The Glitter and the Gold

by Consuelo Vanderbilt Balsan

  Another call that I received on my arrival in England was from the American Women's War Relief Fund asking me to be their chairman and to make an appeal for funds at a meeting that was to be held in Mrs. William Leeds's house the following day. During the first year of that war $303,740.28 were subscribed by my countrymen and women.

  We organized and ran a military hospital of four hundred beds in a splendid house in Devonshire given to us by Mr. Paris Singer, a hospital for officers in London and workrooms for needy women whose husbands were at the front. Thanks to the generosity of our compatriots these activities never lacked support, but if on occasions we envisaged a new departure, Mrs. Whitelaw Reid would say, "How much do you want?" and without waiting for an answer, "I will give it." In fact I had to remonstrate, pointing out that our work should not depend altogether on the generosity of one of its members. Ambassador and Mrs. Reid's daughter, Lady Ward, was also on the Committee, and with Viscountess Harcourt and Mr. and Mrs. Walter Bums, was the most active member. Lady Harcourt, as honorary secretary, proved that she had inherited her uncle Pierpont Morgan's business acumen. She carried the brunt of the work, and when decorations were forthcoming, was made a Dame of the Order of the British Empire.

  English women were forming a "Women's Emergency Corps," with Lady Tree and Miss Lena Ashwell, two leading actresses, as guiding spirits. At their request I spoke for them at their first meeting at the Shaftesbury Theatre a few days after the outbreak of war. So many women responded to this call that an overflow meeting was held at the Little Theatre. Ten thousand offers of personal service were received from doctors, dispensers, trained nurses, interpreters and others; while bus drivers and sportswomen who understood the care of horses volunteered to assist in transport work. Mrs. Pethwick Lawrence urged all volunteer workers to refuse any kind of work in which they would compete with women who had their livelihood to gain. As Honorary Treasurer of the Corps, I realized what splendid work was done in registering and training women to take the place of enlisted men and to carry on such activities as collecting food, feeding Belgian refugees and making toys to supplant those formerly imported from Germany.

  I remember the first day the German planes came over London. It was during the morning, and my secretary was taking letters when suddenly the zoom of planes overhead became formidable. Dropping everything we rushed down and into the streets—apparently everyone else had done the same—and craning our necks we saw a company of German planes sail over in perfect formation. They had come to challenge our defenses and not a shot was fired in answer. All we could do in the instinctive gesture of vengeance was to shake our fists at the blue of that brilliant sky.

  During the Zeppelin raids the basement of Sunderland House became the refuge of my neighbors who all lived in small, old, rather frail houses. The following letter is typical of many I received:

  69 Curzon Street

  Mayfair

  September 5, 1917

  Your Grace:

  I feel I cannot help letting you know that your kindness in opening the basement of Sunderland House saved our lives last night.

  We sheltered there, and during our absence our drawing room windows were shattered and a very large piece of shell casing came into the room which we had only left ten minutes before. Pray believe I am very grateful

  Yours faithfully,

  (signed) Maude M. C. Foulkes

  I preferred to sleep quietly in my bed and had forbidden my maid to wake me, being a sound sleeper. Last minute repentances are to my mind rather cowardly, and if I was doomed to be np I thought it better not to anticipate it.

  The days were full of work; I retired early, and very rarely dined out, not having the heart for it. There was, however, one evening when, while Lady Essex, my two sons and I were at dinner before going to the opera, the siren sounded, to be succeeded by the distant thud of bombs and, quite close, the ack-ack from the guns in Hyde Park. The parlor maid with perfect composure finished serving the meal and we debated whether or not to go to the opera. Unnecessary circulation during raids had been forbidden; nevertheless, because the opera was a favorite we decided to go. The streets were empty and we reached it in no time. There had been a lull in the bombing but no sooner were we installed in our box than another raid was upon us, accompanied by such noise that Sir Thomas Beecham, who was conducting, shrugged his shoulders in annoyance and the soprano sang louder than ever. The police came in to evacuate the upper tiers while the rest of us sat it out. The only other raid that caught me in a theater was at His Majesty's when the manager came out to announce, "The iron curtain will be let down for the safety of the actors; the audience is requested quietly to remain in their seats." A general laugh was however followed by a general exodus.

  In the year 1915 it became fashionable to offer one's London house to the War Office as a nursing home. Sunderland House was not adapted to this purpose and was, moreover, the only house left free for public meetings, for which it was particularly suited since it had a long gallery where three hundred people could be seated.

  On investigating hospital accommodations I found that the labor wards were in many cases being given over to the more important work of caring for the wounded and that there was an increasing demand for a Lying-in Hospital. I decided to meet this demand by closing my Home for Prisoners' Wives, the need for which no longer existed. After being fitted with eighteen beds, it became an annex to the Royal Free Hospital. Lady Barrett and Dr. Aldrich Blake, two prominent gynecologists, headed the staff of women doctors and students.

