does war mean to her? It means the useless sacrifice of those that are
nearest and dearest. It means the breaking of the nearest of the family
ties, of the love and protection that makes these homes happy and
complete. This war is daily creating heartaches and wounds for
thousands of women and children that can never be compensated by any
possible glory of war. This war will create millions of tear-stained
faces, millions of breaking hearts that can never be comforted nor ever
be made joyous. Even when these young widows reach an age when their
hair will be tinged with white, they can never forget the hardships that
are now being made by this ruthless combat. These women may yoke their
backs to the burden and bear their suffering in silence, but the grief
will be greater for being suppressed. The pictures of daily suffering
are too dramatic and too intense to be forgotten in a year or in a
lifetime. Millions of these women have gone through the trials and
sufferings of child-birth with a joy in their hearts that they could be
the proud mothers of good families. These same mothers are now being
forced to give these sons for useless slaughter so that the greed of
nations can be appeased.
But the hardships will not end with the loss of life, it will mean the
sacrifice of every luxury, every comfort and even the bare necessities
of life for thousands and thousands of women. The main support of their
family gone, they will have to offer themselves as bread winners for
their families. Thousands of good businesses and factories have already
been swept to the ground, and thousands more will be destroyed before
this war is ended. Millions of unprotected women and girls will cry for
work, but after cities and towns are destroyed there will be little left
for those in need.
But there will be other hardships for these many unprotected mothers and
daughters. Thousands of families have worked and saved for years to buy
small homes and farms which they might call their own, and these have
been destroyed like beautiful grain by a horrible gale. Thousands of
others have saved for years to possess small fortunes, and these have
all been destroyed.
O, thinking woman, woman of all lands, do you call death, destruction of
life and property, glory of war? Did God create human lives and fertile
lands to have them all fall before the greed of man? If He had done
this, He would be an unjust God, but since His watchword is "Glory to
God in the Highest, Peace on Earth, goodwill to men," it is your duty,
mother of the race to come, to cry halt to this awful carnage, to make
your watchword in your prayer brotherly love instead of brotherly hate.
For if there is one God, there is one brotherhood, and all humanity can
only be linked to that God by brotherly love.
ASK YOUR AMERICAN FRIENDS HOW IT FEELS TO BE WITHOUT MONEY.
If "war is hell," then to be in a strange country without credit and
funds is certainly purgatory. If you do not believe this to be true, ask
any of your friends who happened to be in the war zone and they will
certainly corroborate my story.
Though I was grief-stricken by the news that the great powers of Europe
had decided to wage a world-war, I knew that this feeling was
intensified when the banks of Germany refused to recognize any foreign
letters of credit.
I should not have had a dollar to my name had my mother been well, but
as she was quite sick I went to the bank twice that week, for I thought
if she were worse later I could not leave her. We had just paid a week's
board-bill and I vowed that we should not pay another until the banks
gave us more money. I was so angry when I saw another week sneak round
and another bill appear, that I left it unopened on my bureau for a
week.
Before long I realized that being angry would do no good. I must hustle
and get some credit. The first few days it was hopeless, for there was
a perfect run on the two small banks in our town; sometimes there were
several hundred people waiting at the doors for them to open. Most of
these were Russians and Poles trying to get the money out of the banks
and to hurry home before it was too late.
One day I worked my way through the crowd and got to the cashier's desk,
where I was refused. The clerk said that he would give me change, but
since England had made war it was foolish to take their checks, as it
might be months before he could cash them. I saw it was foolish to argue
the point, but I was furious, as up to this time he had been so
solicitous about our having enough money.
The clerks at the other bank were even more disagreeable. They were all
right to the Germans, but they treated Americans as a lot of dead-beats,
who were more accustomed to travel on credit.
But I was comforted by the fact that though there were plenty of wealthy
men in our sanitarium, they were all in the same box. There were a
half-dozen millionaires whose united fortunes represented at least fifty
million dollars, but they could not raise five hundred dollars on it.
