4. The "Quinze Vingt" the government establishment for teaching the
permanently blind a trade.
5. The Duchesse d'Uzes' organization for sending clothing and money
to the soldiers from the invaded districts; men who have no news from
their families or relations since the German invasion.
6. Soup kitchens—good, wholesome meals provided for ten cents. There
are a number scattered over Paris, frequented by men and women of
good positions before the war. Old artists and musicians out of work,
professors who have lost their jobs, refugees from Lille, Courtrai
and the invaded provinces, widows and girls with no means, little
dressmakers and milliners without custom—a sad patient crowd who come
silently and humbly to eat the bitter bread of charity. One group of
ladies at the Hotel Mercedes (placed at their disposal) provides four
hundred meals daily.
L'Oeuvre du Blesse au Travail (objects made by wounded soldiers) are
showing in handsomely arranged shops, articles made by the men as they
lie wounded in their beds. These articles consist chiefly of baskets
of finely plaited straw, some artistically colored and of charming
designs; others made by clumsier hands, crude but interesting—lace mats
of plaited ribbon; string bags of macramé work; penholders and pencils,
fashioned from spent cartridges. Rings made from the aluminum tips of
exploded German shells picked up in the French trenches—these are very
cunningly made and are often very handsome in design and execution.
Every man, woman and child wants one of these rings, but as their only
value is being "genuine," i. e., made in the trenches by a soldier,
from the real shell tip, there are naturally not enough to go 'round.
Flowers made out of bread, tinted and modeled to an exact imitation
of Dresden flowers, stand in little gilt baskets, also made by the
soldier. Dolls as Red Cross nurses, soldiers, doll furniture and
houses, boxes, baskets, no end of tempting little things are displayed
and sold by the ladies of the committee, who guarantee the genuineness
of each object.
Then there is the "Journée," or a day is chosen with the approval
of the government, committees are formed in all the cities, towns,
and villages of France. Bands of young girls and children start out
early to sell flags or boutonnierés or rosettes, on the steps of the
churches, at the railroad station, in the public squares and streets,
holding their little pincushions stuck with flags, or scraps of ribbon,
with a sealed tin box for coins. Thus, enormous sums are collected for
the various war works, and every one, no matter how poor or humble, can
give his offering.
Besides these charities, innumerable "Ouvroirs" exist in every city.
Sewing-rooms, where poor women are paid (and fed) to make shirts,
chemises, belly-bands, socks, pyjamas, etc., and everyone is thus
helped through the long, hard winter.
Women are taking men's places all over France. Women are in the
munition factories, in the government postoffice and telegraph service,
as tramway conductors, as metro ticket collectors—places they never
dreamed of filling before the war, for the Frenchwoman is essentially a
home-body, her "intérieur" (home) being dearer to her than all else; to
take these masculine occupations is especially hard.
The great dressmakers of the Rue de la Paix, the Rue de Rivoli, and the
Place Vendôme are doing their share, too. One floor is usually devoted
to some charitable purpose, either an "Ouvroir," or a convalescent
home, etc.; and that the little "midinette" (apprentice) may feel that
she, too, is working for France, a work has been started called "la
marraine" (the godmother). Through proper channels, any woman or girl
can be put in communication with some lonely soldier in the trenches.
She writes him long, encouraging letters. She keeps up his spirits
by letting him know someone is thinking of him. When, by strictest
economy, she can scrape a few sous together, she buys him a ten-cent
packet of tobacco, or a few postal cards, or a pencil, and back in
due time comes a soiled card, written in pencil, telling her the news
of the trenches, how they will soon throw the "sales boches" out of
France, and promising to spend many a happy hour with his "marraine" if
he is lucky enough to escape the German bullets.