Chapter 10 V ToC 10

THE LAST JOURNEY

My car turned up at Hamadan on March 9th, and on the 13th I said good-bye to my friends at the Consulate, and left the place with a Tartar prince, who cleared his throat from the bottom of his soul, and spat luxuriously all the time. The mud was beyond anything that one could imagine. There was a sea of it everywhere, and men waded knee-deep in slush. My poor car floundered bravely and bumped heavily, till at last it could move no more. Two wheels were sunk far past the hubs, and the step of the car was under mud.

The Tartar prince hailed a horse from some men and flung himself across it, and then rode off through the thick sea of mud to find help to move the car. His methods were simple. He came up behind men, and clouted them over the head, or beat them with a stick, and drove them in front of him. Sometimes he took out a revolver and fired over the men's heads, making them jump; but nothing makes them really work. We pushed on for a mile or two, and then stuck again. This time there were no men near, and the prince walked on to collect some soldiers at the next station. It was a wicked, blowy day, and I crept into a wrecked "camion" and sheltered there, and ate some lunch and slept a little. I wasn't feeling a bit well.

That night we only made twenty miles, and then we put up at a little rest-house, where the woman had ten children. They all had colds, and coughed all the time. She promised supper at 8 o'clock, but kept us waiting till 10 p.m., and then a terrible repast of batter appeared in a big tin dish, and everyone except me ate it, and everyone drank my wine. Then six children and their parents lay in one tiny room, and I and a nurse occupied the hot supper-room, and thus we lay until the cold morning came, and I felt very ill.

So the day began, and it did not improve. I was sick all the time until I could neither think nor see. The poor prince could do nothing, of course.

ILLNESS AT KASVIN

At last we came to a rest-house, and I felt I could go no further. I was quite unconscious for a time. Then they told me it was only two hours to Kasvin, and somehow they got me on board the motor-car, and the horrible journey began again. Every time the car bumped I was sick. Of course we punctured a tyre, which delayed us, and when we got into Kasvin it was 9 o'clock. The Tartar lifted me out of the car, and I had been told that I might put up at a room belonging to Dr. Smitkin, but where it was I had no idea, and I knew there would be no one there. So I plucked up courage to go to the only English people in the place-the Goodwins, with whom I had stayed on my way up-and ask for a bed. This I did, and they let me spread my camp-bed in his little sitting-room. I was ill indeed, and aching in every bone.

The next day I had to go to Smitkin's room. It was an absolutely bare apartment, but someone spread my bed for me, and there were some Red Cross nurses who all offered to do things. The one thing I wanted was food, and this they could only get at the soldiers' mess two miles away. So all I had was one tin of sweet Swiss milk. The day after this I decided I must quit, whatever happened, and get to Tehran, where there are hotels. After one night there I was taken to a hospital. I was alone in Persia, in a Russian hospital, where few people even spoke French!

On March 19th an English doctor rescued me. He heard I was ill, and came to see me, and took me off to be with his wife at his own home at the Legation. I shall never forget it as long as I live-the blessed change from dirty glasses and tin basins and a rocky bed! What does illness matter with a pretty room, and kindness showered on one, and everything clean and fragrant? I have a little sitting-room, where my meals are served, and I have a fire, a bath, and a garden to sit in.

God bless these good people!

* * *

To Lady Clémentine Waring.

British Legation, Tehran,

22 March.

Darling Clemmie,

A LETTER FROM TEHRAN

I am coming home, having fallen sick. Do you know, I was thinking about you so much the other night, for you told me that if ever I was really "down and out" you would know. So I wondered if, about a week ago, you saw a poor small person (who has shrunk to about half her size!) in an empty room, feeling worth nothing at all, and getting nothing to eat and no attention! Persia isn't the country to be ill in. I was taken to the Russian hospital-which is an experience I don't want to repeat!-but now I am in the hands of the Legation doctor, and he is going to nurse me till I am well enough to go home.

There are no railways in this country, except one of eight miles to a tomb! Hence we all have to flounder about on awful roads in motor-cars, which break down and have to be dug out, and always collapse at the wrong moment, so we have to stay out all night.

You thought Persia was in the tropics? So did I! I have been in deep snow all the time till I came here.

I think the campaign here is nearly over. It might have been a lot bigger, for the Germans were bribing like mad, but you can't make a Persian wake up.

Ever, dear Clemmie,

Your loving

S. Macnaughtan.

So nice to know you think of me, as I know you do.

* * *

26 March.-I am getting stronger, and the days are bright. As a great treat I have been allowed to go to church this morning, the first I have been to since Petrograd.

* * *

To Miss Julia Keays-Young.

British Legation, Tehran.

1 April.

Darling Jenny,

In case you want to make plans about leave, etc., will you come and stop with me when first I get home, say about the 5th or 6th May, I can't say to a day? It will be nice to see you all and have a holiday, and then I hope to come out to Russia again. Did I tell you I have been ill, but am now being nursed by a delightful English doctor and his wife, and getting the most ideal attention, and medicines changed at every change in the health of the patient.

I've missed everything here. I was to be presented to the Shah, etc., etc., and to have gone to the reception on his birthday. All the time I've lain in bed or in the garden, but as I haven't felt up to anything else I haven't fashed, and the Shah must do wanting me for the present.

The flowers here are just like England, primroses and violets and Lent lilies, but I'm sure the trees are further out at home.

Your most loving

Aunt Sally.

* * *

To Mrs. Keays-Young.