They said little, but the seriousness of their faces showed they thought
much. If they ever knew what poverty meant it was so many years ago
that they had forgotten all about its sting. These tight circumstances
did not bring out the soft, kind side of their nature, it seemed to make
them skeptics instead. They were silent and taciturn, and acted as
though a short conversation indicated a "financial touch."
One of our multi-millionaires, who poses as a splendid church-worker,
never let his acquaintanceship extend beyond a nod or a "how do you do,"
as though he thought a warmer friendship meant financial aid.
He was traveling with a friend who had less in fortune, but more heart.
His friend promised to look after mother and me, but somehow the
philanthropist put a damper on the promise.
I then turned to a wealthy brewer and he said that he would O. K. our
bills if we did not get the money. This remained a promise, for he never
was tested to put his promise into execution, though he did go into the
bank one day and tell the clerk to give us twenty pounds more.
It came about, after worrying and waiting a week, in this way: The word
came that our government had arranged so that we were to get some money
on our letters of credit. After standing out in the hot sun a half-day
the bank clerk gave my mother and me one hundred and fifty dollars on
two letters of credit. I objected, saying that we were entitled to one
hundred and fifty dollars apiece. The clerk replied curtly that the
money to be paid out was at his discretion. The one hundred and fifty
dollars was intended for traveling expenses until we should reach
Berlin. He did not seem to take cognizance of the fact that we had a two
weeks' board-bill to pay before we should get that far.
When I appeared with my mother a few days later in quest of more money
he was furious, as he accused me of calling him a d-- thing, though I
had only accused him of being a disagreeable person.
It looked for a while as though the bank clerk was determined to have me
arrested for calling him a bad name. I afterward learned that even in
homes of peace you can be arrested for calling bad names and the offence
becomes worse in war times. I was afraid that he might accuse me next of
being a spy, so I made my escape and never saw the man again. The brewer
and my mother finally quieted him and he gave us twenty pounds, or one
hundred dollars, more. Some of the men finally arranged so that they got
a few hundred dollars every week, at least enough to pay their board.
But I consoled myself by saying that there were some who had less credit
than we had. There was an American man who had lived for years in
China, and he said that he could not get a dollar. A Chicago lawyer
took pity and shared his fifty pounds with him, trusting to fate to get
some more.
After realizing fully that I could not get any money from the small
bank, and in such desperate times it was foolish to depend on promises
for aid, I decided to campaign for more money.
Just before the cables had been closed, I had been advised from home to
seek advice and financial aid, if necessary, from two men in Frankfurt;
the one I had met six months before and the other I did not know. At
first I thought I would take a train and go up to Frankfurt to shorten
the process of borrowing money. Though it is only a five hours' trip,
under ordinary circumstances, from where I was, it had been prolonged to
a fourteen hours' journey. I did not want to trust to the mail, as less
than ten per cent. of the letters written were being received. I was
glad to find out that I could wire for twenty-five cents, as money was
too precious to be wasted on long distance messages, and it broke my
heart every time I had to send a cable.
One evening I decided to find our Frankfurt friend. I soon discovered I
had undertaken a large contract. When I looked in the directory I could
not find his business address. I was about to give up in despair when
the happy thought came that I might find it in the telephone book. I
found the name, Heilburg, 61 Beethoven strasse. It's fortunate that many
of the streets in Germany are named after the composers and artists, for
though I had only been there once, I remembered they lived on a musical
street.
After waiting a half-hour I got my party, and had as much difficulty in
making him remember who I was as I had in holding an intelligible German
conversation over the 'phone. I thought the man would drop at the 'phone
when I asked him for two hundred and fifty dollars, and he compromised
on half the amount. Though his intentions were the best, it took a
week's hard telephoning every day until I actually had the money in my
hand.
