan for us to go to Vienna and Pest, as so little has been seen of them during the war. He has very kindly written to people there that we are coming. I played tennis with him this afternoon at the club, he in his suspenders and monocle, and I in street clothes, with a pair of borrowed tennis shoes two inches too long on my feet, and a racket like a spoon, as a means of defence, in my hand....

III--WITH AMBASSADOR GERARD IN BERLIN

_Hotel Esplanade, Berlin, May 29th._

We got to Berlin. I must say I should have liked to wrap up in the American flag and sleep on Mr. Gerard's doorstep myself. The inspection this time was really too disgusting to repeat. I decided that, if I ever again heard any one say: "It's our orders," I should kill him. Orders apparently mean: Be as nasty to the man who can't hit you back as your imagination will allow....

We lunched at the Embassy the day after we got here. Mrs. Gerard is charming and Mr. Gerard one of the most amusing men I ever met. Brusque, frank, quick-witted, a typically judicial mind, and a typically undiplomatic manner, he is the last person in the world a German would understand. His dry, slangy, American humor, his sudden lapses into the comic in moments of solemnity, his irreverence for the great, shock the worthy German. That he treats the Emperor in any other way than as a business acquaintance is most unlikely....

The Embassy is filled with Harvard secretaries, whose lips, as Mr. Egan says, are still wet with the milk of Groton. The ballroom is bulging with stenographers. Never did the world see its few remaining diplomats so overworked. Instead of coming down and reading the papers for two hours a day, they now all work mornings, afternoons, and sometimes evenings.

IV--AT TEA WITH BARON ROEDER

_June 3d._

To-day, the flags are all out for the naval victory, even the trams and buses are decorated. The Germans didn't wish to celebrate until they were quite sure. They've made one or two mistakes, so they were cautious this time. The school-children take a real interest in German victories. They get a holiday on the strength of one, and they measure the victory only by the length of their holiday. The joy is slightly adulterated by having to go to school first and listen to a careful explanation of what they are about to celebrate. Their fondness for Hindenburg is quite immoderate. In the eyes of German children, a campaign against the Russians is a most praiseworthy undertaking.

The great wooden statue of Hindenburg, encased in geranium plants and scaffolding, had many nails driven into it to-day. The statue is an unsightly thing, but it seems to appeal to the Berliners to buy a nail for the benefit of the Red Cross, climb the scaffolding, and hammer it in....

Lunched with the Jacksons. Mr. Jackson was Secretary of the Embassy here for years. The Germans trust him, Baron von Mumm told me. Baron and Baroness Roeder were there and Countess Götzen. I asked Baron Roeder what he did and he said he was Master of Ceremonies at Court, and official introducer, and a lot of other things. He is about seventy-five, but he says he is going to the front if the war keeps up much longer. Already he has offered himself three times. His chief irritation against England is being cut off from his London tailor. Every German I meet out of uniform tells the same sad tale. The old gentleman said he thought the naval victory was due principally to Zeppelins. The Blüchers joined us for coffee. Count Blücher looks like the pictures of his famous grandparent. Princess ---- said that his father is a dreadful old gentleman, fights with everyone, his son included, all the time. As the old Prince is eighty-five, the relations had better run around and turn the other cheek before it's too late.

V--COUNTESS ---- AND HER DAUGHTER

_June 4th._

We staggered in to Countess ----'s tea late in the afternoon. She told me how she brought up Hilda, her daughter. Hilda is a little matter of six feet high. Her mother was afraid to ever let her daughter go up in the hotel lift alone for fear something will happen to her. As her last offence was to refuse to let the Kaiser kiss her--he being her godfather and claiming parental privileges--it would seem she could take care of herself.

VI--DINNER WITH COUNTESS GOTZEN

_June 8th._

I met Countess Blücher talking to that mad Irish-American, John Gaffney. He was removed from his consulship at Munich for being un-neutral, so now he is in a white rage at the President. He says he is the only American who has been fair to the Germans and that he never was un-neutral. Both Countess Blücher and Gaffney were in a great state of mind over Casement. Gaffney says he is a hero who sacrificed himself for his country, and Countess Blücher that he is a lifelong friend and therefore must be got off from hanging, whatever he has done. She has written a letter to England, saying Casement is mad, in hope that it may help to save him.

