Our Lady Of The Boats

Of all the contributions, and their were many, made by actresses to the war effort and the relief of the casualties, none could have been greater than those made by Jessie Dermott, aka Maxine Elliott, aka 'Our Lady of the Boats' to the thousands of Belgians to whom she brought deperately needed aid.

Prior to the outbreak of the Great War Maxine Elliott spent much of her time with the Australian singles tennis World champion Anthony Wilding with whom she was at the time romantically involved. They had each spent the previous winter at the Riviera where they were seen frequently in each others company and rumours abounded that the couple were to marry. But then came war. Wilding felt the call of duty and enlisted in the Royal Marines to fight for the commonwealth, quickly proving himself an exemplary soldier winning commendations and promotions on the battlefield. Maxine also felt driven to support the Allied cause in her own way and enlisted for front line work with the Red Cross - the first American woman to do so.

In company with her close friend, Millicent Duchess of Sutherland, she organised for a motor car to be fitted out as an ambulance, equipped with all the latest appliances for the care and comfort of up to four wounded soldiers and a nurse. In a war which was bloody from the start, there was a great need for such vehicles and a number of other society ladies made similar arrangements. Although licenced by the Red Cross, each were left to choose their own sphere of operations, and Maxine established herself at Boulogne-Sur-Mar where she worked hard twelve hours a day, caring for injured soldiers at aid stations and ferrying them to the base hospitals.

Then, conditions becoming desperate in Belgium, she stocked her ambulance with supplies and headed toward the battle lines in Flanders. To get there she had to brave conditions which she later described as "mud, blood and water", but she was determined to place herself where she could do the most good, often placing herself in danger to care for the soldiers, and even rescuing them at times.

But her experiences in Flanders brought to her attention an even greater problem - the desperate, and largely overlooked, plight of the civilian refugees in that region. Many thousands had been driven out of their homes by the shelling accompanying the German advance, and were forced to survive as best they might in the most appalling conditions. Shelter was scarce and makeshift, with every barn, pig-pen and hen-house, any structure in fact that still supported a roof, being packed with tatterdemalion humanity. Food was in desperately short supply, and even the drinking water was foul and dirty with many of the wells being polluted.

Maxine made up her mind to bring them succour, but the terrible road conditions made overland travel being almost impossible. So, with great ingenuity, she devised a scheme to outfit a barge and carry relief to the needy by way of the canals and waterways. She submitted her plan to the Belgian Minister of War who endorsed it wholeheartedly and secured for her a pass from the Commander In Chief of the Allies allowing her to travel in and around the Allied fighting lines. It was an unprecedented act for any woman to be given such open right of passage, and was made even more remarkable by the fact that she was not even a national of any the Allied nations (America would not enter the war for another three years).

All preparations for the smooth working of her scheme were made in London. She approached the Ambassador there for her American homeland and secured a promise of one hundred tons a month of foodstuffs from the American Relief Fund. But as well as food, she needed for all manner of good clothing, candles, matches, and cans of condensed milk for the babies and in response to her appeals these things, as well as donations of cash, were soon flooding in also. The publishing magnate, Lord Northcliffe, published her appeals for aid in the "Daily Mail" and "Times" and her brother-in-law Sir John Forbes-Robertson and Sister Gertrude, both prominent stage personalities, were tireless in promoting her cause at public appearances on both sides of the Atlantic as well as setting up concerts to raise war funds and organising entertainments for the troops.

Personal tragedy struck when news arrived of the death of her beau, Anthony Wilding, now a second lieutenant, bravely killed in action leading a charge against the Turks in the Dardanelles. This only steeled her determination even more, throwing herself into her work with even greater vigour.

Lord Devonport, head of the London Port provided storage facilities on the docks free of charge, and further supply bases were established at Folkestone and Calais. At Calais, she had arranged for the flour she received to be baked into thousands of loaves of bread at the local bakeries. Then the supplies, 130 tons at a time would be loaded on her barge, the "Julia", which Maxine would pilot herself on the arduous trip to Flanders to reach the starving refugees - accompanied only by her maid, two servants, and her great police dog "Dinah" (later she was given five soldiers as helpers by the government).

The "Julia" was 80 feet long and divided into three sections. The fore part provided storage for the tons of provisions, and the after compartments living and sleeping quarters for her small crew. The middle section meanwhile was equipped as a mobile mobile soup kitchen with big boilers capable of preparing twelve gallons of soup, coffee and/or cocoa at a time.

As she plied the canals and waterways a steady stream of refugees would come to her for aid, each armed with a certificate from the local burgomeister so that she would know they were genuine cases for charity.

