480 THE OUTLOOK an independent Democrat, but Mr. Mitchel was known as had not won the confidence of the sort of reformers who exalt non-partisanship. Mr. Mitchel had therefore neither the advantage of Tammany influence nor the advantage of the support of the orthodox reformer. He disregarded his disadvantages, and made the study of the subway question for the time being his chief business. When he reached his conclusions, he knew he was right; but he was overruled. The majority of the Board adopted another plan. What Mr. Mitchel then said would happen as the result of the adoption of that plan has since come to pass. This was an instance when the city suffered because it accepted the judgment of reputation rather than the judgment of knowledge. When it came time for the city to choose a new Mayor, it chose, under the direction of Providence rather than its own intelligence, John Purroy Mitchel. People who had the reputation of the greatest wisdom and zeal for good government did not make Mr. Mitchel their first choice; and the ordinary local leader would have preferred a man of somewhat different type. But for once in its history New York City put into the Mayor's chair the man who of all the available candidates was most precisely fitted to be there. This is not the place to rehearse the acts of his administration, which is almost universally acclaimed as the best administration which New York City government has ever had. It was my good fortune, which I enjoyed in common with other members of The Outlook's staff, to take luncheon with Mr. Mitchel soon after he became Mayor. He talked freely and frankly about his plans and purposes and principles. There are three things that I remember from his conversation at that time. First, I remember that he conceived of the government of a city, not as a mere business administration, which the orthodox reformer has conceived it to be, but as real self-government-the common determination of policies by the people, the common enjoyment of rights, the common co-operative life of a great household. To Mr. Mitchel the city government was not a matter of figures and reports, but a matter of people. Second, I remember that he spoke in the terms of a man who knows the job. It was not merely good intention, but sound knowledge that determined his plans. On any department of the city government which he discussed or about which he was questioned he was able to direct the light of essential facts. His mind was not cluttered up with details; but it was equipped with sufficient detail to make his knowledge accurate and, what is quite as important, the limitations of his knowledge clear to him, so that he knew when he would have to turn to others and what others to turn to. Third, I remember that he impressed us all as a man who was essentially and pre-eminently an executive. He showed the traits of the effective and successful executive officer. For example, he accepted as a matter of principle not to be questioned or successful administration departed from in practice that successful administration depends upon the trust of one's subordinates. The great executive selects only those whom he can trust, and, having selected them, he not only gives them a free hand, but backs them up. Mr. Mitchel was the first Mayor of New York to solve the problem of the Police Department; and he did this, in spite of a defective law and many complications, by the very simple process of following this principle. The man who can do this is rare among men, whether in business or in public life. John Purroy Mitchel was the rare man who has executive genius. When next I met Mayor Mitchel, it was at the great convention or congress assembled in Washington in January, 1916, under the auspices of the National Security League. From the early days of the war he had discerned the significance of the struggle which the Allies were making against the aggression of Germany; but what he particularly discerned was the danger which threatened the free institutions of selfgoverning peoples. At that great convention which gave voice to the American people's demand for preparedness he made it clear in a speech that ought long to be remembered that democracy, no matter how wisely and strongly it was built, could not succeed unless it could defend and preserve itself, that a government of and by and for the people would not suffice if it could not, make secure against all attacks its own survival. And this which he preached he practiced. Because he stood for law and self-restraint on the part of the use to the community he encountered the opposition of those forces that There are some times when it seems almost justifiable to As he passed from the service of the city he entered into the The manner of his death has been recorded. He died in the Far down the avenue one could see the head of the procession share and more than his share to preserve and protect. Some of them were his comrades in the air service. And overhead there was the whirring of the propellers of great airplanes piloted by other comrades of John