British Legation, Tehran,

8 April.

Dearest Baby,

I don't think I'll get home till quite the end of April, as I am not supposed to be strong enough to travel yet. My journey begins with a motor drive of 300 miles over fearful roads and a chain of mountains always under snow. Then I have to cross the lumpy Caspian Sea, and I shall rest at Baku two nights before beginning the four days journey to Petrograd. After that the fun really begins, as one always loses all one's luggage in Finland, and one finishes up with the North Sea. What do you think of that, my cat?

CONVALESCENCE

Dr. Neligan is still looking after me quite splendidly, and I never drank so much medicine in my life. No fees or money can repay the dear man.

Tehran is the most primitive place! You can't, for instance, get one scrap of flannel, and if a bit of bacon comes into the town there is a stampede for it. People get their wine from England in two-bottle parcels.

Yours as ever,

S.

* * *

Tehran. April.-The days pass peacefully and even quickly, which is odd, for they are singularly idle. I get up about 11 a.m., and am pretty tired when dressing is finished. Then I sit in the garden and have my lunch there, and after lunch I lie down for an hour. Presently tea comes; I watch the Neligans start for their ride, and already I wonder if I was ever strong and rode!

It is such an odd jump I have taken. At home I drifted on, never feeling older, hardly counting birthdays-always brisk, and getting through a heap of work-beginning my day early and ending it late. And now there is a great gulf dividing me from youth and old times, and it is filled with dead people whom I can't forget.

In the matter of dying one doesn't interfere with Providence, but it seems to me that now would be rather an appropriate time to depart. I wish I could give my life for some boy who would like to live very much, and to whom all things are joyous. But alas! one can't swop lives like this-at least, I don't see the chance of doing so.

I should like to have "left the party"-quitted the feast of life-when all was gay and amusing. I should have been sorry to come away, but it would have been far better than being left till all the lights are out. I could have said truly to the Giver of the feast, "Thanks for an excellent time." But now so many of the guests have left, and the fires are going out, and I am tired.

end of the diary.

* * *

The rest of the story is soon told.

Miss Macnaughtan left Tehran about the middle of April. The Persian hot weather was approaching, and it would have been impossible for her to travel any later in the season. The long journey seemed a sufficiently hazardous undertaking for a person in her weak state of health, but in Dr. Neligan's opinion she would have run an even greater risk by remaining in Persia during the hot weather.

STARTING FOR HOME

Dr. Neligan's goodness and kindness to Miss Macnaughtan will always be remembered by her family, and he seems to have taken an enormous amount of trouble to make arrangements for her journey home. He found an escort for her in the shape of an English missionary who was going to Petrograd, and gave her a pass which enabled her to travel as expeditiously as possible. The authorities were not allowed to delay or hinder her. She was much too ill to stop for anything, and drove night and day-even through a cholera village-to the shores of the Caspian Sea.

We know very few details concerning the journey home, and I think my aunt herself did not remember much about it. One can hardly bear to think of the suffering it caused her. A few incidents stood out in her memory from the indeterminate recollection of pain and discomfort in which most of the expedition was mercifully veiled, and we learnt them after she returned.

There was the occasion when she reached the port on the Caspian Sea one hour after the English boat had sailed. She called it the "English" boat, but whether it could have belonged to an English company, or was merely the usual boat run in connection with the train service to England, I do not know. A "Russian" vessel was due to leave in a couple of hours' time, but for some reason Miss Macnaughtan was obliged to walk three-quarters of a mile to get permission to go by it. We can never forget her piteous description of how she staggered and crawled to the office and back, so ill that only her iron strength of will could force her tired body to accomplish the distance. She obtained the necessary sanction, and started forth once more upon her way.

She stayed for a week at the British Embassy in Petrograd, where her escort was obliged to leave her, so the rest of the journey was undertaken alone.

We know nothing of how she got to Helsingfors, but I believe it was at that place that she had to walk some considerable distance over a frozen lake to reach the ship. She was hobbling along, leaning heavily on two sticks, and just as she stumbled and almost fell, a young Englishman came up and offered her his arm.

In an old diary, written years before in the Argentine, during a time when Miss Macnaughtan was faced with what seemed overwhelming difficulties, and when she had in her charge a very sick man, a kind stranger came to the rescue. Her diary entry for that day is one of heartfelt gratitude, and ends with the words: "God always sends someone."

Certainly at Helsingfors some Protecting Power sent help in a big extremity, and this young fellow-Mr. Seymour-devoted himself to her for the rest of the journey in a marvellously unselfish manner. He could not have been kinder to her if she had been his mother, and he actually altered all his plans on arriving in England, and brought her to the very door of her house in Norfolk Street. Without his help I sometimes wonder whether my aunt would have succeeded in reaching home, and her own gratitude to him knew no bounds. She used to say that in her experience if people were in a difficulty and wanted help they ought to go to a young man for it. She said that young men were the kindest members of the human race.

ARRIVAL IN ENGLAND

It was on the 8th of May that Miss Macnaughtan reached home, and her travels were over for good and all. One is only thankful that the last weeks of her life were not spent in a foreign land but among her own people, surrounded by all the care and comfort that love could supply. Two of her sisters were with her always, and her house was thronged with visitors, who had to wait their turn of a few minutes by her bedside, which, alas! were all that her strength allowed.

She was nursed night and day by her devoted maid, Mary King, as she did not wish to have a professional nurse; but no skill or care could save her. The seeds of her illness had probably been sown some years before, during a shooting trip in Kashmir, and the hard work and strain of the first year of the war had weakened her powers of resistance. But it was Russia that killed her.