In the meanwhile I had received another cable from home telling me to
call up a certain banker in Frankfurt. When I approached him on the same
subject on the 'phone, he said he had never heard my name before, and I
could not expect him to hand out money to a person he did not know. I
acquiesced in his statement and said that his brother in America was a
great friend of my brother. To this he answered he believed all I said
was true, but did not see how he could loan me money without being
authorized. Finally we compromised on seventy-five dollars, and he
promised to let me have more if I sent our letter of credit. I refused
to do that, as I knew it would only be lost in the mail.
I decided that I had enough to pay my board-bill for the next two weeks
and that was a good deal more than others had, many of whom were living
on credit or paying with checks and drafts. There were two or three of
our guests who did not have dollar to their name, for all the English
and French credit had been cut off. At the end of two weeks I saw my
funds being depleted and I decided it was necessary to start on another
campaign. In the meantime I had received a letter from a cousin in
Dresden and I answered that I could use a little money. That week she
sent me two hundred dollars, which paid our board-bill and debts accrued
on telephone, telegraph and cable messages. When I left I still owed one
week's board-bill. At first it looked as though our host did not intend
to let us go without paying, but when he saw I was firm about paying no
more he yielded, and said the rest could be paid after we got home.
Money was so tight there for four weeks that anything beyond spending a
penny for a newspaper was considered foolish extravagance, and I scolded
my mother one day for spending twenty-five cents for flowers. Every time
I took a carriage to make a long business journey I considered myself
wicked, and a carriage ride for pleasure was out of the question. The
only extravagance I knew was giving some money to the Red Cross society
and some generous tips to the men who went off to the war. At times I
thought I should forget how to shop if I ever reached the point where I
had plenty of money of my own.
The condition of Americans in Berlin was not much better. I met friends
with less than a dollar in their pockets. A doctor and his wife had come
up from Carlsbad to Berlin with a quarter between them. Here they were
fortunate enough to meet a friend who loaned them two hundred and fifty
dollars for a ticket and traveling expenses.
There was a professor and his wife who were trying to get a second-class
ticket on a Holland-American boat, though they only had twenty-five
dollars in their pockets. They trusted to luck for their ticket and
their money. Good fortune favored them, for on their way from Berlin to
Holland they met a Southern man, who helped them get their ticket and
paid for it.
Every day dozens of young girls who had been studying abroad, and
teachers off for a summer's holiday, presented themselves at the German
Embassy, telling their hard-luck stories of how they were down to the
last cent, and that they would have to be home by the time school
opened.
Mrs. Gerard took care of many of these cases herself and saw to it that
they were provided with third-class tickets.
At the hotel where I was stopping I met an American lady with three
daughters. She said that they had enough funds to take them home in four
weeks by the strictest kind of management. The mother and the two young
girls had taken over the task of doing the family washing in the
bathtub, while the eldest girl was earning one dollar a day for
stenographic work at the Embassy. A little later I met two girls who had
been in Hamburg. They managed to pay their board and part of their
tickets by helping the council out there.
I soon found out that even with money in my pocket, it was hard to make
money count, for when it came to getting change they would only give you
paper money of small denominations. Gold was the only thing that spoke,
and silver was as much at a premium as paper was worthless. I found many
people who were going without their next meal because they could not get
their paper money changed. I went on a shopping expedition for an hour
one morning, just to get a hundred marks changed. I was told that
thousands of Americans were stranded in Switzerland, who were without a
dollar and without a ticket. As a friend wrote to me, "It is a pitiable
sight to see so many of our American women and children, including
artists, invalids, school teachers, and mothers with families, who have
been educating their children in Switzerland, driven almost to
destitution. They come back with tears in their eyes from Swiss banks,
because the clerks try to find any possible flaw in their drafts and
refuse to honor their letters of credit. Even the more generous of these
bankers have only a few hundred dollars a week on which to do business.