Purroy Mitchel; and as these airplanes circled over the procession these eomrades of his let fall clusters of roses, which the multitude watched swirling and floating downward, to fall in the street or on the roofs of the buildings beside which the body of the soldier was to pass. And the long roll of the drums and the strains of funeral marches from band following band sounded the personal grief that was felt by thousands who never saw John Purroy Mitchel's face or heard his voice, but knew his spirit as that of a friend whom they had never really known until he left them. And then came the casket on a gun-carriage draped with the National colors. As flag after flag had passed the corner where I stood, the men's hats came off. Americans are not as observant as they ought to be of the outward signs of respect due to the symbol of their Nation; but on this occasion there was no one lacking in this sign of reverence. And when the casket came all the men stood silent and bareheaded. After the casket came the officer's horse, draped in lusterless black. In one respect the military funeral is more Christian than the usual civilian funeral. Commonly in a funeral service every thing points to the presence of the lifeless body; but in the military funeral the symbols point in the other direction, for the officer's cap resting on the casket and the boots hanging from the officer's saddle are reminders rather of the spirit's departure. And walking after the officer's horse came the group of citizens chosen as pall-bearers and headed by an ex-President of the United States, Theodore Roosevelt. Following these came officials of the State and of the city, including the present Mayor, and representatives of civic organizations, slowly marching in honor of the patriot. So, with the greatest demonstration of honor ever accorded any man in the city of New York, with military obsequies befitting a Lieutenant-General, this Major, a defeated Mayor, a soldier and aviator who never reached the front, a Catholic repudiated by some of his fellow-churchmen, but a patriot, a servant of the people, a Christian, and a martyr to the cause of freedom, reached the end of his earthly career. In the histories of America the story of John Purroy Mitchel ought to be told, for from it future generations can learn, as from few other biographies, of the spirit of our people in these days;. and the name of John Purroy Mitchel should be handed down to our children and our children's children. E. H. A. THE SPIRIT OF DEFEAT OR THE SPECIAL CORRESPONDENCE · "Harper's Magazine" for July contains an article entitled "Beads; or, War-Time Reflections in Paris," by Mrs. Margaret Deland. It possesses all the charm, penetration, and human interest for which Mrs. Deland's writings are distinguished. But it has aroused a great deal of criticism because it gives the impression that the writer is thoroughly discouraged by the moral and physical horrors of war, and that she feels that the French, although holding on grimly, are suffering from a similar discouragement. Her paper concludes with this sentence: "It is a Hope! Eons off, perhaps, but a Hope. The hope of the upward curve of the spiral after it has dipped into the primeval. Back again, these people say, to the beginnings of things, must go our miserable little civilization." This is not the view of Mr. Poling, whose article in The Outlook of July 10 describes the moral and physical influence of the American soldier on France and the reciprocal influence of France on the American soldier. Nor is it the view of Mr. Francis Rogers, whose letter we print below. Mr. Rogers, as our readers must already know from previous contributions to these pages, is an accomplished musical authority and singer of New York, who, with his wife, has been in France cheering and encouraging our soldiers by concerts and recitations at the camps, barracks, Y. M. C. A. huts, and other places at the front. He is a graduate of Harvard, and knows and understands the spirit of the American man of this generation.-THE EDITORS. I N a recent magazine there is an article by the distinguished author Margaret Deland entitled "Beads; or, War-Time Reflections in Paris." Mrs. Deland has been spending several months in France, during which time she has discussed the subject of the war with many people, both French and American. Some of those with whom she has talked are hopeful of a victory for the Allies and of a better world to live in afterwards, but these appear not to have made so deep an impression on her mind as the pessimists, according to whom the French are all but down and out, the American Army has arrived on the scene too late to save the situation, and European civilization generally is headed straight for chaos and hell. More than half convinced that these apostles of despair are right in their estimate of the situation, Mrs. Deland allows herself to be the mouthpiece of their defeatism. Such propaganda, which more properly should reach us through a German medium, cannot be too severely contradicted and reprobated. My wife and