Before she went there many of her friends urged her to give up the expedition. Her maid had a premonition that the enterprise would end in disaster, and had begged her mistress to stay at home.

"I feel sure you will never return alive ma'am," she had urged, and Miss Macnaughtan's first words to her old servant on her return were: "You were right, Mary. Russia has killed me."

Miss Macnaughtan rallied a little in June, and was occasionally carried down to her library for a few hours in the afternoon, but even that amount of exertion was too much for her. For the last weeks of her life she never left her room.

Surely there never was a sweeter or more adorable invalid! I can see her now, propped up on pillows in a room filled with masses of most exquisite flowers. She always had things dainty and fragrant about her, and one had a vision of pale blue ribbons, and soft laces, and lovely flowers, and then one forgot everything else as one looked at the dear face framed in such soft grey hair. She looked so fragile that one fancied she might be wafted away by a summer breeze, and I have never seen anyone so pale. There was not a tinge of colour in face or hands, and one kissed her gently for fear that even a caress might be too much for her waning strength.

Her patience never failed. She never grumbled or made complaint, and even in the smallest things her interest and sympathy were as fresh as ever. A new dress worn by one of her sisters was a pleasure, and she would plan it, and suggest and admire.

It was a supreme joy to Miss Macnaughtan to hear, some time in June, that she had received the honour of being chosen to be a Lady of Grace of the Order of St. John of Jerusalem. Any recognition of her good work was an unfailing source of gratification to her sensitive nature, sensitive alike to praise or blame.

She was so wonderfully strong in her mind and will that it seemed impossible in those long June days to believe that she had such a little time to live. She managed all her own business affairs, personally dictated or wrote answers to her correspondence, and was full of schemes for the redecoration of her house and of plans for the future.

I have only been able to procure three of my aunt's letters written after her return to England. They were addressed to her eldest sister, Mrs. ffolliott. I insert them here:

MISS MACNAUGHTAN'S LAST LETTERS

* * *

1, Norfolk Street,

Park Lane, W.

Tuesday.

My dearest old Poot,

How good of you to write. I was awfully pleased to see a letter from you. I have been a fearful crock since I got home, and I have to lie in bed for six weeks and live on milk diet for eight weeks. The illness is of a tropical nature, and one of the symptoms is that one can't eat, so one gets fearfully thin. I am something over six stone now, but I was very much less.

We were right up on the Persian front, and I went on to Tehran. One saw some most interesting phases of the war, and met all the distinguished Generals and such-like people.

The notice you sent me of my little book is charming.

Your loving

S. B .M.

* * *

1, Norfolk Street,

Park Lane, W.,

9 June.

Darling Poot,

I must thank you myself for the lovely flowers and your kind letters. I am sure that people's good wishes and prayers do one good. I so nearly died!

Your loving

S. M.

* * *

17th June

Still getting on pretty well, but it is slow work. Baby and Julia both in town, so they are constantly here. I am to get up for a little bit to-morrow.

Kindest love. It was naughty of you to send more flowers.

As ever fondly,

Sarah.

* * *

As the hot weather advanced it was hoped to move Miss Macnaughtan to the country. Her friends showered invitations on "dear Sally" to come and convalesce with them, but the plans fell through. It became increasingly clear that the traveller was about to embark on that last journey from which there is no return, and, indeed, towards the end her sufferings were so great that those who loved her best could only pray that she might not have long to wait. She passed away in the afternoon of Monday, July 24th, 1916.

A few days later the body of Sarah Broom Macnaughtan was laid to rest in the plot of ground reserved for her kinsfolk in the churchyard at Chart Sutton, in Kent. It is very quiet there up on the hill, the great Weald stretches away to the south, and fruit-trees surround the Hallowed Acre. But even as they laid earth to earth and dust to dust in this peaceful spot the booming of the guns in Flanders broke the quiet of the sunny afternoon, and reminded the little funeral party that they were indeed burying one whose life had been sacrificed in the Great War.

THE GRAVE IN CHART SUTTON

Surely those who pass through the old churchyard will pause by the grave, with its beautiful grey cross, and the children growing up in the parish will come there sometimes, and will read and remember the simple inscription on it:

"In the Great War, by Word and Deed, at Home and Abroad,

She served her Country even unto Death."

And if any ghosts hover round the little place, they will be the ghosts of a purity, a kindness, and of a love for humanity which are not often met with in this workaday world.

* * *

CONCLUSION ToC

Perhaps a review of her war work by an onlooker, and a slight sketch of Miss Macnaughtan's character, may form an appropriate conclusion to this book.

I stayed with my aunt for one night, on August 7th, 1914. One may be pardoned for saying that during the previous three days one had scarcely begun to realise the war, but I was recalled by telegram from Northamptonshire to the headquarters of my Voluntary Aid Detachment in Kent, and spent a night in town en route, to get uniform, etc. Certainly at my aunt's house my eyes were opened to a little of what lay before us. She was on fire with patriotism and a burning wish to help her country, and I immediately caught some of her enthusiasm.

Every hour we rushed out to buy papers, every minute seemed consecrated to preparation for what we could do. There were uniforms to buy, notes of Red Cross lectures to "rub up," and, in my aunt's case, she was busy offering her services in every direction in which they could be of use.

