WAR AND PEACE These Latter Days By Olive Tilford Dargan (From "Path Flower.'') Take down thy stars, O God! We look not up. Nor care if blood make strong that wizard wine, Of conquest in our veins, of wits grown keen What though the soul be from the body shrunk, What though the cup of golden greed once drunk, While thy loud hosts proclaim the end of wars? Breeding Machines By Marion Craig Wentworth (From "War Brides,' a drama of protest, popularized by the Russian actress, Nazimova.) HOFFMAN: When we are gone-the best of us,—what will the country do if it has no children? HEDWIG: Why didn't you think of that before?-before you started this wicked war? HOFFMAN-I tell you it is a glory to be a war bride. There! HEDWIG (with a shrug): A breeding machine! (They all draw back). Why not call it what it is? Speak the naked truth for once? HOFFMAN: That isn't the question now. We are going away-the best of us-to be shot, most likely. Don't you suppose we want to send some part of ourselves into the future, since we can't live ourselves? There, that's straight; and right, too. HEDWIG: What I said-to breed a soldier for the empire; to restock the land. (Fiercely). And for what? For food for the next generation's cannon. Oh, it is an insult to our womanhood! You violate all that makes marriage sacred! (Agitated, she walks about the room). Are we women never to get up out of the dust? You never asked us if we wanted this war, yet you ask us to gather in the crops, cut the wood, keep the world going, drudge and slave, and wait, and agonize, lose our all, and go on bearing more men-and more-to be shot down! If we breed the men for you, why don't you let us say what is to become of them? Do we want them shot-the very breath of our life? HOFFMAN: It is for the fatherland. HEDWIG: You use us, and use us,-dolls, beasts of burden, and you expect us to bear it forever dumbly; but I won't! I shall cry out till I die. And now you say it almost out loud, "Go and breed for the empire." War brides! Pah! HOFFMAN: I never would dream of speaking to Amelia like that. She is the sweetest girl I have seen for many a day. HEDWIG: What will happen to Amelia? Have you thought of that? No; I warrant you haven't. Well, look. A few kisses and sweet words, the excitement of the ceremony, the cheers of the crowd, some days of living together, I won't call it marriage, for Franz and I are the ones who know what real marriage is, and how sacred it is, then what? Before you know it, an order to march. No husband to Think of her What kind of a wait with her, to watch over her. anxiety if she learns to love you. Ichild will it be? Look at me. What kind of a child would I have, do you think? I can hardly breathe for thinking of my Franz, waiting, never knowing from minute to minute. From the way I feel, I should think my child would be born mad, I'm that wild with worrying. And then for Amelia to go through the agony alone! No husband to help her through the terrible hour. What solace can the state give then? And after that, if you don't come back, who is going to earn the bread for her child? Struggle and struggle to feed herself and her child; and the fine-sounding name you trick us with-war-bride! Humph! That will all be forgotten then. Only one thing can make it worth while, and do you know what that is? Love! We'll struggle through fire and water for that, but without it. . . . Babies Bred for War (In "Everyman.'') By Mary Field Said Prince Bismarck with a shrug of his shoulder to a comment on the great number of men killed in one of the Franco-Prussian battles, "Oh, well, we will have another crop in twenty years!" It is crops of men that governments depend upon. At the outbreak of the war the military nations of Europe took immediate steps to provide for the next crop of soldiers. Before the ranks mobolized the seed of warriors was sown. In Germany all soldiers were urged to marry before leaving for the front. In many churches hundreds of couples were married simultaneously that no time might be lost. One of the Emperor's own sons set the example which thousands of marriageable men immediately followed. In some villages "holy matrimony" was recognized as the equivalent of an engagement. Everywhere throughout the fatherland distinctions between legitimate and illegitimate have become indistinct. An illegitimate son receives the support of the government. To bear children for the fatherland is of greater virtue than that they shall be born of wedlock, for thrones are greater than altars and exigencies greater than ceremonies. France says little and does much. She is proud; she is heroic; she fights on.. But the heart and life of France is being crushed. It is impossible to see this and do nothing. I offer my services as assistant nurse at the American ambulance and am accepted. . . On the second morning as I hurry down a long Then hospital corridor I see a familiar face. A short, darkhaired, dark-eyed young man is coming toward me. He is one of the wounded and his right arm is gone. His eye catches mine. He stops bewildered. comes recognition. It is Zeni Peshkoff-Maxim Gorki's adopted son. Eight years ago when this man was a boy I had known him in America. I grasp the left hand, and my eyes drop before the empty right sleeve. But Zeni Peshkoff is still gay, laughing Zeni. He makes light of his trouble. Not until later do I understand the terrible suffering there is from the missing arm or realize how he struggles to use what is not. Peshkoff had been in the trenches for months. He had been through battles and bayonet charges and escaped unhurt, but at last his day had come. A bursting shell destroyed the right arm. He knew the danger, and struggling to his feet, walked from the battlefield. With the left hand he supported the bleeding, broken right arm. As he stumbled back past trenches full of German prisoners his plight was so pitiful, his pluck so great, that instinctively these men saluted. At the Place de Secours eight hundred wounded had been brought in. There were accommodations for one hundred and fifty. All night young Peshkoff lay unattended, for there were others worse hurt. Gangrene developed, and he watched it spread from fingers to hand and from hand to arm. In the morning a friendly lieutenant noticed him. "There's one chance," he said, "and that's a hospital. If you can walk, come with me." Slowly young Peshkoff arose. Half fainting |