The pale sunlight of early November came through our workroom windows as I sat at the end of a long table writing out lists of things to be sent in answer to the demands of the previous day. The little directrice was in the room below helping in the weekly distribution of gifts to the Mission "poors" (French families from the quarter about Holy Trinity Church that had long been assisted by the gentle Charities of the Missionary Society).

A little lady accompanied by a young girl and a boy came into the room and sat down. Daily and hourly gentlewomen came to us with requests to prefer, women who were very shy and proud; and we usually waited until they were ready to tell us of their needs. So when this lady came I looked up and bowed and went on with my work. By and by she came to me and asked me if she could speak to Mlle. du Bellet, one of the assistants.

"Yes, certainly, but she is not here for the moment. Will you wait for her or can I serve you, Madame?"

"I will come again," she answered. "But may I ask you where all these supplies are sent?"

She sat down beside me and I told her of the Hospitals, the refugees and of those in sudden and bitter need that we were trying to reach; and then I said to her,

"We are so grieved that we can do nothing for the Belgian soldier, exiled from his country and not even knowing where his family are; so far we have found no way of reaching him."

"Perhaps I might help," she answered, "I am Belgian."

Now from the first day of the War we had trusted God to show us where and how to work; had trusted too, to His Holy Spirit to put it into the hearts of friends everywhere to make the work to be done a possibility. So the answer to her suggestion was,

"Will you come to luncheon with us tomorrow and meet my husband? He is busy every instant but he is at home from twelve to one. He will tell us how to plan for what we want to do."

The invitation was accepted and then she said,

"May I bring a friend whom we would find sympathetic and helpful?"

"Certainly! if you will kindly ask her in my name."

I had no other knowledge of the lady than that she was a Belgian. When she was ready to go she said,

"If I had been in Paris recently you would have known me. I am the daughter of the Count de Franqueville and we live at La Muette. My husband is the Duc d'Ursel and is Aide-de-Camp to the King. I came to speak to Mlle. du Bellet who was at one time my governess." So another door for service opened.

The guest book at the Rectory has on one of its pages this record, written in French, by the Duchesse d'Ursel, for the daily journals in France:

"We have been asked to make an appeal to the generosity of our readers for 'L'Oeuvre du Soldat Belge', organized to collect warm clothing, surgical instruments and supplies for the Belgian Soldiers who fight beside their brothers of the Allied nations. The women of Belgium have no way of sending things to the Belgian soldier. The Committee has for its president la Duchesse d'Ursel, who will make it her charge to see that all gifts received are sent to the front. The Oeuvre is happy to be assured of the precious co-operation of Americans. Gifts of money as well as clothing will be received by the Ctsse. René de Chérisey, 113 rue de Grenelle or by Mrs. Samuel N. Watson at the Parish House of Holy Trinity Church, 23 Avenue de l'Alma, Mrs. Watson having consented to represent her countrywomen."

These brief lines were signed by the Rev'd Dr. Samuel N. Watson and by the ladies mentioned in them.

It was because our American Church was here doing its duty bravely and quietly that this work for the Belgian Soldiers became possible and it should be remembered that it is the first distinctive work begun by private initiative for the Belgian Army.

Now all societies of any sort in France, which solicit gifts from the public for Charities, are required by law to submit their books at any time to police inspection. The American Church could not, of course, ask for gifts in France. The Rector of the Church did, however, offer the Hospitality of the workrooms and such gifts and service as we could offer for this Belgian work. The Oeuvre had its own Committee, it own Secretary and Treasurer and, save for the Rector and Mrs. Watson, was entirely French and Belgian. The Treasurer was M. Alfred Wolfers, vice-President of the Belgian Chamber of Commerce in Paris. The Executive Committee included the Rector, M. Dumaine (M. Dumaine was the French Ambassador to Austria when war was declared) and Baronne de Beyens, wife of Belgium's Ambassador to Berlin at the outbreak of the War. Baronne de Beyens was charged by her Government with oversight of Belgian Relief in Paris. To these were added Comtesse de Boissieu, sister of the Duc d'Ursel, Madame Maurice Romberg, wife of the Belgian artist, Mrs. Watson, General-Major Frans, Governor General of Belgium and Mlle. du Bellet, Secretary. All arrangements for the work to be done were left entirely in the hands of the Executive Committee. The Comité d'Honneur included as President Madame la Duchesse de Vendôme (King Albert's sister) and about twenty men and women, French and Belgian, and all of them of distinguished place and of real service. The Baronne Empain undertook the conveyance of our gifts to the front and a week after the Oeuvre was formed, gifts came to us almost faster than we could receive them. Sometimes we had an envelope with a five franc note, marked "a French woman for the Belgians", but always we had gifts, gifts, and gifts. The Oeuvre had at once the approval of the Belgian Government and the members of the Committee worked hard every day packing and arranging supplies.

After a time we began to see and to talk to men who came straight from the Front. Our very first gifts were taken to Queen Elizabeth for her distribution on the very day our Oeuvre was formed and the gifts were Hospital supplies and clothing for sick men. The Count René de Chérisey carried the packages to the Queen and brought her personal acknowledgments to the Oeuvre.

Early in December, 1914, a Belgian Commandant came to us to ask how many pairs of socks we could give him on that very day. We told him we could supply about one thousand pairs of all sorts and sizes. He put his head down on his folded arms at the table where we sat, and cried like one whose heart is broken.

"Poor fellows! Poor fellows! Neither fed, warm or even clean," he said.

"Mon Commandant," I answered, "will you give us until tomorrow? You shall have all that we can buy."