"Those of us who are living in Swiss families and boarding houses are
fortunate, for the Swiss people are intelligent to understand our
predicament and to feel sorry for us. But many have been living in
fashionable hotels, where the prices mounted immediately when tourists
came piling in by the hundreds. These proprietors expect to have their
bills paid weekly, which means that many of their guests are without a
dollar. I am sure that more than one wealthy woman has parted with more
than one handsome piece of jewelry to pay a week's board bill for
herself and her children. The question uppermost in every one's mind is,
"When will the Tennessee with its chest of two hundred million dollars
arrive, voted by Congress for the relief of Americans?"
"I am sure that the greatest hardships are being known by those who have
been living in the mountain resorts in Switzerland, where they have
been cut off from all communication. I have seen a number of such people
come staggering into our town carrying dress-suitcases, exhausted for
want of food and sleep."
On our boat coming home there were a number of destitute cases, men and
women without a dollar to their name. After a few days a committee of
wealthy men got up a fund to help them out. The day before our boat
landed a New York Citizens' Club sent word to our captain that they
should look up the destitute cases and they should be provided with
money when they reached New York. Among the cases presented some were
worthy and some were not. One woman made her plea that she had been
separated from her husband a few years before, as a reason for getting
money, though she had plenty to take her home.
The American women had been made destitute by losing all their baggage
and can count their material wealth in dress-suitcases. The first time I
decided to start for Holland the railroads were allowing tourists to
take their trunks with them, but two weeks later they said they would
not be responsible for any baggage taken. The most daring took a chance,
only to leave their luggage in the stations. I saw stations that were
piled high with five thousand and more American trunks. Some of the
people were fortunate to get their trunks to the frontier, only to lose
them on the boundary line. My mother and I left eight trunks on the
other side. These are divided between France and Germany. Still we are
glad that they are distributed in this way, for however the war goes, we
ought to get some of our belongings. On our boat I heard that there are
nearly a hundred thousand American trunks in Paris and the same number
in London. Unless these trunks are regained, many a woman will have to
content herself with two dresses and one hat this winter.
On our boat many a woman bewailed the loss of her trunks, as she said,
"Just to think, this is my first trip to Europe and I haven't got one
thing to show for it. It has been the dream of my life to say I owned a
Paris dress and hat. A hundred dollars is a good deal to pay for a hat
and a dress, but certainly they were worth it, if I only had something
to show for it.
"I didn't mind for myself, but it doesn't seem like being away unless
you have presents for the family at home. I had bought my sisters each a
handsome evening bag, mother a handsome scarf and father a beautiful
amber pipe."
These hard straits are in marked contrast with the luxurious way in
which Americans have been traveling and living abroad the last ten
years. Our steamers have reached a point where they were perfect ocean
palaces, comparable with the finest New York hotels. The hotels in
Europe have been transformed from simple boarding houses to marble
palaces, equipped with every luxury and comfort. A room and bath in any
first-class hotel brought seven dollars a day and a suite of rooms at
thirty was not considered extreme. Many of the restaurants were so fine
and fashionable that they didn't even print prices on their bills of
fare.
In the summer resorts ten years ago, a hotel keeper boasted of having an
omnibus to take the people to the station, an elevator and a few
bathrooms. To-day these simple hotels have been transformed into perfect
palaces. Golf links, tennis courts and tango teas. The Americans are in
no small part responsible for these high prices and foolish luxuries.
These hard times, experienced in the war zone, may result in bringing
them to their common sense, so that they can again enjoy the simple
living.
WHAT THE QUEEN OF HOLLAND IS DOING TO PRESERVE PEACE
If you were only in Holland for a few days you would find out that
Wilhelmina is the best ruler in Europe and one of the ablest
stateswomen. No sooner had Europe gone to war than she had her
government give orders for mobilization. Little Holland was the first
after the declaration of war to declare neutrality, and they have kept
their faith in not giving aid nor showing any partiality to either side.