"I don't fancy he will like that--coming from me," she said, "but it was the only thing I could think of doing."

I asked Count Blücher when he thought the war would end, and he said: "When Russia is spent." I said that sounded rather pessimistic.

"No," he said. "I think we can wear her out and then get a port on the Baltic...."

Dined last night with Countess Götzen. I sat between a Spaniard and Prince Christian of Hesse. The Spaniard was a detestable little thing, and Prince Christian had tonsilitis and thought he was going to die, so I didn't get much entertainment out of him, either. Later on we changed seats and I drew a fat and pleasant Bavarian, who had known my aunt in America. I asked him what his name was and he said they called him "Booby." I said I might get to that in time but I had to have something else to tide me over. After a few Christian names, I ran him down to his visiting card and Baron von Papius.

Had tea with Countess Sehr-Thoss, an American. She is charming. When I admired an old painting on her drawing-room wall, she said: "Yes. I bought that with 2,000 marks sent me by my old uncle to buy eggs. He wrote he heard in America we were paying five dollars apiece for eggs and thought I might not be able to afford them!"

The Duchess of Croy came bounding in, looking most exuberant and American. I liked her, she is so unaffected....

VII--WHEN THE CZARINA BURST INTO TEARS

_June 10th._

Saw Fräulein Marelle and Fräulein Schulhoff, of the Lyceum Club, this morning. They were telling us stories of the invasion of East Prussia.... One lady, whom Fräulein Marelle knows, a Frau von Bieberstein, had her _château_ cut to ribbons. Her tapestry chairs were sliced up with knives, her china and mirrors broken, her beautiful chapel knocked to pieces, her bed ripped up and the feathers scattered from garret to cellar. It was rather queer to hear this tale from a German woman after Mme. Huard's tale of the wreck of her _château_ in northern France by the Germans.

They told me, too, of a nurse, a friend of theirs, who had gone to Russia. There she found, among other things, a carload of children, eighty in number, all dead of starvation. The Russians had put them in the car, sidetracked it, and forgotten it. Some other cars were found containing 200 people, all dead but one child in its mother's arms. The nurse saw the Czarina and told her of these, and many other things, and she said the Empress burst into tears. Well she might!

The Germans are told that if the Russians get into East Prussia again, they are to send the women away immediately--those who stay are all outraged.

VIII--A VISIT WITH ZIMMERMANN

_June 12th._

Agatha Grabish called this morning. She has been to East Prussia. One old woman she talked to said she had stayed for the first Russian invasion.

"Why?" Agatha asked her.

"Well," she said, "my bread was baking when the others started to go, and I didn't want to leave it. But I might just as well have," she added, "because the Russians came in and ate it all up as soon as I took it out of the oven."

Billy (the author's husband) and I went to see Zimmermann in the Foreign Office. He, with Von Bethmann-Hollweg, Von Jagow, Helfferich, and Falkenhayn, are running Germany. Zimmermann is a large, blond man. His forehead is exceptionally high and his cheeks much scarred by sword slashes. He is genial, calm, and although the busiest man in the Empire, quite unhurried.

"I have just been seeing some bankers," said he. "We are negotiating another loan for our Turkish friends. Those people are always in need of money."

Billy said it was a great imposition for us to take up his time, as he was probably very busy. He laughed and declared he was glad to see us. I told him he was like Disraeli, who said he was not "unusually busy to-day" but "usually busy."...

We asked him whether Germany looked for a long peace after the war, and whether it would be on the grounds of great military strength and strong boundaries, or on the basis of an international conciliatory body, or a treaty?

He answered that nothing short of a United States of Europe would amount to anything, and seemed to possess the usual German skepticism of treaties.