The day after he went back to his soldiers and with him went nearly three thousand pairs of socks. The Duchesse d'Ursel told me herself, of the terrors of the wet, ice-filled trenches, of men standing for from thirty-six to forty-eight hours in the wet and often with only a crust of dry bread for their stomachs.

After the Commandant's appeal we sent a cable to Mrs. James H. Andrews of Akron, Ohio, asking Akron to send us socks. You all know Akron(6) for the things it sells but we know it also for the things it gives so generously. On January 18th, 1915, Mrs. Andrews writes,

My dear Dr. Watson:

I have ordered from the Detroit-Alaska Knitting Mills 450 (four hundred and fifty) dozen pairs of socks. They will be shipped to you from New York by the Quaker Oats Company via the French line and landing at Havre."

I wonder if any of you can think what it meant to us when those great cases arrived in Paris. By that time we were working so hard, all of us and everybody, that we could hardly sleep nights and the demands on our stores far exceeded anything we had even dreamed about. When the socks came they were all unpacked and piled on long tables, warm, comfortable, blue socks, big and long and knitted by an intelligent machine, and so much more comfortable that knowledge took the place of good intentions as to the length of legs and feet. The King's sister and the Ladies in Waiting, all the Comité d'Honneur came and looked at the splendid gift and. then the socks were piled in sacks and sacks and sent by automobile to

The distribution was made at the Queen's direction and the Official thanks for the gifts were sent to Mrs. Andrews in April, 1915. Those letters were lost at sea.

The originals of these proclamations are in the hands of an American gentleman who lives in France and has lived there for over fifty years.

AVIS(10) HOLNON, le 20 Juillet, 1915 Tous les ouvriers, et les femmes et les enfants de 15 ans sont obligés de faire travaux des champs tous les jours, aussi dimanche, de quatre heures du matin jusque huit heures du soir (temps français). RECREATION: Une demi-heure au matin, une heure à midi et une demi-heure après-midi. La contravention sera punie à la manière suivante: 1) Les fainéants ouvriers seront combinés PENDANT la récolte en compagnie des ouvriers dans une caserne, sous inspection des corpereaux allemands. APRES la récolte, les fainéants seront emprisonnés six mois; le troisième jour, la nourriture sera seulement du pain et de l'eau. 2) Les femmes fainéantes seront exilées à Holnon pour travailler. APRES la récolte, les femmes seront emprisonnées six mois. 3) Les enfants fainéants seront punis de coups de bâton. De plus, le Commandant se réserve de punir les fainéants ouvriers de vingt coups de bâton de tous les jours. Les ouvriers de la commune Vendelles sont punis sévèrement. GLOSS Colonel et Commandant.

Long before November, 1914, our English Choir Boys had been sent back to England and now Holy Trinity's Choir School at 68 rue de la Tour stood untenanted. After our work for Belgium was organized, the Rector opened the Choir School for what was known as the Home Belge.

Madame Schlatter had immediate surveillance of the Home but all the marketing and direction of the place was put in the hands of the Comtesse de Hedouville. Sixteen Belgian gentle people were sheltered and cared for there for many months and two young Belgian maids sang and worked for their own supper and that of all the household. In the springtime they had all found friends either at the sea or in the country.

There is a certain lawyer (avoué) M Chebanier of Marvejols in the Lozère who had flocks of sheep. In January he wrote to tell us of his admiration for our "brave friends of the Belgian Army" and he added,

"I am sending you a first envoi, twenty-four pairs of socks. I have the wool spun and knitted myself and all I have shall be sent to you to distribute."

They were perfect socks, soft, cream-colored and big enough for soldiers to wear and they were all sent to the trenches. M. Chebanier's gift continued from January, 1915 until late in 1917 when all need of that sort of assistance for the Belgian Army was a thing of the past. The records have all been kept of the soldier's grateful acknowledgments.

Under a glass case such as is used for mounting butterflies, we have kept two little dried sprays of box, tied with the Belgian colors. They were part of a beautiful bunch of green brought to us in 1916 just after Palm Sunday. The man who brought them was a big, blonde soldier and he has told us that he was Belgian by birth; but now a naturalized Canadian. At the first whisper of war he had come to fight for his native land.

"This visit to Paris is," he said, "my first permission and my first stop is here with you. I live at La Trappe near Quebec and I am proud that the American Church gives our Army its first help. This bunch of box came from the Yser and was blessed on Palm Sunday. I bring it with the thanks of my Regiment."

We saw him twice after that and then I think he must have died, for he had written to us after his last visit,

"I had an agreeable surprise on returning to my Regiment. I am now in a company of mitrailleuses. I had asked for the post which is evidently a perilous one. It gives my heart of a Belgian great satisfaction "de tirer 600 coups la minute." God grant that my unhappy country may soon be free."

The door had scarcely opened for the soldier and his needs when he was followed by those for whom he fought. All through 1915-16 we were clothing and caring for little children housed by the "Aide Civile Belge", at the Château de Wisques in which the Friends' Ambulance Unit (English) was interested also. There are too many letters even to quote but they all send gratitude to the "dear Americans" who help in such beautiful giving. So God's blessing goes to all of you from His poor, not forgetting "a missionary who has no children and who gives out of his savings the sum of $100", for his heart is moved by the needs of the children of this brave race."

In February, 1915, the following letter came to Dr. Watson from the "Hospital Elizabeth" at Poperinghe:

The clothes and provisions that you have sent have come .... Thanks to you we can already give soups to our sick and the feeblest are warmly clad and their strength renewed with the good wine. It is impossible to tell you of the distress of our unhappy people who, driven out by the invading army, are dying of hunger and misery, hoping against hope to go back home soon. In three months' time there have been over one thousand graves made in our cemetery and there our refugees find shelter in their last sleep.

