Memories grave and gay

by Florence Howe Hall

We elders now have a new incentive to work with all our strength while it is yet day for us. This summer I visited Camp Merryweather, where sister Laura aids her husband in conducting a delightful place of sojourn for forty boys. Of the sons whose help they have had in former years one had gone as a soldier to France, the other and the sons-in-law were attending drill and caring for war gardens. Upon the older generation came the care and responsibility of the summer’s work and play. Never have I seen them more resolute and courageous! No word was said of added duties, but in their manner one could see a determination to do their bit and to do it valiantly! Sister Laura’s relaxation will be to go on a “grandmothering tour” to see her dozen grandchildren.

In this twentieth century, and especially in war-time, the public and private duties of women sometimes conflict. We want very, very much to go to some inspiring meeting on a day when we are needed at home. It is best to give the latter the benefit of the doubt, when we feel any. Yet we must sometimes go forth to gain inspiration, in order to give it out again. The woman who stays always at home from a mistaken sense of duty is in danger of becoming a dull drudge. The mother of sons and daughters must, in these stirring times, teach them to have the love of freedom, the public spirit, necessary for the salvation of our Republic.

She must take her share, too, in labors for the welfare of our native land and for the comfort and protection of its brave defenders. If we fail to do our part it may happen that no homes will be left us to care for!

We return to them from work for the Red Cross or other civic service, with renewed delight in children and grandchildren, with renewed ability to minister to their welfare, both spiritual and material!

It is delightful to be able to help the boys and girls with those dreadful mathematical problems and with the Latin authors, who in a world turned topsy-turvy, remain always the same.

To give my little granddaughters lessons upon the piano has been my great pleasure.

Countless women are now called upon to make the supreme sacrifice, to give up the sons and daughters dearer to them than life, to the dreadful Minotaur who devours hecatombs of youths and maidens. It is the duty of every mother to prepare herself for that ordeal, so that she may not hesitate to send her best-beloved, if the summons comes to her, as it has come to thousands.

Terrible as are these years, their darkness is brightened by the light of a self-sacrifice unparalleled in the history of mankind. We could not bear the thought of those hideous trenches and of the awful destruction of human life, if they had not shown us such splendid examples of courage, devotion, self-immolation. These are wonderful days to live in, despite all the horrors of the time. The young men going forward so bravely into the mouth of hell, dying in defense of their ideals and ours, seem to us like a consecrated army, like beings set apart from their fellow-men. We have talked about freedom; we have been full of enthusiasm. But they have gone quietly forward, to suffer tortures and, if need be, to lay down their lives. They are the heroes of the hour, beside whom the rest of the world seem suddenly to have shrunken into nothingness.

Yet we must not forget that America, like England, expects every man, civilian as well as soldier, to do his duty, and every woman likewise. The power of a democracy is built up of the strength of each individual life. Let us give our brave soldiers their full meed of admiration, let us support and uphold them in every possible way. But we must not be so dazzled by their gallant deeds as to worship, like Germany, a military autocracy. It is our duty to remember, and to help them to remember, that among civilized nations war is temporary and abnormal, while peace is normal and eternal. The first means destruction, the last means construction. In the midst of peace we must prepare for war, that haply we may avert it. In the midst of war we have the double duty of upholding our armies to the utmost extent of our ability and at the same time making ready for the righteous peace which we know must come. We must bind up the wounds of the warriors and restore the devastated lands. We must prepare to return, when the right time comes, to quiet, every-day life. We shall still wage war, not against the bodies of men, but against ignorance, greed, corruption, evil of all kinds. For Satan, whom before the great European convulsion we hopefully thought to be dead, is evidently very much alive. At each new atrocity we have seemed to hear the wings of Apollyon, Prince of Darkness, rustling in the air, as he dealt foul blows at the struggling Christian.

We have had a horrible glimpse of hell! The sight must convince us that the devoted labor of every one of us is needed to prevent the overthrow of the ideals of civilization! The hideous doctrine that might makes right, that crafty murder, “leaving no trace behind,” treacherous intrigue and shameless lying, are the proper occupation for “gentlemen” must be combated not by arms alone, but by the upholding of the high ideals of our own country. The memory of heroic deeds, of noble sayings, is the most precious inheritance of mankind. We who are now living have been inspired by it, we have held our course guided by its light, however much we may have stumbled on the way and fallen short of our ideals.