In a letter from the front she wrote:
The pity of it clutches at the throat. I knew that war killed and maimed men and broke the hearts of women, but I never realised before how its chill hand laid icy on a nation's soul, arresting all life, slaying poor women and little children as surely and inexorably as the screaming shells rend the bodies of their husbands and fathers.

The Julia was rarely far from danger, or free of the fearful sound of exploding shells and whistling shrapnel. One one occasion a bomb exploded nearby, killing four and wounding eight in its vicinity. One of the victims was a young mother with a three week old child. She was killed outright and the babe in its mother's arm had a foot blown off. She placed the infant in a hospital, where she later reported it was doing well.

In another letter, speaking of the conditions, she wrote:
The guns are belching fire and thunder as I write, and the skyline is brilliant with their flashes. From the distance one cannot realise that it all means destruction and death until one sees the never-ending processions of ambulances with their dreadful loads of agony and broken lives.

And again:
At this moment I see the barge is shaking with the fury of a bombardment not far away, and to-morrow we shall see in the papers, "Situation unchanged — enemy repulsed," and I shall watch the loads of maimed and broken men go by as usual and wonder what it is all for. Two days ago a charming young Belgian officer named Roland came to see me, and the next day the back of his head was shot away. He is hovering between life and death in the hospital here now. The French authorities have ordered 600,000 more hospital beds. Think what they must be expecting with this impending advance — it makes one shudder with horror and revolt that such things can be.

Many of those she helped were children, many of whom had been orphaned or seperated from their parents in the chaos and confusion. On one occasion a local burgomeister handed in to her care seven such pitiful waifs (all under eight years of age), which she put into a home with a refugee woman, and kept supplied with food and clothing.

Another communication from the front spoke of another child she had rescued:
We also put a little typhoid girl of 12 there {the hospital at St. Idesbald}, one whom we found living in a dark hole in the eaves of a wretched hut. I had to climb up a rickety ladder to discover her, guided by the faint moaning. The rain was trickling through on the filthy straw where she was lying and one's eye could not penetrate the darkness to see what she was like. I had my first glimpse of her face on visiting the hospital today and found her a fair-haired pink and white pretty little thing, so happy to be in bed. The doctor says she will get well.

As her work continued, to relieve the pressure on the barge she established additional depots at Dumoch, near La Panne, and at Alveringhem, recruiting well-placed local women to oversee them.

She kept up the good work for almost two years, risking life and limb almost daily. But inevitably the constant strain on her nerves began to take offence and she was compelled to wind up the affairs of the barge and return home to rest. But by then she had seen the Belgians through their worst hour, clothing as many as 35,000 refugees besides distributing many hundreds of tons of foodstuffs.

It is quite remarkable to reflect that a woman who had become so accustomed to comfort and luxury and the adulation of others, would so readily cast herself into such deep personal privations to help those less fortunate than herself. And let us not forget that, as an American, there was no patriotic ardor behind her actions, not only were her beneficiaries not American, America was not yet even involved in the war. She acted not for love of her country, but for that even greater purpose, love of her fellow man. She cared not for nationality, only for the relief of suffering, even though it brought considerable danger and privation down upon herself. That she saved lives is without question. How many might have died from malnutrition without the food she brought them? from exposure without the warm clothing she wrapped them in? or from disease or various injuries without her tender ministrations? The figure cannot even be guessed at!

Deservedly, before leaving Belgium, King Albert of that country decorated her with the Cross of a Chevalier of the Order of the Crown, a silver cross bearing a gold crown which she proudly wore on her return to her homeland.

Reproduced below is a contemporary account of Maxine's activities.

THE INDIANAPOLIS STAR - April 11th, 1915
MAXINE ELLIOTT SEES WAR HORROR
Famous Stage Beauty, in Relief Work in Flanders, Administers to Hundreds of Wounded and Forsaken Civilians.
FINDS SUFFERING IS GREAT
Provides Scores of Deserted Families With Food and Medical Attention, Braving Weather, Bullets and Disease.

Dunkirk, France:, March 31 — (Correspondence of the Associated Press) — Still vigorously pushing her relief work close to the battle lines in Flanders, Maxine Elliott reports finding the Belgian refugees "stuffed like sardines in the barns, even In the pig-sties and hen houses — in fact, any place: that has a roof."

"I have still not been able to find any shelter for my ambulance within a radius of ten miles," she said to an Associated Press correspondent, who found her on that vehicle, ankle deep in mud and dripping with rain. I stuff the ambulance full daily with food and clothing and make the pitiful round of as many cases as I can."

"I recently wrote an open letter to 'My Own Countrywomen' in England for aid, but only English people responded. It was a great surprise to me, for I thought I might get help from America and little or nothing from England, but as usual the unexpected happened. From England I got a little more than $3,000 in cash and between $30,000 and $35,000 worth of stuff for the barge."