For them I thank you and all whose aid you minister. . .

Comtesse L. Van den Steen de Jehay

Letters came, too, in numbers from the Comtesse Louise d'Ursel telling us how well the Quakers and the Belgian nurses worked together.

When we write of what was done by any one Committee of Americans in Paris we must always remember that they worked as Americans. They shared their supplies and although of necessity working in different ways they worked as a unit, not outwardly but in spirit. Our records are full of thanks from and to our compatriots. Mrs. Edward Tuck on November 16, 1914 provided a house and 40 beds for Belgian Refugees; Mrs. R.W. Bliss, Mrs. Walter Gay, Miss Spofford, Mr. Charles du Bos, Mr. George Munroe and M. Henri Dequis were of the first Committee to provide American Hostels for Belgian Refugees.

Belgian ladies from the very first of the War in their own country and wherever they found themselves gave of their personal service to their countrywomen.

When the Baronne Buffin was passing days and nights of anxiety for her own family and for her country, she still kept the work of the Belgo-Franco- American Lace Committee at its very most efficient best. She is a beautiful woman, rather above medium height, of charming figure, and always dressed in black and white. I like to remember the bravery of the gentlewomen who refused to betray or neglect the things that make a gentlewoman a very real asset to her country.

Just here I would like to tell you a little about how the lace workers helped and were themselves helpers. Is it not a most charming and lovely thing that the revival and saving of the art of lace making in her country, should be the special care of the Belgian Queen! Desiring to conserve all that is best in the home life of her country, she has used her power for the fair things in the nation's life. Early in her reign she formed a Committee for the saving of L'Industrie Dentellier". In the middle of the nineteenth century there were in Belgium over one hundred thousand lace makers; and so exquisite was their art that they brought both fame and fortune to their country. Then began an era of factory building and the consequent going out of girls and women from their own homes to work in factories. Day nurseries began to take the place of mothers and sisters and tired men and women came home in the evenings to cheerless houses and more or less cold meals.

Queen Elizabeth and her Committee, as a first step toward the revival of lace-making, created a demand for the lace by making it fashionable not only for wearing but for the decoration of household linens. The profits of the "middle man" were greatly reduced and in many instances eliminated by the collection and sales of laces through the Committee and their helpers.

When the Belgian Refugees came into France, especially in Paris and its environs, most of them came without any personal possessions other than those which they carried in their hands. Their own countrywomen who could help care for them began that service almost immediately. Early in 1915 the "Comité Belgo-Franco-Américain" was established in Paris. There were twenty ladies on the Committee of which the Présidente d'Honneur was S. A. R. La Duchesse de Vendôme. Mrs. Hill, Mrs. Bliss, Mrs. Tyler, Mrs. Wharton and Mrs. Watson represented America. The Baronne V. Buffin was the active head of the work in Paris.

In 1914 the Château de Brinborion at Sèvres was the first shelter for large numbers of Belgian girls and nuns who at once began the work of lace-making. Baronne Buffin and her Committee established a shop on the rue Tronchet, just back of the Madeleine, and to make this possible the members of the Committee each subscribed five hundred francs. From the very first the shop was self-supporting, French and Belgian ladies providing work for their countrywomen. In this manner their sanity, self-respect and industrial value to Community life were all safeguarded.

Under Mrs. Wharton's special charge three lace schools were established in Paris and here little girls were taught as they would have been taught at Bruges. In gratitude to God for the power to continue this work for their country in a difficult hour the women offered certain linens and laces to be used on the altars of the pillaged churches when they should be restored. The Belgian Government established its "Assistance Temporaire" in Paris with offices on the rue Amsterdam. The supervision of this "Assistance" was given by the Baronne de Beyens whose husband, you will recall, was the Belgian Minister at Berlin when war broke out. Baron Beyens' book written at this time, "Germany Before the War", is one of the important books of the era.

Can you think of anything finer than the steady, unfailing devotion of the little Committee of L'Oeuvre du Soldat Belge, month after month, year after year, working steadily on with no réclame of any sort. Heart-broken with anxiety both personal and public, and yet keeping on, never too hurried for the most exquisite courtesy, never too concerned with great things to neglect the needs of a lonely soldier. Oh! I can tell you I shall always be grateful for the time spent with that little group who worked in entire harmony for four years.

Not far from our house and on the rue Nitot lived the Comtesse Armand de Kergorlay; Belgian by birth, French by marriage. Through diplomatic connections, my husband was able to obtain news of her father and mother who lived in Belgium. She is very brilliant and deeply interested in what she called the "American Religion". She was, of course, a devout and devoted French Catholic and could never be anything else, but she was generous toward those whose Faith she judged by their deeds. It was this slender young woman who put us in the way of preparing Bains Douches for the Belgian Army. These Douches provided for eight men at a time, warm, comfortable shower baths, and the outfits cost 573 francs apiece. One was given in the name of the American Church, two in the name of L'Oeuvre du Soldat Belge and the other nine were sent by the American Relief Clearing House. The gratitude that these gifts brought was most touching.

"So often with no means of comfort or cleanliness", writes the Colonel of the 7th regiment, "what a comfort it is for us and how it warms our hearts when you help us to soften the hardships of our soldiers, those most valiant and sorely tried men."

AN HISTORICAL DOCUMENT

Ce document reproduit le texte, et en facsimile, les signatures des Plenipotentiaires des six Puissances qui ont garanti l'indépendance et la neutralité de la Belgique par le traité de 1839 dont la rupture par l'Allemagne a causé la guerre actuelle.

"LE CHIFFON DE PAPIER"(11)

ARTICLE II.

