But the situation in the United States was unlike that in Europe. In the US there were few Esperantists, and Esperanto classes had traditionally been free. In Europe the inviting Esperantist group had always paid Lidia's travel expenses. The money she received from her lessons depended on the number ofstudents who enrolled. But even in France, where the number of students had ranged from 20 to 182, Lidia never knew if there would be a hundred or a handful of students, so she could never be sure of her income.
Some Americans doubted that Lidia could earn enough from her classes in the US to support herself. The name ofZamenhof was much more familiar in Europe, and Esperanto was much better known there. Previous visits of eminent European Esperantists to America had been, in the words of one Esperantist, 'failures'.
Thus not all the American Esperantists were enthusiastic about sponsoring Lidia's trip. Because the Esperanto Association of North America was in financial difficulty, its general secretary discouraged bringing Lidia to America, but Ernest Dodge, chairman of the Executive Committee, was wholeheartedly in favor, saying he thought the idea 'inspiring and gripping'. Another well-known Esperantist felt that a visit by Lidia Zamenhof would 'not be a success' and that his 'local group would not care to take the responsibility of inviting Miss Zamenhof here, as it would be very unlikely that a class could be gotten together ..." Some seemed uneasy about Lidia's Baha'f afFiliation. 'It appears', wrote Samuel Eby from New York, 'that Miss Lidia Zamenhof, daughter of Dr Zamenhof, is a confirmed Bahaist.'
Both the Baha'fs and the Esperantists decided to postpone considering the matter, and it seemed Lidia's visit might not take place after all. Martha Root was not there to speed matters along: at Shoghi Effendi's instructions she was tgking a 'rest cure'.
Without a formal invitation, Lidia could not make plans and did not know what to do. Shoghi Effendi had written to her again in November 1936, and it was clear that he, at least, was in favor of the trip." 'Dear and valued co-worker:' he wrote, 'I have communicated with the American National Assembly and I feel confident that the American believers will be only too glad, and indeed eager, to extend to you a cordial welcome. Your services, past and present, are, I believe, but a prelude to a distinguished record of the services that will enrich the annals of God's Holy Faith. Persevere, nay redouble your valued and highly meritorious efforts.' That was enough for Lidia. Over the years she had formed a spiritual attachment to Shoghi Eflfendi which was one of loyalty and devotion. Ever since she had met him in Haifa, she had regarded his wishes as a binding command which she must obey, no matter where it might take her.
In January 1937 Martha confided to Della Quinlan: 'Privatejust to you. P. S. I had a letter from Lidia about two or three weeks ago and she is very eager to come if the Guardian wishes it. I wrote urging her to come if she feels she ought to and I believe Baha would help her. She had saved a little money to go to Persia for the Guardian told her to go to Persia but she couldn't go yet because of the nationalism there. Poor child, she doesn't know the conditions in our country, doesn't know what to do and she is praying hard for Guidance. Write her a line c/o MrsBorel. . .'
Besides the question of the formal invitation, something else troubled Lidia about going to America. All her life Lidia had been a public figure in the Esperanto world, even though, apart from her brief work as secretary of the student association, her involvement in the organized movement was mostly in an honorary capacity. As a Cseh teacher, for several years now she had earned her living by speaking to groups of strangers in foreign countries and had given many public speeches in front of hundreds of people. She had often presented Baha'f talks at the Esperanto congresses and had spoken about the Baha'f Faith before the Theosophical Society in several cities in France. But she had never spoken before large groups of Baha'is, and the prospect of doing so filled Lidia with anxiety. To stand up in front of fellow-believers and teaclv them something about their own Faith? What could she possibly tell them?
Lidia wrote Martha that she worried the Baha'fs might be expecting too much of her. 'My dear little mother: . . . Truly it seems that trip will come about ... I only fear at times that the matter will be misunderstood and that people will think I could be a Baha'i teacher, that is, that I could give talks, etc., to the believers - which I certainly could not do, and I beg you to make this point clear. I know you well indeed, and your too-high opinion of me, and know that if in conversation I should say that to you, you would at once exclaim, "Oh, yes, you could do it!" Therefore I beg you to present this point with absolute clarity because otherwise perhaps the NSA would be misinformed and even deceived. But certainly, and naturally, when I am among Esperantists I will try, as far as I am able, to acquaint them with the teachings of Baha'u'llah.'
Also, she told Martha, she did not feel able to give speeches in
English, even if she could read the text. She often had difficulty understanding Americans when they spoke and feared that in America people would not understand her if she spoke English with her Polish accent. In France she always used an interpreter for her talks.
Although Lidia had traveled throughout Europe, the prospect of going to America frightened her a little. She knew nothing about the country, and it was so far away.
In preparation for Lidia's visit, Della Quinlan sent her a 'Publicity Questionnaire' to fill out with background information in order to prepare press releases and to plan speaking engagements. Lidia's response to two of the questions illustrated the difference between her state of mind, as a Central European, and that of the Americans. The questionnaire asked, 'Are you free to travel anywhere in the country?' and, 'Are you free to travel to neighboring communities?' The Americans, who took their freedom for granted, simply wanted to know if Lidia would be available to travel anywhere. They must have been a bit perplexed by the graver interpretation she gave the questions, thinking they were inquiries as to whether she would be permitted freedom of movement in the United States. She wrote: 'I am not informed about any objections.'
The barriers between the peoples seemed to stand higher now than ever before. But even as the explosive situation in Europe seemed increasingly hopeless and people were becoming ever more cynical, Lidia refused to give up or to surrender to despair. On the contrary, now her work seemed even more crucial, for she knew that the time was short. With more urgency than ever, she raised her voice for unity and peace. In articles, radio broadcasts and lectures - directing her words often to women — she admonished people to work for true understanding among the nations and races, and to demand peace. And she warned those who would listen that the war toward which Europe was rushing would be far more terrible than the 'Great War' of 1914-18. In a chilling allegorical story about a mysterious musician, she wrote of the fascination some people seemed to have for the coming catastrophe.
'Before the strange artist came to the land', she wrote, 'his fame had spread through cities, towns and even villages.' His music was said to shake the very souls of men, and there was great excitement about his coming concert. But the price of tickets was high, very high. Nevertheless, the public besieged the concert hall, eager to see the famed pianist. But it seemed that the secretive musician required the hall to be in complete darkness before he would play. Some, especially the women, protested; but at last, in the name of art, all the lights were put out.
When the artist entered, all could feel his presence. And when the music began, it was like nothing they had ever heard. 'One might think that it was not the voice of the piano, that the artist was hitting the chords of nature itself, making them weep, wail and howl, making them moan, roar, fill with terror . . .'