The "barge" is the "Julia" which the American actress herself conducted through the canals from Calais to the remote corners of West Flanders, to reach the starving refugees between the fighting fronts.

Conditions Pitiful.

"I can hardly describe to you the pitiful condition of these poor refugees," she continued. "Only today we have clothed twelve families from top to toe, from ten to fourteen persons in each family. It is impossible for them to find shelter and they are stuffed like sardines in the barns, even in the pig-sties and hen houses, In fact, in any place that has a roof.

"In a house close by eighty soldiers sleep on the ground floor, and in a tiny room adjoining are fragments of several families, fifteen persons in all. Two of the children are down with typhoid, one on the floor and one in an old biscuit box, and this is the sort of thing we encounter daily, but we have managed to make a great improvement in conditions though it is quite impossible to house them any better.

"There is not enough room for the army, and as many civilians as possible are sent away continually, but still they come on shelled out of their homes and buffeted about from one wretched place to another."

Bombs Ruin Bread Supply.

"I have arranged with a bakery close by to bake several hundred loaves of bread a day, and yesterday a bomb dropped in front of the door, killing a man and three horses. It tore a hole through one corner of the roof and broke every pane of glass in the bakery, and all the yeast and bread for the day's supply had to be thrown away — it was full of glass splinters. Several other bombs were thrown a little farther on, killing eight people in all. It seems much a senseless sort of warfare, for no one but little children and harmless civilians are the sufferers.

"What horror, horror, everywhere the glorious thing called war brings in its train. We see nothing but sad sights, and yet the people themselves are not sad. It is surprising what people can live through. There is a family of five living in a hand cart close by and have been there five months! They have roofed the top over with sacking and a strip of canvas and there they tuck themselves away and the soldiers feed them. Of course, the military authorities say the refugees are gone now because they don't see them with their little bundles crying by the roadside, but poor things, they have crowded into every available corner, and cling to the idea that they may be able to creep back to their homes when the bombarding ceases. By that time there won't be much left of their poor little homes I fear.

Get German Souvenirs.

"It seemed so incongruous the other sunday to hear the church bells chiming all day and the cannons keeping a dreadful accompaniment. In the evening a soldier brought us some German souvenirs taken from one of those killed the day before with 'Mit Gott fur Koenig und Faderland' on the helmet and 'Gott Mit Uns' on the belt.

"To relieve the pressure on my barge I have had to establish another depot at Dumoch near LaPanne and have taken in the wife of a commandant there, Mme, LeFavre, to help, as well as the wife of another officer, and I issue tickets for the people to present and obtain their supplies. I also give tickets on the local bakeries as well as at LaPanne and Bulscamp and have still another little depot at the burgomaster's. It is astounding to see the amount of relief the old 'Julia' is able to provide and I am so thankful.

"It is all organized now quite perfectly so that there is no waste and every bit of food and clothing goes where it is Intended. I see to that myself, Committees wait on me for miles and miles around, representing their own suffering little commune, and up to now I have been able to keep them all in some measure if not altogether".

Misery Is Appalling.

"One could not dream there was so much misery in the whole world. Babies apparently arrive every minute and from the wonderful cargo I have managed to fish out a lot of complete layettes. Kind people from Australia and South Africa even have sent me great quantities of things. One wonders where the family disappears when these poor women have their babies for there are never less than eight or ten persons in one tiny room. We got one into a hospital at St. Idesbald yesterday, and it was the nearest civilian hospital we could find — close to the firing line at that.

"We also put a little typhoid girl of 12 there, one whom we found living in a dark hole in the eaves of a wretched hut. I had to climb up a rickety ladder to discover her, guided by the fainting moaning. The rain was trickling through on the filthy straw where she was lying and one's eyes could not penetrate the darkness to see what she was like, so I had my first glimpse of her face on visiting the hospital today and found her such a fair-haired pink and white pretty little thing, so happy to be in a bed."

Future Is blackened.

"The doctor says she will get well, I am looking after her, of course, but one wonders sadly what can be the future of these fragments of families and the thousands and thousands of shattered homes. It is all so pitiful — so tragic — so monstrously wicked.

"At this moment I see the barge is shaking with the fury of a bombardment not far away, and tomorrow we shall see in the papers 'situation unchanged — enemy repulsed,' and I shall watch the loads of maimed and broken men go by as usual and wonder what it is all for. Two days ago a charming young Belgian officer named Roland came to see me, and the next day the back of his head was shot away. He Is hovering between life and death in the hospital here now. The French authorities have ordered 600,000 more hospital beds, think what they must be expecting with this impending advance — it makes one shudder with horror and revolt that such things can be."