  Our patients often postponed arriving until the very last moment, and on one occasion a taxi driver came in to inform us the baby had been born in his car. At that time unmarried women were finding it difficult to gain admittance to the general hospitals, so that we had a great number of these unfortunate girls, whom we also tried to help with the difficult problem of their future. Going round the wards one day, I saw the mother of a lovely baby in tears, and I inquired the cause of her unhappiness. "He's white," she answered, pointing to the baby, "and my husband when he sees him will not believe he is his." Then the English nurse in charge told me that the husband was an American Negro, and added, "I told her babies were always born white even if they become black later on, but the girl will not believe me!"

  During the war immorality among girls in their teens assumed disturbing proportions for they were the chief carriers of disease and ignored the serious consequences. The echoes of Victorian morality were still vibrant and any enlightenment had to be given clandestinely. When I was asked to give the Priestby Lecture, which that year, 1916, was to deal with Infant Mortality, Its Causes and Preventions, I prepared a comprehensive survey based on medical facts and public health statistics which it took me three weeks to write and an hour to read. One could not ignore the prevalence of venereal disease and its disastrous effects, but when I mentioned the fact, I saw several old ladies rise in dignified disapproval and with horrified glances at my scarlet face turn their backs and walk out of the hall. Not until the next day, when an editorial in the London Times thanked me for the courage shown in unveiling unpalatable truths, did I regain my composure. In spite of the fact that my predecessors as Priestby Lecturers had been men of the caliber of Professor Sir Ray Lankester K.C.B.F.R.S. and Professor Metchnikoff of the Pasteur Institute, an excerpt from a London newspaper will show that I did not acquit myself too badly:

  The Duchess of Marlborough always fascinates her hearers by the combined simplicity, persuasiveness and logic lighted by quaint little flashes of humour of her speeches, and her choice as the first woman to deliver a Priestby Lecture was more than justified.

  As Honorary Treasurer of the Medical School for Women in connection with the Royal Free Hospital—at that time the only hospital where women students were accepted and allowed to practice—I was fortunate in securing donations which enabled us to establish and equip additional premises. In recognition of my services the Council of the School of Medicine for Women (University
of London) did me the honor of attaching my name to the extension of the Physics Department.

  Public work had little by little absorbed me. The interest of tackling a new subject, of making out a good case, of arousing sympathy, and of furthering a cause overcame the nervousness public speaking always engendered. My interests were varied, but my chief concern was the welfare of women and children and the extension of prenatal as well as postnatal care for them. For this I spoke all over the country, and in time came to be called the "Baby Duchess," which in view of my height and advancing years was thoroughly misleading. But my biggest thrills were speaking at meetings at lo Downing Street with Mrs. Lloyd George in the chair; at the Mansion House where the Deputy Lord Mayor presided and I was sandwiched between two Cabinet ministers as the only woman speaker; and again at the Guildhall when the Lord Mayor presided.

  I was also writing articles for the press and thinking out ways and means to extract donations from an impoverished and war-weary public. One untapped source occurred to me and we launched an appeal to women to give a jewel to save a baby's life. Thus "The Children's Jewel Fund" was born and had instantaneous success. We raised nearly fifty thousand pounds in the fourth year of war—an astounding display of British generosity. Gifts great and small poured into Cartier's sumptuous premises in Bond Street which they generously lent us as headquarters. Great ladies ransacked family heirlooms and brought out cameos, chatelaines, diamond brooches, bracelets and rings, stomachers in their old-fashioned settings and diamond tiaras and necklaces. Yet more touching were the offerings of the poor who gave us trinkets and treasures of gold and silver; even wedding rings were parted with by those who had nothing else to give. We had a most successful auction at Christies, at which Mr. Lloyd George's pearl and diamond scarf pin was put up for auction again and again amid scenes of great enthusiasm.

  In addition to these philanthropic activities I had formed a Women's Municipal party with the express purpose of getting women elected to municipal councils; for if it was left to the tender mercies of the Conservative and Liberal parties it was evident that women would be given seats to contest where they had very little chance of being elected. The Women's Municipal party therefore decided on more aggressive tactics and we put up independent candidates to disrupt the party in power by drawing off the female vote. We considered such tactics justified by the need for women councillors who would give special attention to public health measures for the care of child life. The number of women on the London County Council was small and some of the Borough Councils had no women members at all. Unfortunately for me, a vacancy on the London County Council occurred in North Southwark in 1917 and my Committee pointed out the necessity for its President to act up to its policies. I was dismayed, for politics held no attraction for me and my private work absorbed all my energies; nevertheless, noblesse oblige, I accepted. Mr. E. A. Strauss was the Liberal M. P. for North Southwark and became a kind friend and a staunch supporter. He was unmarried, and in time, especially during the postwar Parliamentary election, I had to speak at all his meetings. Mr. Strauss presided at my first meeting in Southwark and introduced me to the members of the Selection Committee, men on whose approval my election depended, for during the war contested elections had been suspended; by agreement between the parties a vacancy was filled by the party that held the seat. It was therefore only at the end of the war that I fought and won a contested election.

  On this first occasion I met some sixty of my would-be constituents and gave a comprehensive speech, for I had been asked to state my views in general. I spoke for an hour, during which my judges lent a kindly and attentive ear. Then Mr. Strauss asked me to wait outside while the Committee took a vote. It seemed to me that it took them as long to decide my fate as it had taken me to state my views, and I was becoming despondent for although I had no desire to stand, there was now a question of pride involved in the issue. At last the door opened and Mr. Strauss came in smiling and, grasping my hand, said, "You are unanimously selected as our member for North Southwark."