VOLUNTARY RATIONING

Miss Macnaughtan must surely have been one of the first people to begin voluntary rationing. We had the simplest possible meals during my visit, and although she was proud of her housekeeping, and usually gave one rather perfect food, on this occasion she said how impossible it was for her to indulge in anything but necessaries, when our soldiers would so soon have to endure hardships of every kind. She said that we ought to be particularly careful to eat very little meat, because there would certainly be a shortage of it later on.

I recollect that there was some hitch about my departure from Norfolk Street on August 8th. It did not seem clear whether my Voluntary Aid Detachment was going to provide billets for all recalled members, and I remember my aunt's absolute scorn of difficulties at such a time.

"Of course, go straight to Kent and obey orders," she cried. "If you can't get a bed, come back here; but at least go and see what you can do."

That was typical of Miss Macnaughtan. Difficulties did not exist for her. When quite a young girl she made up her mind that no lack of money, time, or strength should ever prevent her doing anything she wanted to do. It certainly never prevented her doing anything she felt she ought to do.

The war provided her with a supreme opportunity for service, and she did not fail to take advantage of it. Of her work in Belgium, especially at the soup-kitchen, I believe it is impossible to say too much. According to The Times, "The lady with the soup was everything to thousands of stricken men, who would otherwise have gone on their way fasting."

Among individual cases, too, there were many men who benefited by some special care bestowed on them by her. There was one wounded Belgian to whom my aunt gave my address before she left for Russia that he might have someone with whom he might correspond. I used to hear from him regularly, and every letter breathed gratitude to "la dame écossaise." He said she had saved his life.

Miss Macnaughtan's lectures to munition-workers were, perhaps, the best work that she did during the war. She was a charming speaker, and I never heard one who got more quickly into touch with an audience. As I saw it expressed in one of the papers "Stiffness and depression vanished from any company when she took the platform." Her enunciation was extraordinarily distinct, and she had an arresting delivery which compelled attention from the first word to the last.

She never minced the truth about the war, but showed people at home how far removed it was from being a "merry picnic."

"They say recruiting will stop if people know what is going on at the Front," she used to tell them. "I am a woman, but I know what I would do if I were a man when I heard of these things. I would do my durndest."

All through her life the idea of personal service appealed to Miss Macnaughtan. She never sent a message of sympathy or a gift of help unless it was quite impossible to go herself to the sufferer.

She was only a girl when she heard of what proved to be the fatal accident to her eldest brother in the Argentine. She went to him by the next ship, alone, save for the escort of his old yacht's skipper, and a journey to the Argentine in those days was a big undertaking for a delicate young girl. On another occasion she was in Switzerland when she heard of the death, in Northamptonshire, of a little niece. She left for England the same day, to go and offer her sympathy, and try to comfort the child's mother.

"When I hear of trouble I always go at once," she used to say.

I have known her drive in her brougham to the most horrible slum in the East End to see what she could do for a woman who had begged from her in the street-yes, and go there again and again until she had done all that was possible to help the sad case.

ZEAL TO HELP OTHERS

It was this burning zeal to help which sent her to Belgium and carried her through the long dark winter there, and it was, perhaps, the same feeling which obscured her judgment when her expedition to Russia was contemplated. She was a delicate woman, and there did not seem to be much scope for her services in Russia. She was not a qualified nurse, and the distance from home, and the handicap of her ignorance of the Russian language, would probably have prevented her organising anything like comforts for the soldiers there as she had done in Belgium. To those of us who loved her the very uselessness of her efforts in Russia adds to the poignancy of the tragedy of the death which resulted from them.

The old question arises: "To what purpose is this waste?" And the old answer comes still to teach us the underlying meaning and beauty of what seems to be unnecessary sacrifice: "She hath done what she could."

Indeed, that epitaph might fitly describe Miss Macnaughtan's war work. She grudged nothing, she gave her strength, her money, her very life. The precious ointment was poured out in the service of her King and Country and for the Master she served so faithfully.

* * *

I have been looking through some notices which appeared in the press after Miss Macnaughtan's death. Some of them allude to her wit, her energy and vivacity, the humour which was "without a touch of cynicism"; others, to her inexhaustible spirit, her geniality, and the "powers of sarcasm, which she used with strong reserve." Others, again, see through to the faith and philosophy which lay behind her humour, "Scottish in its penetrating tenderness."

In my opinion my aunt's strongest characteristic was a dazzling purity of soul, mind, and body. She was a person whose very presence lifted the tone of the conversation. It was impossible to think of telling her a nasty story, a "double entendre" fell flat when she was there. She was the least priggish person in the world, but no one who knew her could doubt for an instant her transparent goodness. I have read every word of her diary; there is not in it the record of an ugly thought, or of one action that would not bear the full light of day. About her books she used to say that she had tried never to publish one word which her father would not like her to have written.

She had a tremendous capacity for affection, and when she once loved she loved most faithfully. Her devotion to her father and to her eldest brother influenced her whole life, and it would have been impossible for those she loved to make too heavy claims on her kindness.

SOCIAL CHARM

Miss Macnaughtan had great social charm. She was friendly and easy to know, and she had a wonderful power of finding out the interesting side of people and of seeing their good points. Her popularity was extraordinary, although hers was too strong a personality to command universal affection. Among her friends were people of the most varied dispositions and circumstances. Distinction of birth, position, or intellect appealed to her, and she was always glad to meet a celebrity, but distinction was no passport to her favour unless it was accompanied by character. To her poorer and humbler friends she was kindness itself, and she was extraordinarily staunch in her friendships. Nothing would make her "drop" a person with whom she had once been intimate.