"We will have to have a United States of Europe some day, to enable us to compete economically with America. That may come in eighty or one hundred years, but not in our lifetime. If you would really develop your natural resources, we in Europe would be helpless...."

IX--TEA WITH BARONESS VON BISSING

_June 27th._

I went to Baroness von Bissing's to tea. Oh, welcome was the hour and her comfortable chair! She is small, with finely chiselled features; her movements are quick, like those of a highly bred animal, and she is rather excitable.

We sat down to tea and cherry tarts and I asked her when she was next going to Belgium. She can, of course, go whenever she likes, but is never there officially, as no German officer may take his wife to Belgium. The General, being so strict a gentleman, will not break the rule even for himself, and so Baroness von Bissing and her children must live alone in Germany, and he with his 150 aides-de-camp in his palace in Brussels.

"It is very hard to be without my husband and my eldest son," she said.

"Where is your boy?" I asked.

"He was taken prisoner by the French, wounded in six places. When he got well, they took him to prison and put him in solitary confinement in a little tiny cell with no work to do and no one with whom he can speak. He may not even look out of the cell window, for they painted it white. Twice a day he is taken for a walk by his guards--and this all because the French thought we did not treat Delcassé's son properly. Now, because they took my boy, and another, we have put six of their men in solitary confinement. We will see where these reprisals will bring us; I am sorry they must be, but we have more captured men than they."

"Why did they put Delcassé's son in prison in the first place?" I asked.

"Because he was an impertinent boy and called his officers 'dirty dogs of Prussians,'" she answered....

"Serbia and Montenegro are full of people that need to be punished, but Italy--Italy!"--said Frau von Bissing, with her pretty nose in the air--"is a nasty little dog that has done something dirty and must be kicked out!"...

"England is a disgusting hypocrite," said my hostess emphatically. "France is not so bad; we do not hate her, but England is in this war solely for money. It is a pleasant little joke of theirs, about our invading Belgium first, but I _know_ that the English and French were there before us."

Now, if the wife of the Governor of Belgium believes this so earnestly, one may imagine how firmly the rest of Germany believes it....

X--AT THE CLUB WITH BARON VON MUMM

_July 1st._

Went to the Von Gwinners' to lunch. It was Von Gwinner who put through the Bagdad Railway scheme. The house is large, but there is a life-size marble statue of a woman playing a violin in the drawing-room. He has a beautiful garden.

Von Gwinner said the victor in this war would be the nation which declared bankruptcy two weeks after all the rest. He expects they will all be taxed to the verge of poverty when the war is over, but believes Germany can hold out the longest.

Dined with Baron von Mumm Tuesday night at the Automobile Club. He is a fraud, and Count Montjelas with him, and I hope to see them both soon to tell them so. There was a crowd in the Leipziger Platz when I got there, and the two men were standing at the window. I asked what it was and they said: "Nothing, nothing, only the usual people going home from work." Now, whether they knew or not, I am not sure, but it really was the Socialists publicly demonstrating their disapproval of the imprisonment of Liebknecht for two years and a half. That shows what a Berlin riot is. I looked on and never knew it!

We've heard from Freiherr von B---- that there was a really recognizable one in Düsseldorf. All the women went to the City Hall and demanded more meat and potatoes. The Mayor stuck his shaved head out of the window and tried to calm them with tales of beans and peas, but they shouted they did not want them, they wanted potatoes and, when he said he hadn't any, they smashed all the windows that couldn't resist brick.

"That's just like the poor," said Von B----, "they won't eat anything except potatoes."

Baron Böcklin showed us pictures he'd taken on the front. In one little house in Belgium, which he'd made his headquarters, a woman sneaked in on him one night when he was sleeping. He heard her and, jumping up, caught her by the throat. She had a long knife in her hand. As Böcklin was taking it from her, a man crawled out from under his bed with a gun, but was covered by the sergeant who came to Böcklin's rescue. The Baron let both assassins go, instead of having them shot as he had the right to do. Böcklin's mother was an American, and his grandmother an Englishwoman....