Sa Majesté la Reine du Royaume Uni de la Grande Bretagne et d'Irlande, Sa Majesté l'Empereur d' Autriche, Roi de Hongrie et de Bohème, Sa Majesté le Roi des Français, Sa Majesté le Roi de Prusse, et sa Majesté l'Empereur de toutes les Russies, déclarent, que les Articles mentionnés dans l'Article qui précède, sont considérés comme ayant la même force et valeur que les Articles mentionnés dans l'Article qui précède, que s'ils étaient insérés textuellement dans le présent Acte; et qu'ils se trouvent ainsi placés sous la garantie de Leurs dites Majestés.

ARTICLE VII.

La Belgique, dans les limites indiquées aux Articles I, II, et IV, formera un Etat indépendant et perpétuellement neutre. Elle sera tenue d'observer cette même neutralité envers tous les autres Etats.

(Here follow the seals of Great Britain, Belgium Austria, France, Prussia, and Russia.)

This document reproduces the text and is a fac-simile of the signatures of the Plenipotentiaries of the six Powers who guaranteed the independence and neutrality of Belgium by the treaty of 1839, the breaking of which by Germany caused the present war.

So reads the inscription on the monument to the Apostle to the lepers, the monument not far from Louvain. His Fatherland! The Belgian Soldier has been worthy of that tribute also. As for Belgium herself, I think that a tribute which appeared in the Revue Hebdomadaire sums up all that should be said of that brave country. The article from which I quote is called "The Transfiguration of the Nations" and it speaks thus of the little land whose colors are vivid scarlet, black and yellow:

"Et il y a, en outre, une autre transfiguration qui a suivi celle de la Belgique et qui y a trouvé son origine, je veux dire une transfiguration de toute l'idée d'une vie nationale terrestre; et c'est bien là de quoi nous donner un immense espoir pour l'avenir de la race, car on a vu tous ceux qui pensent moralement acclamer ces jours-ci ceux qui ont dit: "La Belgique ne sera pas écrasée; nous ne le permettrons pas"; tandis que ceux qui ont cherché seulement à étayer l'existence corporelle de la Belgique sont inquiets et mécontents d'eux-mêmes.

La Belgique surgira de ses cendres: Elle sera glorieusement reconnue comme le représentant de tout ce que le monde considère comme la signification de la vraie vie d'une nation, parce qu'elle n'a pas tenu à tout prix à garder sa vie en elle-même. Par sa transfiguration, elle a démontré une vérité éternelle, que maintenant le monde connaît, et cette leçon sera inscrite dans le livre d'or de l'Histoire."(12)

SAMUEL N. WATSON

It was late in 1915 when a letter came to us from the Countess de Chérisey who was spending a few weeks at her Château, Joncy, in the Charleroi. Even here in the lovely land where there were herds of white cattle and beautiful vineyards, there were refugees and many people in need of help. The old men and over-burdened women were caring for the vines and the Count was helping to meet the added strain by gifts and such comforts as he could command. You remember that the Countess was one of the original Committee for L'Oeuvre du Soldat Belge and now she writes

"It has been my deep desire to arrange for a manifestation, patriotic and religious, at Notre Dame and that it should be in honor of our Belgian sovereigns, in November. I write to say that the Count de Franqueville and the Duchesse d'Ursel, douairière, have obtained the consent of the Cardinal Archbishop of Paris and that he himself will officiate at this fête. My husband has obtained the Père Janvier as the preacher and it is arranged that the collection shall be for the work of our Oeuvre."

By this time the work in which we were engaged for Belgium had grown to very large proportions and was well known to the Belgian army and throughout France. The Rector's only request in this matter was that the service be appointed at such an hour as would leave him free for the Evening Service at Holy Trinity Church. The card of admittance to Notre Dame reads:

"Oeuvre du Soldat Belge, sous la haut patronage de S. A. R. Madame la Duchesse de Vendôme. Eglise de Notre Dame. Solennité a l'occasion de la Fête de leurs Majestés, le Roi et la Reine des Belges. Le Dimanche 14 Novembre. Sous la Présidence de Son Ex le Cardinal Amette, à 2 heures. Vêpres. Discours par le Révérend Père Janvier. Salut Solennel. &c, &c. Place réservée."

You know Notre Dame de Paris and on that day it was as though one went back through Time to the Middle Ages,---back to the thirteenth Century. The week preceding this fête day had been one of terrible strain; there had been little sleep during the nights and for all of us the first compelling power of a great world movement had passed and 'endurance' was the one word that had come to express what was most needed. Emotions had long been transmuted into service and those who worked together had forgotten everything but the work. The Rector and I had been asked to arrange with the Ambassador and Mrs. Sharp for their attendance at the fête. This was a pleasure that brought its measure of anxiety for "being on time" was not of paramount importance to them. However, that day it had been arranged and we were at the great portals just at the moment we were expected, exactly quarter to three o'clock.

The day was chill and grey; the Seine ran swiftly under the bridges and great crowds stood in the open square before the Church; the Stars and Stripes, the Tricolor and the Scarlet, Gold and Black of Belgium hung from all the nearby windows and after a very few moments, at the portal, the doors swung open and we were within the Church. Can't you see the lights on the Altar, away in the distance so far that they look like fire-flies? The Church is packed with people, every gallery, every corner where one could sit or stand. The shadows are velvety and deepest brown and there was the sound of a violin accompanying a singer's voice. Just within the door stood His Excellency(13) M. Dumaine and beside him two tall men in the ancient costume of the Swiss guards. Thus received and accompanied, we went down the aisle, keeping step to the measured beat of the guards' great staff. Our places were directly in front of the pulpit and those seated within a certain radius rose to meet America in the person of her Ambassador. The Rector went back to the place where we were seated and of course I could not turn around to see where he had gone, although I wanted to most awfully. People were dressed in the simplest of toilets, mostly black and every one wore some badge of mourning for the soldier dead. In a few moments Père Janvier entered the pulpit. He looked like a figure carved in old ivory and the slanting lights touched him very softly during the hour when his voice became for all who heard him the voice of the lovers of Honour and of Liberty. When he first entered the pulpit he stood quietly waiting while Cardinal Amette and the clergy came down the long aisle.