I, like Mrs. Deland, spent the winter in France, traveling constantly and talking with countless French men and women of all social grades, and never did we hear a word of defeatism from any of them. For four years France has borne an immeasurable burden of death and destruction, but she can say, proudly, with Henley: "In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud; I have before me a letter sent to us from Paris June 10 by a French physician in uniform-a soldier as well as a man of science-which expresses the French attitude of mind as we found it. It says: "I am full of admiration for what I see and learn of your soldiers and organizers, and understand full well the magnificent effort your country is making to replenish the exhausted ranks of our army. What tears our hearts is to see those unfortunate districts, liberated for a time and in course of reconstruction, pass again into the hands of the enemy. We shall have to regain them all piece by piece. What a task! But when one considers the quality of your troops and the way in which they have been organized one is. full of confidence and can almost fix the date of victory. That day I await with impatience, for it will mark the end of the tribulations of France and the beginning of a long period of prosperity. I hope you will return then to celebrate with us the great festival of liberation." As a pendant to this spirited letter I will recount a little incident. My wife had made a purchase in a shop in Paris and stepped to the desk to pay the bill to the dame de comptoir, a small, middle-aged woman dressed in black. Something was said about America's entry into the war, my wife expressing enthusiastically her satisfaction that now we were the allies of France. The little woman rose to her feet, grasped my wife's hand firmly in hers, and, with sparkling eyes and ringing voice, cried, "Yes, madame, France and America are now allies, and hand in hand will press on to victory!" The man of science and the little woman in black speak for France with more truthful accents than do Mrs. Deland's shellshaken acquaintances. Our country, abhorring war and seeking in it no material gain, has come to realize that it must fight to the death the Powers that threaten the democratic civilization that it holds dear. As an earnest of its stern purpose, it has already sent to France an army of more than a million men, the very flower of our youth, who are but the advance guard of a mightier host. to follow. These youths are full of a high, spiritual courage. Read this excerpt from a letter written to us by a Marine in a "first-line trench, France, May 8:" "I have been away from my home since a kid, and don't mind it so much as do. the younger fellows. Still, I have never seen any of them, who 1 wants to go back before it's all over. This is my third trick in the trenches, and I wish you could have seen our boys in action. It would have done your heart good to see boys just out of school with a smile on their face under shell-fire. They rise to the occasion like old war horses. We have lost a few boys, but still we have had marvelous good luck, and are holding our own and then some, without much trouble." In these few lines speaks the voice of our Army in France. The following is part of a letter wrtten by an American woman who is serving her second year in a hospital in Paris (from the "Red Cross Magazine " for July): Never have I been so affected and moved in my life as at the hospital this morning. An American lad-right from the front and wounded- -was operated on, and while coming out of ether he lived over those minutes before he was hit. It was so dramatic, so terrible, that it made our hearts beat faster; for no longer was I in a civilized hospital, but in a veritable hell of mud and fighting. Oh! I have heard French soldiers, and I love them; but to hear it in our own dear American slang made me realize that, after all, it cannot be but one's own country first. MR. AND MRS. FRANCIS ROGERS "This is the way we looked in France," says Mr. Rogers in a letter He kept crying: "Ah, I've got that one. Don't tell mother I've killed him-don't, oh, don't. Damn this mud. After them, boys. Fix bayonets. That's a boy." And with clenched teeth and shaking his fine young head, "Damn the Huns the dirty Boches-Ah! [a sound of horror] they are coming, waves on waves of them!" My merely writing can't possibly make you picture it: the room darkened on account of the raid, the smell of ether, the tossing figure and young voice. And there are going to be hundreds of them, thousands of them, with youth and the same splendid spirit in them. And he repeated endlessly, "They can't lick an American ;" and I knew then that they couldn't-not possibly. It is such gallant, noble boys as these that we have sent to France to fight for us. On them depends the future of our country. Shall we that stay at home let them think for a moment that we have lost anything of our confidence in our cause or in them? No. Let us resolutely banish from our thoughts and utterances even the shadow of possible defeat in the achievement of our high purpose, and send to our boys abroad only messages of loving approbation, encouragement, and confidence in the happy outcome of the great war. To those that are in any way afflicted with defeatism I rec MY BOY IN FRANCE (THE MOTHER SPEAKS) BY CORNELIA B. ROGERS These lines, written by Mrs. Francis Rogers and often recited by her in her work among our soldiers in France, were in great demand by our boys over there. We are glad to have the opportunity of reprinting them for the benefit of our boys over here.