In attempting to give a character-sketch of a person whose nature was as complex as Miss Macnaughtan's, one admits defeat from the start. She had so many interests, so many sides to her character, that it seems impossible to present them all fairly. Her love of music, literature, and art was coupled with an enthusiasm for sport, big-game shooting, riding, travel, and adventure of every kind. She was an ambitious woman, and a brilliantly clever one, and her clearness of perception and wonderful intuition gave her a quick grasp of a subject or idea. She had a thirst for knowledge which made learning easy, but hers was the brain of the poet and philosopher, not of the mathematician. Accuracy of thought or information was often lacking. Her imagination led the way, and left her with a picture of a situation or a subject, but she was very vague about facts and statistics. As a woman of business she was shrewd, with all a Scotchwoman's power of looking at both sides of a bawbee before she spent it, but she was also extraordinarily generous in a very simple and unostentatious way, and her hospitality was boundless.

Miss Macnaughtan was almost hypersensitive to criticism. Her intense desire to do right and to serve her fellow-beings animated her whole life, and it seemed to her rather hard to be found fault with. Indeed, she had not many faults, and the defects of her character were mostly temperamental.

As a girl she was unpunctual, and subject to fits of indecision when it seemed impossible for her to make up her mind one way or the other. The inconvenience caused by her frequent changes of times and plans was probably not realised by her. Later in life, when she lived so much alone, she did not always see that difficulties which appeared nothing to her might be almost insuperable to other people, and that in houses where there are several members of a family to be considered, no individual can be quite as free to carry out his own plans as a person who is independent of family ties. But when one remembered how splendidly she always responded to any claim on her own kindness one forgave her for being a little exacting.

Perhaps Miss Macnaughtan's greatest handicap in life was her immense capacity for suffering-suffering poignantly, unbearably, not only for her own sorrows but for the sorrows of others. Only those who appealed to her in trouble knew the depth of her sympathy, and how absolutely she shared the burden of the grief. But perhaps they did not always know how she agonised over their misfortunes, and at what price her sympathy was given.

RELIGIOUS VIEWS

My aunt was a passionately religious woman. Her faith was the inspiration of her whole life, and it is safe to say that from the smallest to the greatest things there was never a struggle between conscience and inclination in which conscience was not victorious. As she grew older, I fancy that she became a less orthodox member of the Church of England, to which she belonged, but her love for Christ and for His people never wavered.

As each Sunday came round during her last illness, when she could not go to church, she used to say to a very dear sister, "Now, J., we must have our little service." Then the bedroom door was left ajar, and her sister would go down to the drawing-room and play the simple hymns they had sung together in childhood. And on the last Sunday, the day before her death, when the invalid lay in a stupor and seemed scarcely conscious, that same dear sister played the old hymns once more, and as the sound floated up to the room above those who watched there saw a gleam of pleasure on the dying woman's face.

My aunt had no fear of death. There had been a time, some weeks before the end, when her feet had wandered very close to the waters which divide us from the unknown shore, and she told her sisters afterwards that she had almost seemed to see over to the "other side," and that so many of those she loved were waiting for her, and saying, "Come over to us, Sally. We are all here to welcome you."

Perhaps just at the last, when her body had grown weak, the journey seemed rather far, and she clung to earth more closely, but such weakness was purely physical. The brave spirit was ready to go, and as the music of her favourite hymn pierced her consciousness when she lay dying, so surely the words summed up all that she felt or wished to say, and formed her last prayer in death, as they had been her constant prayer in life:

"In death's dark vale I fear no ill

With Thee, dear Lord, beside me;

Thy rod and staff my comfort still,

Thy Cross before to guide me.

"And so through all the length of days

Thy goodness faileth never;

Good Shepherd, may I sing Thy praise

Within Thy house for ever."

* * *

INDEX ToC

Aberdare, 164

Aberystwyth, 164

Adinkerke, 116; soup-kitchen, 82, 86, 157;

bombardment, 139

Airships, German, over Antwerp, 5, 9; Dunkirk, 81;

Furnes, 80;

St. Malo-les-Bains, 55;

destroyed, 27, 194

Andrews, John, 171

Antwerp, 1 Hospital, 2

arrival of wounded, 2, 3, 5, 12;

siege, 3-21;

reinforcements, 12, 16;

shelled, 18-21;

retreat of the Marines, 28

Arabs, rapid system of communication, 247

Ararat, Mount, 230

Armenians, massacres of, 209, 214, 217, 228; refugees, 227;

character, 234

Artvin, 211

Asquith, Raymond, 183

Australians, treatment of the Turks, 177

Bagdad, 247

Bagot, Lady, 100; at St. Malo-les-Bains, 49, 55;

hospital, 104, 113, 114;

arrival of wounded, 144;

entertains them, 147

Bailey, Sister, 22, 24

Baku, 233, 237

Baratoff, General, 240, 241

Bark, M., Russian Finance Minister, 195

Barrow-in-Furness, lectures by Miss Macnaughtan, 162

Bartlett, Ashmead, war correspondent, at Furnes, 35

Batoum, 208, 213

"Beau Garde," farm, 140

Bedford, Adeline, Duchess of, 59

Belgians, King of the, 141

Belgians, Queen of the, visits the Hospital at Furnes, 38

Benjamin, Miss, 2, 20

Bernoff, General, 208, 209

Bessheim, the, 179

Bevan, Mr., at Furnes, 80, 83; Calais, 86;

Nieuport, 151;

Christiania, 179;

Stockholm, 180;