  Relieved, but still doubting, I asked, "But why did you take so long?"

  "Because," said Mr. Strauss, "so many had to get up to explain that they could not see how a Duchess could be a Progressive nor how she could understand a workingman's point of view, but since hearing your speech they were convinced of your sincerity and your ability to represent them." I went up to thank them for their confidence and hoped I would not fail them.

  The London County Council is the central administrating body of the twenty-eight Metropolitan boroughs and of the City of London. It consists of 124 councillors who are elected triennially by the rate payers, and of 20 aldermen who are elected by the councillors and who hold office for six years. The Chairmen have invariably been men distinguished for their public service.

  I was impressed by the business-like appearance of the assembly, which at that time still held its sessions in the Old County Council Hall in Westminster. The fine new buildings across the Thames opposite to the Houses of Parliament were then being built. The Council was divided into three parties. The Municipal Reformers, the Conservative party who were in the majority; the Progressives or Liberals, to which I belonged; and the Labour members, a small but effective group with Miss Susan Laurence, later elected to the House of Commons, as Whip.

  The London County Council's sessions differ from the Commons in that debates are rare. The business of administration admittedly does not produce the heated discussions new policies evoke. The real work is done in committees and the reports they issue are models of their kind. In the Council itself questions addressed to the chairmen of the various committees permit short discussions, and there are occasions when a full dress debate over the allocation of funds becomes heated. Measures for education and public health were interesting, but the provision of houses for the working classes urgent. And the Council had undertaken a tremendous program involving a huge expenditure. A welcome departure and one which had a permanent influence on all future suburban developments was the planning of garden suburbs.

  It was not until March, 1919, four months after the Armistice, that an election of County Councillors for London took place. I stood as a Progressive with the Mayor of North Southwark against two Labour members. At the numerous meetings I held in the various wards of the constituency, I was encouraged by the good attendance at a time when the papers declared that "never has the traditional apathy of the London elector been so marked." On election day I started visiting my committee rooms and polling stations at 9:00 a.m. and was on my feet until the count, which took place at the Town Hall after the close of the polls at 8:00 p.m. On my walking tours I was accompanied by groups of children who enlivened my progress by chanting "Vote Vote Vote for Mrs. Marlborough" to the tune of "Tramp Tramp Tramp the Boys Are Marching." The London Daily Telegraph gave the following account:

  Southwark is again solidly Progressive, the Duchess of Marlborough being at the top of the Poll. Her Grace had a large number of supporters amongst the women, to whom she made a special appeal, and on Wednesday she received a letter of support from Mrs. Lloyd George. Yesterday it was noticeable that she had more motor cars at her disposal than any other candidate. She was very well received wherever she went.

  During the count, at which my sons were present, it looked at one moment as if a split election would result with myself and a popular preacher who stood as one of my Labour opponents elected, but the final figures showed a good majority for the Progressives. It was to be the Liberal party's last victory; soon after the Socialists secured and succeeded in holding the seat.

  It gives me pleasure to reflect that although my time on the Council was short I was able to obtain a playground for the children of North Southwark, which I put through by first securing a certain measure of financial support and then appealing to the Parks Committee under whose control these playgrounds were laid out and operated.

  Work on the London County Council was indeed, as the Lord Mayor had informed me
, arduous. It was not the Council meetings, but the committees which met every week that required work and the mastering of long reports. With the approach of a general election I had to speak at all the rallies and take as well the women's meetings.

  Always interested in housing conditions, I toured the slums of South London and was dismayed by the unsanitary and inadequate houses inhabited by the poor. With the desire to draw attention to Southwark for the housing reforms that were then being advocated, I approached the Prince of Wales and asked him to accompany me on a tour, an invitation he promptly accepted. We drove down in his car, and then proceeded on foot through the worst slums, stopping to look over the most unsanitary habitations. I was amazed by his intimate knowledge of social problems and delighted by the kindly interest he showed. Joined by the Mayor, we soon attracted a large crowd which cheered us on our way. As he drove me home, the Prince sadly commented on the immensity of the task that lay ahead in providing decent and adequate housing, and when we parted, with a boyish twinkle in his eye, he added, "I wish my mother wore hats like yours!" Ever Prince Charming, he was, I knew, complimenting my taste, not criticizing a mother to whom he gave a reverential devotion.

  At the outbreak of war I had liberated my chauffeur for war work and taken a young girl in his stead, but as the war neared its end she told me she would have to leave me.

  "I had three brothers at the front," she said. "One was killed, one badly wounded and now Dad has gone too, so I have applied to the Red Cross to drive a car in France."

  And she went, a lovely and gallant person whom I pray life may have blessed. She was succeeded by a shell-shocked soldier. He had little to do since I hardly ever dined out and driving me to my meetings in the small Renault was child's play. What then was my surprise when during my election campaign my agent, looking very uncomfortable, informed me he had something disagreeable to tell me.