The Cardinal is greatly beloved in Paris and there was almost a murmur of affectionate greeting as he passed on his way. He, too, went back of us and still I could not turn around and then I forgot all about him until the preacher ended his sermon, white and exhausted with the fervor of his words. We all rose as His Eminence rose, stopping to speak to the King's representative, saluting the Diplomatic Corps present, giving his blessing to our little Committee and going again through the shadowed spaces to the Altar where the lights still glowed. Then the collection was taken by a number of ladies whom the Duchesse de Vendôme had asked to assist her in that task and a great triumphal chorus began to sing.

Following the King's representative and a group of wounded Belgian officers and soldiers we went slowly out into the twilight and the mist. The comments we heard were most unexpected and enlightening.

"Not in a century have we seen so many great ones together."

"God bless their Majesties and the soldiers. Ah! they keep their breeding, these Royalists. France can afford them. They cost the Republic nothing. Vive l'Amérique!"

We were on our way home again. The collection was over ten thousand francs and every penny of it was spent by L'Oeuvre du Soldat Belge meeting in the Sacristy of the American Church of the Holy Trinity. Oh, yes, to be sure, you want to know where the Rector had gone. Well! he was seated on a raised platform and when Cardinal Amette took his seat just before Père Janvier began to preach, the Rector of Holy Trinity Church was at his right, his Chaplain at his left.

There is no better time than this in which to tell you of the visit Prince Borghese (now dead), one of the Pope's Chamberlains, to the Presbytère in Paris. His wife was an aunt of the Prince Caraman Chimay whose home is next to Holy Trinity Church in Paris. Prince Borghese requested an interview with the Rector not only once but twice and said he was sent to find out what sort of a religion and Church it was that ministered to those of all Creeds and to those of none and to the needy of every race. The Prince was a slender man of medium height, with dark and very observing eyes. His wide black satin tie was like the one in my grandfather's portrait; he had slim, almost thin, feet and most expressive hands. The first time that he came he spent nearly three hours and the talk was steady, all of it in French. I have always adored hearing men "discuss" and my husband's study has never lacked men who talked of worth-while things. Nearly thirty years ago in the University town of Iowa City men used to come and ask the same questions as Prince Borghese asked. The Rector was very young but even when he was learning to state truth in the language of his day.

"May I ask plain questions?" said the Prince.

"All you desire, Monseigneur, if the same privilege be accorded me."

At the end of the last interview the Prince turned with both hands outstretched to the Rector, a lovely look of understanding on his face and said,

"Monsieur, entre vous et moi le mot Catholique et Protestant n'existe pas; nous sommes des frères." (14)

All the world knows how King Albert led his people and was with his soldiers in the trenches, but few realize how deeply his actions touched the hearts of the Belgian people. M. Maurice Romberg is a Belgian artist, co-collegian of King Albert, and his wife who is French by birth, was an active and devoted worker for Belgium and for her native land. M. Romberg painted a water color picture of King Albert, "fusil" in hand standing with the soldiers in a trench. The original picture was given to France and the money gained from the sale of photographs of the picture was given to L'Oeuvre du Soldat Belge.

M. Romberg made a number of colored lithographs of the now famous painting, doing all the labor himself and really almost making them watercolors, so painstaking was he. The first print was given to us, the second to the King, the third to the King's sister.

The day on which M. Romberg brought the picture to us was a sunny one. He came by appointment at about two o'clock: a tall, slender man with a pointed brown beard and in his artist hands carrying the picture of the King. With him came the Governor-General of Belgium, General-Major Frans in his general's uniform, his white hair and spare figure reminding us that he had retired some time before the outbreak of the war and that he had when Belgium was invaded at once offered his services to his King and his country, services to be accepted without compensation.

It was a wonderful visit to receive, for both men were deeply moved and offered their homage through the Rector to American Christianity. After the personal visit was ended we went into the Church and General-Major Frans, (who is a devout Catholic) went to the Chancel rail, kneeling there for a quarter of an hour. Rainbow colors from the great east window touched his sword as he knelt and for us who waited the General typified in his own person the Belgian soldier whose valor matched his country's honor. He said to us before he left,

"Our people, our army, will never forget how God has blessed us in permitting us to be comforted and helped from this Holy Place."

Madame Frans was actively at work in the hospital at La Panne and her spirit is best expressed in her own words,

"I have little to carry to the dear lads each day, but I give them all my heart with my little dainties, an affectionate word and a comforting gesture and I love best those most injured. One of my little French men has lost two legs, one has lost two arms and then there is my brother's only son, twenty-one years old, and blind. All the unhappy ones have become my children and I try to make them think their dear Mothers have come to pet them."

"When we sent a box of gifts for these men, it included a watch which my husband got for the blind boy and a wonderful arrangement which Miss Gassette had invented whereby the man without arms could smoke his pipe or cigarette in comparative comfort.

"July 14, 1916, we received the following letter,

"'The General-Major Frans is happy to express to Dr. and Mrs. Watson all his gratitude for all the generous gifts given to L'Oeuvre du Soldat Belge. Belgium, so bitterly oppressed as well as the Belgian soldier who fights for Right and Justice, will never forget the immediate succour that has come from the citizens of free America.'"

