From the 22 October 1914 issue of The New York Times.

GEN. LEE’S DAUGHTER MOURNS THIS WAR


She Is Almost for Peace at Any Price After Seeing Both Sides of the Fighting.


PRAISES THE GERMANS


Admires Kitchener and Likes the British, but Deprecates Epithets Such as Huns and Vandals.


Special Cable to THE NEW YORK TIMES.

LONDON, Oct. 21.—Miss Mary Lee, the only surviving daughter of Gen. Robert E. Lee, has just reached London from Hamburg via Rotterdam, and to-day she gave the correspondent of THE NEW YORK TIMES a striking interview at Hyde Park Hotel, where she will stop until she sails for America.

“I am a soldier’s daughter,” she said, “and descended from a long line of soldiers, but what I have seen of this war, and what I can foresee of the misery which must follow, have made me very nearly a peace-at-any-price woman.”

A battalion of Lord Kitchener’s new army was marching by directly beneath the room in which Miss Lee was speaking. They started to sing “It’s a Long Way to Tipperary,” and Miss Lee, who had never heard this now imperishable music hall ballad, went to the window and stood for some time silently looking at the column of khaki-clad men below her. When she turned to speak again there were tears in her eyes, and her voice broke.

“My father often used to say,” she said, looking straight at a table on which was a picture of Lord Kitchener, autographed by “K. of K.” himself no longer ago than last Christmas, “that war was a terrible alternative, and should be the very last. I have remembered those words in the last three months, and I often wonder and wonder with many misgivings if in this case war was the last alternative. As I say, I am a soldier’s daughter, and got my first full view of life in the dark days of one of the world’s great civil wars, but it has been an altering experience for me to watch, one week in Germany and the next week in England, the handsome, the strong, the brave of both countries marching away to kill or to get killed, perhaps to return no more, perhaps to return maimed and useless men. My father used to say it was not those who were killed in battle—often a quick and always a glorious death for a soldier—but those who, crippled and mangled and enfeebled, faced after the war a world that they could not understand and that had no palce for them.

“I think of all of this and ask myself why must it be? What can be worth it? I feel close to the English people, and particularly close to the English Army. I have known many English officers and their wives and daughters. Last Winter, in Egypt, I had the privilege of seeing something of Lord Kitchener, and I have a high admiration for him. But much of what I see in the English press seems hysterical and without reason. The spy mania, for instance, and the senseless calling the Germans Huns and Vandals. I have known many German military men, and I cannot believe that these men are what the English imagination has painted them.

“From the beginning of the war I have been neutral. I have tried to follow President Wilson’s advice in word and deed. My sympathy is with suffering wherever it exists—with the brave men who are fighting and suffering in the trenches and the brave women who, in practically all the homes of Europe, are waiting and suffering.”