-THE EDITORS. Now that my boy has gone to France I promised not to mind it, see? Now that my boy has gone to France His little brother Paul Says: "I guess this war won't last ver' long, He'll just petrify 'em all!" Now that my boy has gone to France I know he'll meet temptations; But I guess our boys ain't like the ones No, sir. You can't tell my William's pa nor me With us that he's a-goin' to act, well-queer; An' get into drinkin', or trouble any girl :- Of her. No, my boy just had the urge to go An' to help the little children grow An' the starvin' have enough of food. I know all these things were in Bill's mind I sha'n't forget his look that day Not if I live a thousand-say, He's goin' to do it! I know Bill, He always does what he says he will. Oh, how my tired heart will dance When my boy comes marching home from France! ommend the regular perusal of the "Stars and Stripes "the official newspaper of the A. E. F.," "by and for the soldiers of the A. E. F.," which, though published in France, is the most truly and happily American publication to be found anywhere. I wish it could enter every home in the United States, bringing with it its weekly message of optimism and confidence of victory. I will close with two quotations from its editorial page of June 14: FLAG DAY (From the "Stars and Stripes ") All over America to-day, in every country where the representatives of America are engaged in carrying out the American vision, on the high seas where the fleet of America keeps its ceaseless watch and ward, the flag will be flown. The recurrence of Flag Day this year finds the banner in more distant places, at one and the same time, than has ever before been the case. It is a far cry back to the days when the flag had but thirteen stars in the blue field alongside its thirteen stripes. But the glorious thought of the day is not in the extension of those stars to fortyeight nor in the multitude of far-removed spots on which to-day the flag is planted. It is rather that the flag of forty-eight stars stands for exactly the same ideal of liberty as did the flag of thirteen stars; that the America of 1918 is as alive and alert in the defense of that ideal as was the America of 1776. The flag has never led the way to war save when human freedom was at stake. The flag's glory has been that it has always emerged triumphant and untarnished from the fray. T MUSIC FOR And just as in those days when the war was young, the poilu, after four years, rides up to the front, blithely, lustily singing, and with roses stuck in his cap and blouse. Germany told the world that France was "bled white." Germany lied, and knew that she lied. The soul of France, reflected in the eyes and voices of her fighting men, is both unvanquished and unvanquishable. Southampton, New York, July 7, 1918. FRANCIS ROGERS. THE SOLDIERS 10 get together the instruments for a jazz band in forty-. five minutes is but one example of the many requests that come to Mr. and Mrs. Orlando Rouland, who are collecting musical instruments for our boys in the service. The idea of supplying these instruments to the soldiers and sailors came to them after they had invited some musical friends to their studio-Mr. Rouland is a well-known artist-to hear a member of a Negro regiment, "the Buffaloes," play. The happy thought struck them that the entertainment would be more unusual if each guest were asked to bring some musical instrument as a gift for the boys, and this postscript was added to the original invitation. At the musicale a plan was devised to collect instruments, to be supplied generally to all branches of the service. That music of any kind is of vital importance to the fighting man has long been accepted as a fact; hence the bands on battleships, regimental bands, fife and drum corps, and the singing. Since it is not possible for bands to be playing all the time or any band to play at more than one place at a time, thousands of men in the camps, on the ships, in the trenches, behind the lines, in the hospitals, are for long periods without the vital and stimulating influence of music except as they make it themselves. And they cannot make the music themselves unless they can draw upon the abundance of musical talent in their respective units (many of which have no bands at all) and unless they have the instruments. Here and there in the Army or Navy a man ingeniously has manufactured an instrument to supply the need. A corporal of "the Buffaloes," for example, made a "one-dolin" out of a cigar-box, a stick