 

"Brand Whitlock." You really can't write it any other way, for so every one thinks of him and no one needs to be told what his experiences were since they have been written in detail for you by his own hand. Men like him represent America's heart. His Excellency and Mrs. Whitlock were in Paris in April, 1917, and the Rector and I were invited to meet them at the Embassy.

Mr. and Mrs. Penfield were also guests of honor that day, Mr. Penfield having just been recalled from Austria. We had met them at luncheon at Mr. Tuck's house the day before. The Rector had known Mr. Penfield when the former was a student in college in Hartford, Connecticut, and the latter was a brilliant young newspaper man. Mr. Penfield was very ambassadorial, but it was becoming and we all liked him. When we entered the Embassy Drawing Room the first person of whom we caught a glimpse was Mrs. Burrill (Mr. Sharp's mother). Mrs. Burrill, sitting at the tea table with a group of people, lent an intimate and needed note to the somewhat large and bare apartment. There was a bright fire on the hearth and near it, his hands stretched out toward the blaze, stood "Brand Whitlock," his grey trousers and Prince Albert coat accenting his tall figure and his greying hair. When he turned to speak to us my heart grew weary, for he looked like a man who had died and could not yet claim his rest in Paradise. You knew how tired, beyond all telling, he was and yet he smiled and was courteously interested in the little gathering about him. There were not over forty guests present and one of them was Mrs. John Munroe. Mrs. John Munroe is the sort of woman who makes you think that whatever age she may be is the age you would like to be and she has long been the "butterfly" of the American colony in Paris. How she helped on that afternoon, saying just the right thing and adding a ripple of gaiety to our seriousness. Throughout all the war she was generous and never too serious even when she broke down with strain and fatigue.

The day after the Embassy tea I went to the Ritz Hotel at about ten in the morning and there I met Mrs. Whitlock who was to go with me to call upon the Duchesse d'Ursel, widow of the Duc who was for many years the head of the Belgian Senate.

Mrs. Whitlock is "little and dear." When we were in the car and going across the Place de la Concorde, I found her exceedingly nervous; so I said,

"Madame! Gabriel (our chauffeur) is the best chauffeur in Paris so you need not be uneasy with all these cars flying in different directions."

"I am not really afraid," she answered, "but it is so long since I have seen anything but German military cars and our own car with its American flag that I am bewildered."

I did not ask her any questions but just told her about the Duchesse and her connections in France. We were soon at the Count de Francqueville's house in the rue Barbet-de-Jouy. At the outset of the war he had been for eighteen months a civil prisoner in Germany taken from his Château de Bourlon near Cambrai, without even a chance to bid an adieu to his wife. His house in Paris was home to many of his relatives and friends during the war.

Those of you who remember old Paris know the part of the city still sacred to the most exclusive of the old aristocracy of France and one of the streets in this quarter is the rue Barbet-de-Jouy. The car stopped in front of two great green doors (with brass pulls and knockers) let into a yellow brick wall. Gabriel rang for admittance and the doors flew open, for we were expected, and we went at once through the courtyard and into the house. You may step on your magic carpet and come with us if you are very quiet. The Duchesse was waiting to receive us, the skirt of her black dress trailing softly behind her as she came forward with outstretched hands, over her shoulders a little black cashmere shawl, her delicate cheeks flushed with emotion. I asked her what time I should return or send the car for Mrs. Whitlock, knowing that the coming interview must be a very personal and moving one; but the Duchesse would not let me go.

"Your heart has always been with us, you are one of our own and you must stay while this dear lady tells me of Brussels and of my family."

So we sat in front of the fire, the fire that had been lighted just when we came. Two exquisite screens made a little shelter about our chairs and the portraits on the walls seemed listening as we listened to Mrs. Whitlock's voice. What she said I may not tell you, but equally also I will never forget that Mrs. Whitlock is "little and dear." She told me, as we drove homeward, that the silent farewell of the crowds as they left Brussels was almost beyond their power to bear.

While we are speaking of Ambassadors I am reminded to tell you of meeting Mr. and Mrs. Gerard when they came to Paris en route for America. They also were guests in whose honor we were invited to tea at the Embassy. We went in quite late and found every one in the dining room. Miss Margaret Sharp and her graceful young sister Effie and Mr. George Sharp whom everybody liked and admired were helping to serve the goûter. Mrs. Gerard wore a black dress and a big black hat and happily found herself amongst old friends as well as new ones. Mr. Gerard looked somehow much more modern American in type than did Mr. Whitlock and that the type of our business man who knows what he wants to do and when he means to do it. They were sailing for home from a Spanish port and knowing the dangers of the way for them, we were glad when the announcement of their safe arrival reached France. The Rector said to Mr. Gerard,

Ambassadors quite naturally do not commit themselves for quotation and the answer was,

"Do you think that any one would regret such a declaration?"

The immediate and pressing need for the soldiers and really for the Hospitals was past; hundreds of hands were busy everywhere helping and at this time our Oeuvre formed a new section for its work and founded the "Section Américaine des Orphelins Belges de la Guerre." For more than a year the work of this section was carried on from Paris. Its methods are exactly those of the Fatherless Children of France but its funds are now administered wholly by the Committee in Belgium. Baron de Steenhault of Nagelmakers, Fils et Cie, is its banker in Brussels and the Count and Countess du Parc give their time and care to all administrative questions, assisted by General-Major Frans and the Duchesse d'Ursel now resident in Brussels. Just after the signing of the Armistice the active work of the Oeuvre was transferred from Paris to Brussels, and with the unqualified approval of the Government, it went on with its work of assisting Belgian Orphans.