This has been no small task, for England has been pressing her on one
side to join the allies and Germany would like to use her in a material
way, especially in the bringing in of food supplies. England has time
and again made charges that she was assisting Germany in spite of her
neutrality. On the other hand England has several times seized food
supplies that belonged to Holland, saying that she was importing them to
send them on to Germany.
In spite of these difficulties, such as seizing Dutch boats, because
they carried Germans and Austrians going home to fight for their
country, the Queen of Holland, backed by her country, has shown an
abundance of common sense.
At a recent opening of Parliament she addressed her people, saying she
hoped she could keep perfect neutrality. This they would do unless they
were forced into the war, for both she and her people wanted peace more
than anything else in the world.
In order to maintain this peace in an honorable way, she, sided by her
ministers, has done everything in her power to make a bold stand should
one or the other of the nations cross the boundary.
When in Holland a few weeks ago, I had the good fortune to cross one of
the Dutch frontiers. The boundary was well guarded with men to see that
none of the marching men nor contraband of war should be carried across
the border.
The entire standing army and a large part of the reserves, nearly a
hundred thousand men in all, are scattered between the cities and the
boundaries. It is said that she can call a much larger force to the
front in case of actual warfare than she has at present. In nearly all
the large cities, such as The Hague, Amsterdam and Rotterdam, I saw a
large number of young men going through all kinds of military tactics.
They were learning how to drill, how to fire, how to dig ditches and
build impromptu forts in haste.
That Holland is determined to make a bold stand and fight for her
rights if needed, is shown by the fact that she has mined her coast and
dynamited her bridges so that she can cut her dams on short notice.
There was such a rumor the day we were at The Hague. It had been falsely
rumored that the German Consul had been recalled that day and that the
country would be flooded within twenty-four hours.
The Dutch took little credence of these wild rumors, and continued their
business and went through their work of mobilizing in the same quiet,
energetic way. In spite of their delicate position, there is not a
country in Europe that seemed less interested in the war than this north
country. The hotel-keepers were too busy looking after the welfare and
comforts of tired Americans to take time to discuss war. The shopkeepers
were too busy supplying the tourists who had any money left with old
Dutch silver and delftware to worry about the war. While the steamship
company were too occupied enlarging their boats with auxiliary cabins,
getting extra crews and recalling their captains, who had already been
sent to the front, to bother their heads about war scares. It may be a
mere coincidence, still it is a strange one, that some of the persecuted
forefathers fled from England and remained in Holland until they came to
our America. It is just a little strange that an American gave such a
handsome peace palace to the world, and it should find its place in
Holland. It is no less strange that the Queen of Holland and her
ministers have taken such an active part in all the peace movements. In
the last few weeks they have been most energetic in succoring Americans
who fled from Germany and Austria, and she has been most active in
getting these refugees home.
As I saw the Queen of Holland leave her palace one afternoon in an
automobile, the crowds waiting about her palace to greet her showed that
she is near and dear to all her subjects. The fact that she was not
surrounded by any soldiers or civil service men shows that she has
nothing to fear from assassins. Every man in the crowd took off his hat
as a mark of respect, while the women greeted her with shouts and the
waving of handkerchiefs.
Though she is the third richest ruler in Europe, she refuses to indulge
in any foolish extravagance. Her palace at The Hague is pretty, but
simple, while she finds the one in Amsterdam too large and too expensive
for common use. She spends a large part of her own private fortune for
providing Creches, an old people's home. She is never so happy as when
she finds among her people an energetic mother with a good-sized
family. The one great unhappiness in Queen Wilhelmina's girlhood was
that she wanted children and was deprived of having them. Her mother and
friends say that she has grown ten years younger since she had her
little daughter. She is the pride of her mother's heart, though the
Queen makes every effort to see that she is not pampered by herself or
her subjects.
Although Queen Wilhelmina is fonder of her home and more interested in
the welfare of her subjects than she is of public life, she is a
splendid stateswoman and diplomat.