Heard a delightful story about Mr. Gerard from Mrs. ----. She said that to tease Countess B---- he asked her why she hadn't married some nice stockbroker in New York, who could have provided her with much better-looking clothes, and more of them, than Count B----. She went home in a rage and told the Count, who also became furious and they both told all Berlin that Mr. Gerard was so anti-German that he disapproved of German-American marriages. Mrs. Gerard implores her husband to save his jokes for those who have a sense of humor but he says, no matter what resolutions he makes, Countess B---- is more than he can resist, and his remarks grow always worse instead of better.

XI--GUEST OF WARBURG, GERMAN BANKER

_July 6th._

That night we went to the Max Warburgs' to dine. They are very delightful people; their house is large and nice, their sense of humor a joy to find, and besides that, Mrs. Warburg was well dressed and wore--oh, wonder of wonders in a German woman--silk stockings. Mr. Warburg is one of the biggest bankers of Germany, and is certainly the nicest. He declared American business men and American financiers to be the most charming and the most uninformed men in the world.

"They know nothing of international affairs, not one thing," said he. "And they do not even know their own country thoroughly. We wonder over here how they can possibly get along with such little knowledge of the affairs of the world." He said he told his brother, Mr. Paul Warburg, that it's easy enough for him to be a big man in America, where there is so little competition, but just let him come to Germany and try it. One may think America is work-mad, but it seems a shiftless, lazy place after Germany....

XII--TALK WITH COUNT BLUCHER

_July 13th._

Lunched at the Lays'. They had a party for Prince Christian of Hesse and his wife, and Mr. and Mrs. Roger's mother and father. The Blüchers were to have been there, but old Count Blücher chose this morning to drop dead off his horse. He must have been a charming old man. Most of his life he spent trying to evade his German taxes. He had an island off the coast of England, on which he kept a great many kangaroos. Perhaps he thought they added a touch of British atmosphere to his estate. He wished to know if he couldn't come to America and live there about a week, in order to become an American citizen, as he found his island didn't get him out of paying his German taxes, but when told it would take even longer than a week to become an American citizen, he gave up that idea. He was much interested in America but said he thought it must be dangerous to have so many buffaloes around. And, when he heard of the lynchings our peace-loving citizens occasionally like to indulge in, he suggested we let our wild Indians out to subdue the lynchers. "That would soon put a stop to such riots," said the old gentleman.

XIII--AT THE AMERICAN EMBASSY IN BRUSSELS

_July 31st._

Upon Billy's appealing to Count Harrach, we were allowed to go to tea with the Whitlocks. Diplomatic life in Belgium to-day is one of the experiences it is no harm to omit. If the American Diplomats attempt to be tactful with Belgians about the Germans, and say that they really are a nice lot after all, Belgian doors close and hats are not lifted in the street. Yet if they refused to see Germans or avoided them they would shortly be requested to leave on the grounds of being anti-German. Tact and diplomacy have a hard life in Belgium now....

Philip Platt, who was also at lunch, had, as his chief worry that day, the knowledge that the three young Princesses de Ligne, who are ardently working for their country, were feeding the children in the Petites Abeilles so fast that they nearly choked them. The question which bothered him sorely was, who to get to tell the three noble ladies that their attentions would be more appreciated if they were less violent.

XIV--DINNER WITH GENERAL VON BISSING

_Berlin, August 2d._

Our last night in Brussels we dined with General von Bissing. The dinner, for some peculiar reason, was given for us.

The hall was filled with officers. One very glorious-looking person took me in charge and introduced each man to me. They clicked their booted heels together and kissed my hand. This audience over, the Governor appeared. He is seventy-two and looks sixty. His face is stern yet not unkind....

I asked Von Bissing if he approved of suffrage, and he said: "Never! It is something terrible for women."...

XV--THE KAISER AND VON HINDENBURG

_Berlin, Aug. 4th._

Hindenburg has been given charge of the eastern front, proving that Austria must have been feeling rather dejected. He was in command almost two weeks before the news came out. It must be a great blow to the Austrian pride.