Baku, 231, 233

Bible, the, a Universal Human Document, 101

Boulderoff, M., 216

Boulogne, 55; wounded at, 114

Bray, Mrs., 192

British man-of-war, 125

Brockville, Mr., at Dixmude, 35

Brooke, Victor, 178

Buchanan, Sir George, Ambassador at Petrograd, 184

Buchanan, Lady Georgina, at Petrograd, 184; soup-kitchen, 192;

work-party, 196

Bute Docks, 171

Cabour hospital, 151

Calais, 83, 86

Cardiff, lecture by Miss Macnaughtan, 164, 167-171

Cardiff Castle, 163

Carlile, Mr., 120

Caspian Sea, 265

Caucasia, 210

Cavell, Miss, execution, 186

Cazalet, Mr., 207

Chart Sutton, churchyard at, 270

Chenies, 160

Children wounded, 116, 118

Chimay, Countess de Caraman, dame d'honneur of the Queen of the Belgians, 139

Chisholm, Miss, 26, 63

Christiania, 179

Churchill, Winston, at Antwerp, 12, 16; Dunkirk, 44

Clarry, Mr. G., President of the Cardiff Chamber of Trade, 170

Clegg, Mr., 105, 143

Clitheroe, Mrs., 86, 93

Close, Miss Etta, barge, 97, 126, 135; work for the refugees, 140

Cocks, W., 171

Constant, Count Stanislas, 213

Cooper, Mr., 115

Courage, definition of, 24

Coventry, Mr., 112

Cowan, Mr., Consul at Hamadan, 241, 246

Coxide, bombardment of, 69; refugees at, 138

Crawley, Eustace, 178

Cunard, Mr., 198

Cunliffe, Miss, 2

Curie, Mme., at Furnes, 68

Cyril, Grand Duchess, 205

Decies, Lady, 55

Decker, Mrs., 26

Denniss, Colonel, 164; speech at the Bute Docks, 171

Derfelden, Mme., 236

Dick, Miss, 2

Dinant, atrocities of the Germans at, 137

Dixmude, 127; bombardment, 35, 39

Donnisthorpe, Miss, 2, 22

Drogheda, Lady, 97

Dunkirk, 25, 43, 57, 73, 86, 87, 94, 123, 151; arrival of wounded, 44;

bombs on, 81;

condition of the station, 96;

shelled by the Germans, 115

Elliot, Lady Eileen, at Boulogne, 58

Elliott, Maxine, 94, 97, 126

Enzeli, 238

Erivan, 225, 227

Etchmiadzin, 229

Ferdinand, King of Bulgaria, 195

ffolliott, Mrs., letters from Miss Macnaughtan, 131, 269, 270

Fielding, Lady Dorothy, 12, 26, 63

Findlay, Mr., 82

Fisher, S., 171

France, armament works, 149

French, Sir John, at Dunkirk, 44

Frere, Sir Bartle, at Furnes, 68

Furley, Sir John, 112

Furnes hospital, 33; arrival of wounded, 37, 68;

evacuated, 41, 43;

hopeless cases, 46;

soup-kitchen, 60;

shelled by the Germans, 75, 86, 122;

bombs on, 80, 81

Fyfe, Miss, 43

Galicia, fighting in, 223

Galitzin, Prince, 208

Gas, asphyxiating, cases of, 114, 145, 171

Georgia, 211; custom at, 213

German army, siege of Antwerp, 3-21; driven back, 18;

two regiments surrounded, 121;

atrocities, 126, 132, 137, 138;

throw vitriol, 144

Germany, preparations for war, 30; treatment of prisoners, 132

Ghent, 12

Gibbs, Mr., war correspondent, at Furnes, 35

Gienst, Mme. van der, 143

Gilbert, 34

Glade, Mr., 2

Glasgow, munition works, output, 149, 161; lectures by Miss Macnaughtan, 163

Gleeson, Mr., 33, 35

Glover, Bandmaster, K. S., 170

Godfrey, Miss, 2

Goodwin, Mr. and Mrs., 239

Gordon, Dr., American Missionary, 208

Gorlebeff, head of the Russian Red Cross, 208, 221, 222

Graham, Stephen, book on Russia, 208

Groholski, Count, 210, 218

Guest, Mrs., at Adinkerke, 119

Hamadan, 240; climate, 243, 247;

