War Days in Brittany — Edition Insights

hand or street cleaner? Perhaps an Apache? I do not know. But he gave all he had—his young life! Surely he has gone to his reward.

Dinard, November, 1914.

There are four thousand wounded in Dinard this winter, and the need for chemises, antiseptic cotton, sacks and bandages, never diminishes. I, fortunately, have a few things left from what I brought over, and I am dealing them out, as if worth their weight in gold. Socks are much appreciated, as many are wounded in the feet, and cannot put on slippers or shoes. One poor wretched Belgian hospital has depended all the winter on what we gave them. The Matron told me but for us they would have had nothing. She has been up two or three times since my return begging socks, chemises and slippers, but, alas, I had none to give her! She said the men were obliged to stay in their rooms or beds as their uniforms were so dirty, torn, and shot-riddled, they had to be repaired, and, having nothing else to wear, they had to stay in hospital. I went by there the other day, a glorious sunny summer afternoon, and I saw such poor, white faces looking out so longingly, so young, and so suffering—mere boys of twenty, twenty-two and twenty-four.

I hate to say too much about the sorrowing and suffering over here—so much has been given, especially from America, where the generosity has been overwhelming. One cannot see such wistfulness and patience without finding a renewal of sympathy and a wish to help.

I was notified last week, that on Saturday, July 10th, at 4 o'clock, the Prefet of our department (the governor of the state) will come to Val Fleuri, officially, in full uniform, surrounded by his staff, to thank us in the name of France, for what we have obtained from our friends in America, and to express through us the Government's grateful recognition of America's generosity. French people tell me it is a rare honor which the government is showing us, and is an expression of France's gratitude to America. The Prefet asked for a report (which we sent), and the government has perfect cognizance from whence came our supplies. So that you may be sure that full recognition has been made for the shipments.

Many wounded there are always, but the spirit of the French people is magnificent. No sacrifice is too great to make, no economy too severe. All France has the utmost confidence in the soldiers and their generals, and everyone feels it is time for endurance, economy and work. And all, high and low, rich and poor, are putting their hearts and courage into the affair, with an enthusiasm and devotion quite surprising to those who thought of France as a decadent nation.

Yesterday I met at tea a French duchess, last year the most frivolous and worldly person, always dressed in the height of fashion and devoted to golf, bridge, and motoring. Yesterday she was dressed in a cheap, ready-made black serge suit, with a black straw sailor hat, trimmed with a black taffeta bow, such as a poor little governess or an upper housemaid would have worn a year ago. And she said she was proud to wear the costume, bought ready-made at the "Galleries Lafayette" for 50 francs.

She has had a hospital in her chateau since the war began, where one hundred little Pious-Pious have been taken care of and nursed back to health, and, alas, to a quick return to the trenches! So she said she had no money "pour la toilette."

What these French women are doing is beyond praise. A sober, quiet determination has taken the place of their erstwhile frivolity. And when one sees delicately nurtured ladies doing the most ordinary menial work in the hospitals, not day by day, but month by month, rising at 7 a. m., and only returning home for meals and bed at 8.30 p. m.—women who in former times thought of nothing but extravagance, luxury and display—one realizes that there is good, red blood left in France, and the Gallic strain, having supported the trials of centuries, is still able to make a stand for justice and freedom.