I wonder if he will drive the Russians back a second time. When Hindenburg won the battle of Tannenberg and drove the Russians out of East Prussia, he was executing in reality what he had lectured the military students about for twenty years. In his lecture course he had called it the "Battle of the Masurian Lakes," and none in the world knew so well what to do in just the situation which arose as did the retired general. He had been refused, at the beginning of the war, as too old, and was obliged to sit at home helpless, and read about the Russians swarming into his country. At this point, the Kaiser remembered Hindenburg. In the middle of the night orders arrived that the General in command of the eastern front had been deposed and Hindenburg put in his place. A special train was waiting and Hindenburg started at two in the morning and worked out his plans as he sped towards the advancing Russian army. In three days the enemy was in retreat and Germany was saved. Is it a wonder the people call him: _Unser Hindenburg_? The story goes that the General who was in command sent word to the Kaiser that he must retreat behind the Oder. The Kaiser sent word back: "Retire behind the Oder, but without the army," and immediately sent for old Hindenburg. The General never plays politics. A few years ago, when there was a general inspection of troops, they conducted a sham battle. General Von Moltke managed to get a very strong position; then the Kaiser, as a grand finale, led an immense cavalry charge down a plain and exposed his troops to fire from three sides. As a grandstand play, it was magnificent. Triumphant, the Kaiser rode up to General Hindenburg, the referee.

"How was that, General?" he demanded, proudly.

The General saluted.

"All dead but one, Sir," he said.

XVI--TEA WITH COUNTESS BERNSTORFF

_August 13th._

Had tea with Constance Minot and Countess Bernstorff the other day. Just now she is in a great state of nerves over the thought of going to America to join the Ambassador. She declared she knew the English had been lying in wait for her for two years and were going to be as disagreeable as possible.

"They will search everything I have, I know," said she. "They will wash my back with acid and they will rip the lining out of everything, and I shall never be fit to be seen again."

In vain Constance and I assured her that she would be treated with great respect. I told her we had had no trouble at all, and she said: "What did you do?" I answered that we made love to the English inspection officer and asked him to dinner, and asked her why she shouldn't do the same.

"I suppose that would be the best way," she answered. Another real grievance was that everyone had tried to give her things to bring to friends and relatives in America.

"One woman gave me a large box. I opened it and found a toy Zeppelin. Imagine if the English had found that in my trunk! They would have taken me off the boat and hanged me, surely!" she said, with a laugh.

XVII--A WALK WITH AMBASSADOR GERARD

_August 15th._

Went to Herringsdorf on the one o'clock train Saturday with Lithgow Osborne and Christian Herter. The Ambassador was in Herringsdorf with Aileen and Lanier Winslow....

After dinner we went for a walk on the pier. I was with the Ambassador, who kept making his dry, humorous remarks about everyone. Soon a guard turned us back.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

"You are in Germany," replied Mr. Gerard. "Don't forget that. They wait until they find out that people like to do a thing, and then at once they forbid it."

"What I'd like best, Mr. Gerard," said I, "would be to hear you talk to the powers that be in Germany. It must be rather difficult for them to understand all your jokes."

"It is," he replied. "They can't make me out at all here."

He makes the most glorious remarks to every one. I heard that, apropos of the _Lusitania_, the Ambassador said to the Chancellor:

"Your argument about the _Lusitania_ amounts to just this. If I were to write a note to your sister and say: 'If you go out on the Wilhelm Platz, I will shoot you!' and if she did go out on the Wilhelm Platz and I shot her--that would be her fault, wouldn't it?"

And one day when Zimmerman remarked: "The United States couldn't go to war with us, because we have 500,000 trained Germans in the United States," the Ambassador replied: "You may have 500,000 trained Germans in the United States, but don't forget that we have 500,001 lamp-posts."

"A STUDENT IN ARMS"--IN THE RANKS WITH KITCHENER'S ARMY

_Resurrection of the Soul on the Battlefield_

_Told by Donald Hankey, Who Was Killed in Action on Western Front on October 26, 1916_