of wood, and one wire string; another, in the trenches, made a guitar partly from a tin cracker-box. It was because they knew this and had carefully secured information from our own as well as French and British officers of experience regarding the need and use of musical instruments in hospitals, camps, barracks, trenches, and ships that Mr. and Mrs. Rouland conceived the idea of collecting from every available source unused and idle musical instruments and putting them to the best possible use by placing them in the hands of the soldiers and sailors who are able to play on them. The success of this plan may be judged from the fact that in the course of three months hundreds of instruments have been supplied to individual men in various branches of the service. Several hospital units for service "over here "and" over there," aviation squadrons, and infantry regiments have been equipped with full bands or orchestras, all the instruments having been donated by the generous and patriotic former owners. The unusual feature in the work of collecting these instruments is that it is not carried on by an organization and with the solicitation of funds, but is entirely under the personal direction of Mr. and Mrs. Rouland. For this reason a flexibility that enables them to meet almost any emergency is maintained, and there is a refreshing absence of red tape. The working plan is simply this: All musical instruments that are donated are received at the studio and passed on to those who ask for them without expense to any one. None of the instruments are supplied to the boys without the consent of their commanding officer, who usually communicates with Mr. or Mrs. Rouland. They feel that this work will have a far-reaching effect upon the country. By giving hundreds of men an opportunity to play musical instruments this country is being changed from a merely music-loving to a music-making Nation. For this country as a whole has always appreciated concerts, although comparatively few people have taken an actual part in them. Soldiers come into the studio who in their college days had played a mandolin or banjo. They had, however, given up the amusement, and never expected to take it up again. In the service, nevertheless, there has been a widespread revival of musical interest, because it has been found that strumming on a banjo fills a deep-felt want of a lonely man far more effectively than any concert by the world's most famous artists. It is an extraordinary fact that among our fighting men so many undeveloped musicians have been found who otherwise might never have been discovered. The urgent need for such work as this is shown in the testimony of a young Canadian soldier who has been invalided home and who, under the direction of the United States Emergency Fleet Corporation, is now urging the men of the various shipyards to speed up. From his personal experience in war hospitals he found that for lack of a musical instrument of any kind the men resorted to their childhood pastime of playing tunes on a comb covered with a bit of paper--a striking proof of the vital need of this work! But, some one may object, will not the men have to spend a great deal of time in acquiring sufficient skill to play the instruments? Mrs. Rouland answers the query by citing the case of the boys in the Brooklyn Navy-Yard barracks to whom she furnished the instruments for a full band about six weeks ago. They have become so proficient in this short time that they now supply the music for all the parties and concerts held there. It has been pointed out that the simplicity of the plan gives it the needed flexibility to rise to emergencies. The necessity for this is proved daily. From the Marines comes a call for a jazz band. They are expecting to leave in twelve hours--and they did not sail without it! There could not be this rapidity of action if the work were highly organized, with the usual committees that must be constantly consulted. Mrs. Rouland knows on the instant what can be done, and she proceeds to carry it out. Another request for a jazz band came from some sailor boys. They had to have it in two hours-and they got it! In fact, jazz bands seem to be in great demand, for even the armed guards whose duty it is to man the guns of the convoys of our transports asked for jazz music. From five sailor boys came another request for a jazz band. They were to sail in about three-quarters of an hour, to be gone for perhaps eighteen months. All the necessary instruments, including a drum, were at hand, with the single exception of a guitar. Mrs. Rouland was puzzled about what she should do. The telephone rang, and a pleasant voice at the other end of the wire said, "I am a near neighbor, and have just read of the work you are doing. I have a guitar. Can you use it?" The reply came, "Yes, indeed, if you can get it to me within five minutes." Needless to say, the guitar was delivered, and the sailor boys did not leave without their jazz band. However, jazz bands are not the only musical equipment supplied. Many beautiful and rare