tombs, 252

Hambro, Mr. Eric, 182

Hanson, Dr., 2, 23

Hanson, Mr., Vice-Consul at Constantinople, at Dunkirk, 151

Haparanda, 182

Harrison, Mr., 164

Haye, M. de la, 139, 140

Helsingfors, 266

Hermes, the, torpedoed, 43

Herslet, Sir Cecil, Surgeon-General, at Antwerp, 9

Hills, Mr., American missionary, 208, 222

Holland, Mr., 88

Hoogstadt, 87; wounded at, 121

Hope, A., 171

Howard, Lady Isobel, 181

Howse, Mr., 164

Ignatieff, M., 237

Invicta, the, 43, 52

Jecquier, M., 195

Joffre, Marshal, at Dunkirk, 44

Joos, Dr., 77; villa at Furnes, 48, 79

Joos, Mme., 77

Kajura, 236

Kasvin, 239, 259

Keays-Young, Mrs., letters from Miss Macnaughtan, 3, 106, 166, 262

Keays-Young, Miss Julia, letters from Miss Macnaughtan, 217, 262

King, Mary, 267; letters from Miss Macnaughtan, 63, 109

Kirsanoff, Mme., 241

Kitchener, Lord, at Dunkirk, 44

Kluck, General von, at Mons, 133

Knocker, Mrs., 45, 63, 155

La Bassée, British casualties at, 107

Lampernesse, church shelled, 67

La Panne, 87, 93, 97

Lazarienne, Mr., 229

Leigh, Lord, 94

Lennel, 163

Lepnakoff, Mlle., 233

Lightfoot, Mr., at Hamadan, 241, 246, 252

Lindsay, Harry, 183

Lloyd, Sir F., 162

Lloyd, George, 195

Logan, Miss, 87

Logette, Mrs., 72

Lombaertzyde, farm at, 138

Lombard, Mr., 190

Lusitania torpedoed, 123

McDonald, gunner, wounded, 118, 124

MacDonald, Mr. Ramsay, 73

MacDonell, Consul, at Baku, 237

McDowal, Mr., 241

McLaren, Mr. and Mrs., 238

McLean, Mr., 241, 248

MacMurray, Mr., 241, 248

Macnaughtan, Lieut. Colin, 144

Macnaughtan, Sarah, at Antwerp 1; work in the Hospital, 8;

incentive to keep up, 17;

leaves Antwerp, 21;

at Ostend, 22;

joins Dr. Munro's convoy, 25;

at Dunkirk, 25, 43, 57, 73, 86;

St. Malo-les-Bains, 26, 49;

Furnes, 34-43, 46, 57;

flight to Poperinghe, 43;

description of the ruins of Nieuport, 46, 152-155;

request for travelling-kitchens, 51, 58;

visits her nephew at Boulogne, 55-57;

starts a soup-kitchen, 59-61;

feeding the wounded, 61, 69;

"charette," 69;

at the Villa Joos, 72, 77;

attends a Church service, 74;

return to England, 83, 111, 157, 267;

at Rayleigh House, 85;

soup-kitchen at Adinkerke, 86, 116, 157;

illness, 87, 104, 207, 245, 256, 259-264, 267-270;

at La Panne, 93, 111;

publication of war book, 111;

difficulties in getting her passport, 112;

at Boulogne, 114;

presented with a car, 120;

at Poperinghe, 135;

method of relieving cases of poison gas, 145, 171;

lectures on the war, 160-174, 274;

at Lennel, 163;

Cardiff Castle, 163;

Chevalier de l'Ordre de Léopold conferred, 167;

journey to Russia, 179-183;

at Christiania, 179;

Stockholm, 180;

Petrograd, 183-204, 265;

waiting for work, 191-198, 218;

studies Russian, 193;

works in a hospital, 198;

at Moscow, 204;

Tiflis, 208-210, 214, 230;

delicate appearance, 208;

at Caucasia, 210;

entertained by the Grand Duke Nicholas, 215;

on the administration of war charities, 219-222;

lessons in French, 224;

buys a motor-car, 224;

journey to Erivan, 225-227;

car breaks down, 225;

festered fingers, 234;

at Baku, 237;

Resht, 238;

Kasvin, 239, 259;

Hamadan, 240-257;

a day on the Persian front, 247-249;

unfinished article on Persia, 249-252;

Return of the Pilgrim, 253-256;

Tehran, 260-264;

journey home, 264-266;

at Helsingfors, 266;

appearance, 268;

appointed Lady of Grace of the Order of St. John of Jerusalem, 268;

death, 270, 280;

funeral, 270;

review of her war work, 272-276;

ideal of personal service, 274;

sketch of her character, 276-279;

religious views, 279

Malcolm, Colonel Ian, at Boulogne, 58; Petrograd, 183;

at Moscow, 204

Malokand settlement, 226

Manners, Lady Diana, 183

Marines, British, at Antwerp, 12, 16; retreat from, 28

Marines, French, 105

Maxwell, Lady Heron, 185

Millis, General, 87

Mons, retreat from, 133; vision at, 133

Montgomerie, Miss, American missionary at Hamadan, 252

Moorhouse, Rhodes, heroism, 129

Morgan, Mr., 83, 86

Morris, Dr., 2

Moscow, 204

Motono, M., at Petrograd, 195

Munitions, shortage of, 148

Munro, Dr. Hector, 12; convoy, 25, 90;

at Dixmude, 35;

knocked over by a shell, 49

Murat, Prince Napoleon, 218, 231, 233

Murray, Mr. John, xii

Musaloff, Princess, 231

Needle, Mr., 164

Neligan, Dr., care of Miss Macnaughtan, 260, 263, 264

Neuve Chapelle, ruins of, 123

Neva, the, 200

Nevinson, Mr., at Furnes, 38

Nicholas, Grand Duke, 215

Nieuport, 71, 151; ruins of, 46, 123, 152-155

Nightingale, song of the, 155-157

Nightingale, Florence, 184

Northcote, Elsie, 182; death, 183

Ochterlony, gunner, wounded, 118

O'Gormon, Mrs., 16

Oostkerke, Belgian "observateur" killed at, 153

Orloff, Prince, 208; appearance, 219

Ostend, 22, 24

Oulieheff, Count, 210

Page, Dr. de, 118

Parsons, Johnny, 192

Passport, difficulties, 112

Percival, Mrs. Charles, letters from Miss Macnaughtan, 65, 242-245

Perrin, Dr., 86, 87

Perry, Miss, 2

Persia, climate, 239, 249; railway, 247;

system of administration, 251;

unfinished article on, 249-252

Pervyse, 63, 64; bombardment, 81;