The last annual meeting we held in Paris was on February 25th, 1918 and was the Oeuvre's third annual meeting held in the Sacristy of Holy Trinity Church. The meeting was presided over by S. A. R. Madame la Duchesse de Vendôme. For four winters and three summers we had all worked together and in all that time there had been no ripple of discord and nothing but absolute, simple-hearted devotion to those in need. On this last meeting M. Wolfers read his Treasurer's report. In the history kept for America is the report of His Excellency M. Dumaine, he whose fidelity had not failed us through all the agony of his personal sorrows. We could not copy what he said to us personally except just this:

"It is infinitely agreeable to me to be the interpreter of the profound gratitude of the Comité with which is joined that of many unknown voices far and near, the voices of all our brave soldiers recomforted. The six first months of need in our army was immense; all that terrible winter our supplies went regularly to the Front and oh! how impatiently awaited. Appeals came to us from every side and before the year was ended the poor prisoners were also our care. . .

It is still our duty to continue to be a part of our soldiers' life to the end of hostilities, still to help as our Commandants du Corps think wise and why need we question how we shall meet any need that comes to us.

Fides certior ratione
Faith is stronger than reason

So we merge our old task into the new one, every member of the Comité finding sufficient recompense in that each one shares the honor of having given a good example."

(Signed) ALFRED DUMAINE.

It was on this day of our Comité's reunion that my husband and I received a parchment whose design was made by King Albert's sister. It testifies to the gratitude of Belgium for help given in America's name and on it in brave color is our American flag with that of France and Belgium, for each flag a palm.

I must just remind you that there were a number of Belgian Hospitals in France and oh! what a comfort they were to the soldier who knew only his own tongue. In the Belgian Hospital in Paris there were some Flemish nurses but the presiding genius of the place was the Countess Liederkirke, who is as capable as she is gentle.

There were two Belgian Hospitals at Cannes under the supervision of Lady Waterlow. These hospitals were supported by a group of Philadelphia women. I have no words with which to tell you of the clean, sweet peace of these hospitals, with what care and economy they were managed and of how much of the labor needed for their upkeep was given by the men themselves.

As week after week and month after month passed we heard most dreadful stories of agony and suspense and we heard them with ever deepening and increasing respect and affection for the people who could endure so bravely. We heard them, too, with an increasing realization that God does not let us suffer beyond a certain point. Either we go to our long rest, or we turn back to the things that are eternally comforting---a long, sunny day, the song of a bird, the welcoming of a friend, the sound of running water---and what is eternity in the making is no longer our immediate concern.

We have a copy of "La Libre Belgique" published in February, 1916 and on it is printed,

"Depuis un an déjà je te cherche nuit et jour,(15)
Petite abhorée, tu m'échappes toujours."

It must have roused the fury of the enemy to be taunted and forever defeated by "La Libre Belgique." Paul Deschanel writes for numéro 62, of date February, 1916, as follows:

"Regardons les tranchées. Oui, c'est notre soldat qui, à 80 kilomètres de Paris, se sent vainqueur; c'est lui qui a raison, a parce que, en tenant, il use l'ennemi; il permet à l'Angleterre et à la Russie de lever de nouvelles armées et aux Alliés de fermer à l'Allemagne, par une entente économique étroite, une grande partie des marchés du globe. C'est lui, dont l'indomptable constance, faite de bravoure, de bon sens et d'esprit, à la fin, vaincra la force.

Il y a un peu plus d'un siècle, après la campagne de Russie, Napoléon était avec Fontanes dans le parc de Fontainebleau. L'ombre descendait sur sa fortune. Saisissant le bras de son ministre dans un accès de mélancolie: "Savez-vous, lui dit-il, ce que j'admire le plus en ce monde? C'est l'impuissance de la force matérielle. A la longue, le sabre est vaincu par l'idée."

Ce que disait le conquérant à l'heure ou sa puissance démesurément accrue fléchissait, nous pouvons le redire aujourd'hui: La force est limitée et périssable, comme la matière; la justice est immortelle comme le génie de la France."

PAUL DESCHANEL.(16)

It was in 1916, just on the eve of my birthday, that one of the loveliest things you have ever seen came to me. We were so touched by the gift and the exquisite sentiment brought out in it that its intrinsic beauty was the last thing we noted.

The gift was a lace cloth for my tea table and is about a yard square. In the center the Lion of Flanders and the Royal Crown. The words "Reconnaissance" and "Herzele" are wrought in the border and with them the dates 1914-15 and 1916. At the three corners of this border are charming heads of children and at the fourth corner is my own personal chiffre and the device of my family. Around this again is a band of hand-woven linen inwrought with lace stars ("the stars of your dear flag") and beyond all this a border of priceless lace.

How it was made and taken out of Flanders and brought to Paris in the midst of the war, I cannot tell you but it was Herzele's gift and Herzele is the village to which my husband sent part of your gifts of money all through the war; and our possibility of service to that village came on the day our work for Belgium began when the Countess Chérisey came to luncheon with us.

From the very first the young Count Frédéric de Villers had been one of our Belgian Officer friends. His family lived in the district of Namur and his sister, the Viscountess de Sousberghe, has written us many letters telling of the suffering there and of the desolation at Conjoux. She herself had come with her little children, a refugee to Paris.

Perhaps you will read some day the Count's letters, the stories of the first fearful battles and of how we grieved for all who loved him---that all through the war he should have been spared to represent his country's youth at the front and then---that just before the Armistice was signed he should have fallen. He never came to see us that he did not spend a little time in the Church itself. When he fell, he was rescuing one of the men of his company and he went down, "face to the enemy."