instruments are donated. During the writer's talk with Mrs. Rouland the neighbor who had come to the rescue of these sailors entered with an old flute that dated back to the Civil War. Yet it is only one of the many heirlooms that are constantly being presented. It was thought wiser not to distribute these in the regular manner, but to reserve them as "prizes" for our war heroes. An old violin which had belonged to General Du Barry, one of the early graduates of West Point, was given to the first American soldier blinded in the war, who happened to be a violinist. And Augustus Thomas's ukulele went to the first sailor blinded. Frances Starr donated the guitar which she played in "The THIS PHOTOGRAPH WAS TAKEN IN MR. ORLANDO ROULAND'S STUDIO. IT SHOWS SOME OF THE MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS WHICH HAVE BEEN DONATED FOR THE MEN IN THE SERVICE. THE BOYS IN NAVAL UNIFORM ARE MEMBERS OF THE CREW OF THE HOSPITAL SHIP COMFORT Rose of the Rancho." Two silver cornets, once the property of the famous bandmaster Patrick Gilmore, are also a part of the collection. A wonderful old violin was sent in by a woman whose great-great-grandfather had made it in Scotland over one hundred years ago. The note which accompanied it stated that she did not "play any music," and she hoped that whoever got it would enjoy it. Another valuable gift-an old ivory clarinet-was added to the treasures. So personal is each appeal that none can be disregarded. Whether it be a base hospital in France calling for the instruments for a full orchestra or a young aviator yearning for a ukulele, each request is of equal importance. From Deer Island there comes a request for a band. Eight hundred men are located there, with no means of diversion. Of course they will be taken care of. Then there are the two sailors who were on the President Lincoln, which was torpedoed. They had heard of Mrs. Rouland's work, and were looking her up. On the way up to the apartment they told the elevator boy their troubles-that they had lost" everything." The "everything" to which they referred particularly consisted primarily of a ukulele and a mandolin. The elevator boy consolingly told them that "it would make no difference, as Mrs. Rouland would make it all good." The hospital ship Comfort (about which, by the way, there has been so much discussion because it may possibly be sent out without convoy) was fitted out with stringed-orchestra and brass-band instruments. Other instruments for the wounded men were also supplied. Special contrivances accompanied the instruments, so that the wounded musician, if unable to use his hands freely, can still play. A group of instruments on the floor of the studio, Mrs. Rouland announced, were destined for the Naval Prison at Portsmouth. Lieutenant-Commander Thomas Mott Osborne had happened into the studio one day, and, upon seeing the great number of instruments scattered about, naturally asked what it all meant. He was told, and immediately announced that the Naval Prison must also have a band. Mr. Osborne is anxious to contribute in every possible way to the happiness of his boys, because he is proud of the splendid record they have made. After the war, when the men return, it is proposed to have an immense open-air concert in Central Park. All the Army and Navy bands that have been formed, whether large or small, are to assist in the programme. Even the jazz bands are to have their part in the concert. Mr. and Mrs. Rouland have received splendid co-operation from all sources. Teachers of music are volunteering to give lessons in the evening to the men. Carnegie Hall has turned over a room for the use of these classes, and Steinway & Co. have donated a piano. From Messrs. Ditson & Co. comes helpful co-operation in the form of free repair of any instrument requiring it. Secretary of War Newton D. Baker, in a letter authorizing Mr. and Mrs. Rouland to carry on this war work, states that he is very glad to have their co-operation in behalf of the soldiers and sailors, who are helped and made happy by it. It is interesting to note that this work of collecting instruments is to be started in Canada by a returned Canadian soldier, who realizes its possibilities and what music means to the boys in the camps, at the front, and in the hospitals. The hearty co-operation already received convinces the Roulands that there must be many more willing to contribute to the work. Any musical instruments in good condition will be gladly received if forwarded to them, at 130 West Fifty-seventh Street, New York City; or those needing repair can be forwarded to them, express prepaid, in care of C. H. Ditson & Co., at 8 East Thirty-fourth Street, who have generously offered to mend, free of charge, all instruments donated for this purpose. Mrs. Rouland's carefully kept card catalogue records the names and addresses of both donor and recipient, so that a copy of the record can be forwarded to Washington. Needless to say, the boys take the greatest delight in acknowledging the gifts and expressing their thanks to the givers |