ruins of, 123

Peter, Grand Duke, 215

Petrograd, 183, 187, 206, 265; climate, 194;

number of amputation cases, 198;

return of wounded prisoners, 201-203;

number of hospitals, 220

Philpotts, Mr., 186

Pilgrim, Return of the, 253-256

"Pinching," habit of, 98

Poincaré, M., at Dunkirk, 44

Polish refugees, at Petrograd, 192, 193

Pont, Major du, 138

Poperinghe, 43, 135-137; shelled, 116

Powell, Miss Hilda, xii

Prisoners, German, treatment in England, 132

Queen's Hall, London, lecture by Miss Macnaughtan, 162

Radstock, Lord, anecdote of, 197

Ramsay, Sir William, on the result of the war, 149

Ramsey, Dr., 2, 22

Randell, Miss, 2

Rasputin, malign influence, 209

Rayleigh House, 85

Reading, Mr. "Dick," 42

Rees, T. Vivian, 164, 171

Resht, 238

Rhondda Valley, 164

Richards, Alderman J. T., speech at Cardiff, 167

Roberts, Lord, death, 63, 111

Rocky Mountains, 182

Rotsartz, M., 125; portrait of Miss Macnaughtan, 104

Rushton Hall, Kettering, 160

Russian army, return of wounded prisoners to Petrograd, 201-203

St. Clair, Miss, 12

St. Gilles, convent at, 22

St. Idesbald, 150

St. Malo-les-Bains, 26, 49; wounded at, 50

Samson, Commander, 88

Sarrel, Mr., 151

Sawyer, Mr., 112

Sazonoff, Mme., 200

Scherbatoff, Princess Hélène, 197

Scott, Lord Francis, at Boulogne, 58

Scott, Mr., 238

Scott, Miss, 82

Secher, Mr., wounded, 49

Seymour, Mr., kindness to Miss Macnaughtan, 266

Shaw, Bernard, 189

Sheffield, lecture by Miss Macnaughtan, 162

Shoppe, Lieutenant, 132; at Nieuport, 153

"Should the Germans come," lecture on, 171-173

Sim, 178

Sindici, Mme., 83, 86

Slippers for the wounded, 66, 98

Smith, Captain, 198

Smith, Mr. Lancelot, 182

Smith, Mr. Robinson, 171, 173

Smitkin, Dr., 259

Sommerville, Mr. R., xii

Soup-kitchen at Adinkerke, 82, 97, 157; Furnes, 60

Spies, German, shot, 44, 186

Stanley, Miss, 2

Stanmore, Lord, 183

Stear, Miss, 4

Steen, Mme. van den, 137

Steenkerke, 122, 155

Stenning, Mr., xii

Stobart, Mrs. St. Clair, head of the hospital unit at Antwerp, 2; office, 7, 10;

issues orders, 18;

leaves Antwerp, 21;

return to England, 22

Stockholm, 180

Stoney, Dr. F., 2

"Stories and Pictures of the War," lecture on, 167

Streatfield, Mr., 74

Stretchers, size of, 66, 69

Strickland, Mr., 87

Strutt, Emily, 85

Strutt, Neville, 178

Sutherland, Duchess of, 93; hospital at St. Malo-les-Bains, 44

Sweden, Crown Prince of, 181

Sweden, Crown Princess of, appearance, 181

Taff river, 164

Takmakoff, Mme., 200, 203

Tapp, Mr., 64

Teck, Prince Alexander of, 141; at Furnes, 75, 83

Tehran, 260

Thompson, Mr., 138

Tiflis, 208, 214, 230

Tonepentre, 164

Toney Pandy, 164

Travelling-kitchens, 51

Tree, Viola, 183

Tschelikoff, Prince, 233

Turks, cruelties, 177, 209

Turner, Dr. Rose, 2

Tyrell, Major, 151

Tysczkievez, Count, 222

Urumiyah, evacuated, 223

Vaughan, Miss, at Furnes, 68

Vickers-Maxim works, Erith, lecture by Miss Macnaughtan, 160

Victoria, Grand Duchess, 185

Villiers, Sir Francis, British Minister at Antwerp, 9

Vladikavkas, 207

Wales, 163

Walker, Colonel, 112

Walter, Mr. Hubert, 143

Walton, Colonel, 176

War, charities, administration, 219-222; cost of the, 104;

cruelties, 175-178;

result, 115;

souvenirs, 143

Wardepett, Bishop, 229

Ware, Mr. F., 85

Waring, Lady Clémentine, letters from Miss Macnaughtan, 50-52, 58, 260; at Lennel, 163

Warship, British, shelled by the Germans, 105

Watts, Dr., 2

Welwyn, 160

Westminster, Duke of, at Dixmude, 127

Whiting, Captain, 73

William II., Emperor of Germany, supposed conversion to Mahomedanism, 209

William, Capt. Rhys, 239

Williams, Mr. Hume, 223

Wilson, Dr., 69, 225

Wilson, 178

Wood, Mr., 119, 121

Wynne, Mrs., 132, 140; at Christiania, 179;

Moscow, 205;

Baku, 231

Young, Capt. Alan, at Boulogne, 55; experiences in the war, 56;

wounded, 57

Young, Mrs. Charles, letter from Miss Macnaughtan, 214

Younghusband, Sir Frank, 164; speech at Cardiff, 169

Ypres, 114, 137; battle at, 144, 146

Yser, the, 64, 71, 121, 141

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BILLING AND SONS, LTD., PRINTERS, GUILDFORD, ENGLAND

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