With the memory of Frédéric de Villers must always be placed that of Vicomte Raphael du Parc, who was a second lieutenant wearing the same decorations as his cousin had worn. He fell at Dixmude in March, 1918. His father and mother were in Belgium at Herzele Notre Dame where their château is situated and there they remained through the war and from there his mother wrote this letter when the war was just begun:

"He has been magnificent, our King! In one day all our young men rose and were ready. Poor and rich,---they never hesitated. Those are never-to-be-forgotten hours. God! help us."

The Countess du Parc had inherited her mother's château. She was La Baronne Van de Woestyne Liedekirke, for many years Lady of Honor to Queen Henriette and the Empress Carlotta. She was loved and revered beyond most women of her time. Her youngest daughter was the Countess René de Chérisey, our co-worker in Paris. The entire family have always stood for what is best in religion, education and society in their country and they are as modest as they are patriotic.

Difficult as communications were, from time to time a message would reach our faithful co-worker and her messages came to us, letters full of heartbreaking stories and always, too, with a note of high courage and faith.

From 1914 to 1919 money gifts of our American friends were put to work right in German occupied Belgium where the need was most bitter. Frédéric de Villers and Raphael du Parc, young, knightly like Launcelot, were of those who were numbered with the dead.

Raphael du Parc's last visit had been to us, his last letter one of thanks for American gifts to his soldiers:

"I hardly know which to thank you for most, what you have done for our soldiers, or for our dear village or for us, for your help has saved my brother's and father's reason."

November 13, 1918. Countess du Parc to her sister:

"Free since thirty-six hours. It is the first time I have written the word. We are dizzy with joy."

December the fourth is my own dear father's birthday and lovely things always seem to cluster around it. On December 4, 1918 there was written to us from Herzele the following letter:

"The first lines which I am permitted to write after our deliverance are due to you; for whilst all the bells of the churches of our village rocked in their towers to sing us out the news of the armistice, if then our first thought was for God who gave us back Peace, our next thoughts flew to you who have seemed to us His messengers on earth. Perhaps it seems too much that I should say again to you that we owe you everything. Those who have felt themselves on the verge of losing everything, life and reason and liberty, dare to make use of, by changing it a little, the beautiful saying of Lacordaire "Gratitude never repeats itself even though it says the same thing over again." For while your great nation was saving our home land, your own generous hearts took under their protection this poor little forgotten corner of Belgium where so many, O so many bitter needs have been supplied, and so many sorrows made lighter by your help. I say it without hesitation: the war had stripped us of every possibility of giving personal aid to our unhappy people and to have had to stay amongst them all this while, witness to their sufferings, yet powerless to help them, would have broken our hearts. This distress God spared us and miraculously guided you to our relief. You know we have had the sorrow of losing our adored son, struck down in the accomplishment of his duty. In the last lines he wrote us, a few days before his death, he spoke of his pleasure at being your guest in Paris, and of the joy it was to him to express to you the gratitude of Herzele. It really seemed as if God wanted to grant him this last consolation of being the spokesman of his village, which he so loved, to you, its friends and his.

"And in thought of all this I cannot but say to you that, for us, the Peace is not a joy but only the end of a torment; and that this liberty, which our children have bought at the price of their lives, so dear, we receive it from their hands, on our knees, as in life's sanctuary.

"Forgive the length of this letter; it expresses but imperfectly that which we feel and I beg you on behalf of my husband and myself to believe, always to believe in our heartfelt and grateful friendship. . .

"WOESTYNE DU PARC."

The lovely little Belgian Princesse Marie José had been staying in England and was brought over to LaPanne to spend a few days with the King and the Queen who were living in a modest villa. The story goes that a little bed had been arranged for the Princesse in the Queen's dressing room. When she saw it she asked,

"Is this where I am to sleep?"

"Yes," was the answer.

"Oh!" said the little Princesse, whose lovely city and Palace the enemy King had stolen, "oh! how very poor we have become."

You read, a little while ago, how Napoleon had said, "The idea conquers the sword." Now, under Napoleon's great triumphal arch comes the King who has proved anew the absolute truth of these words. The day is one of those opal days in Paris, more beautiful than sunlight, with little fleecy clouds above the grey houses, the floating flags and the crowds of people. We were with Mr. and Mrs. Tuck for luncheon and after luncheon a number of our friends came in for coffee while we all waited for the King, Mrs. Wharton, M. and Madame Hovelacque with Beatrice and Pierre, Mrs. Ralph Hickox, Mrs. Ingraham, M. d'Estournelles de Constant and a number more. The long, windows were open on all the balconies. The treasures of tapestry and faience which usually adorned the rooms were still in safe hiding, but there were flowers everywhere. Best of all, the friends who had so long worked together were together now to pay honor to the King and Queen. To the right as we looked toward the great Arch there was a sea of faces, patient men and women and little children standing just back of the mounted troops; every balcony, window and roof was solid with waiting groups and then suddenly there was a sound of music. Cheer after cheer, one flutter of white handkerchiefs as the procession came out upon the splendid avenue.

The cheering swelled and suddenly was hushed. The white handkerchiefs were used to dry the tears that the emotions of the hour made to flow. The wonder and the beauty of that brief hour can never be forgotten by any one who saw it. All the chivalry, all the honour, all the tender service that the world had dreamed of was typified as the King and Queen rode by and we turned to watch them going toward the Place de la Concorde. A little mist began to fall tears for the sorrows of the world that was paying almost reverent homage to their Majesties. The music dies away in the distance, the horses' hoofs beat faintly farther and farther away, the lances with their scarlet and white pennants narrowed to a shining line, the people broke again into cheers and Belgium's glory crowned and acknowledged, took its place in the pages of the world's history.

Serbia
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