For a moment the statesman seemed nonplussed, and I could see that Edgec.u.mbe was impressing him in spite of himself. He spoke quietly, but with evident intense conviction, and there was something in his personality that commanded respect. On his tunic, too, he wore his decorations, the decorations which proved him to be a man of courage and resource. There was no suggestion of weakness or of fanaticism in his manner. Every word, every movement, spoke of a strong, brave, determined man.

'Then what would you do?' he asked almost helplessly.

'It is scarcely a matter of what I would do,' replied Edgec.u.mbe. 'I am here as an inquirer, and I came to the House of Commons to-night in order to understand the standpoint from which the Government looks at this tremendous question.'

'And your conclusion is----?'

'That G.o.d's forgotten. It is not looked upon as a religious war at all,--everything is reduced to the level of brute force. As far as I can read the newspapers, never, since the first few months of the war, or at least very rarely, has there been any endeavour to make the people realize this ghastly business from a religious standpoint, while the soldiers never hear a word from week end to week end of the purposes for which they are fighting.'

'You can't make soldiers religious if they don't want to be,' said the Minister, weakly I thought.

'I don't say you can,' replied Edgec.u.mbe, 'but you can do something to lift the whole thing above its present sordid level, and give them a high and holy courage.'

'They _have_ courage,' replied the Minister. 'As you have been at the front, you know what a splendid lot of men they are.'

'No man knows better,--a finer lot of fellows never breathed. But look at facts, think of the forces which have opposed them, and remember how they have been handicapped? Drink has been one of our great curses in this country; it has been one of our greatest hindrances. Even the Prime Minister insisted upon it almost pathetically. When we lacked munitions, and our men were being killed for want of them, drink was the princ.i.p.al interest to their manufacture. You of course know what Mr. Lloyd George said in 1915: "Without spending one penny on additional structures, without putting down a single additional machine, without adding to the supervision of the men, but on the contrary lessening the supervision, we could, by putting down the drink, by one act of sacrifice on the part of the nation, win through to victory for our country." Yet the Government has only played with the drink question, as far as the country is concerned, and it has kept on supplying it to the boys abroad. Everyone knows it has lowered the standard of our national life, intellectually, morally, and spiritually. And yet the thing continues. Is that the way to fight G.o.d's battles? Vested interests seem of more importance than purity and righteousness, while the men who make huge fortunes out of this traffic are coroneted.'

'Good night, Lus...o...b..,' said the Cabinet Minister rising. 'I must be going now. This conversation has been very interesting, but I am afraid I cannot see as your friend sees.'

A few minutes later, we stood outside the great Government building. We were in the heart of London, the great city which so largely focuses the life of our world-wide Empire. Close to us, the towers of the Abbey lifted their pinnacles into the grey sky, while St. Margaret's Church looked almost small and diminutive by its side. Up Whitehall we could see the dim outlines of the great Government buildings, while the broad thoroughfare pulsated with the roaring traffic.

For some seconds Edgec.u.mbe did not speak, then he burst out excitedly.

'It's a wonderful old city, isn't it? The finest, grandest city in the world! Do you know, it casts a kind of spell upon me. I sometimes think there is more good in London than in any other place.'

'Any one would not think so, judging by your conversation just now,' I laughed.

'But there is,' he said. 'Why, think of the kindness and loving service shown to the returning soldiers! Think of the thousands of women who are giving their lives to nursing them and caring for them! Come on,' and he moved towards Westminster Bridge.

'That's not the way back to the hotel.'

'I am not going back to the hotel yet,' he said.

'Where are you going, then?'

'To Waterloo station. There will be trains coming in from the coast. I want to see what happens to the soldiers who are coming back from the front.'

CHAPTER XXVII

SEEING LONDON

I am not going to write at length on what we saw at Waterloo station, and in its vicinity. In a way, our experiences were interesting beyond words, and while there was much which made one rejoice, there was also much to sadden. While we were there, a train came in laden with troops.

Hundreds of men had come home on leave, and they had now arrived at this great terminus. What rejoiced me was to see the number of Y.M.C.A.

workers, as well as others from various Christian bodies, who met the men and welcomed them. Of course there were numbers who were eagerly welcomed by their friends; others had evidently made their plans to get back to their homes quickly, while many more seemed bewildered and lonely. Lads who had originally hailed from Canada and Australia, and who knew nothing of London, looked around the huge station as though not knowing what to do, and if ever I felt glad because of the work of the Y.M.C.A., I felt it then. They seemed to have a kind of genius for knowing the men who were without friends, and for giving them a hearty welcome back.

I knew that, scattered all over London, were Huts and Hostels which they have provided for these lads who were strangers in a strange city, and that many of them would be taken to these places, given a hot supper, and provided with a comfortable bed. I know, too, while the lads were under the influence of the Y.M.C.A., no harm would happen to them, that they would be surrounded by good and healthy influences, and that as many of them who had no homes in England could stay at the Hostels during their leave.

But there were other influences at work. Not only were there these n.o.ble bands of workers, who existed for our soldiers' comfort and salvation,--there were scores of evil women who hovered around waiting like vultures to swoop upon their prey.

It is difficult to write about, difficult to contemplate. Scores of these boys, who for months had been away at the front, living without many refining influences, living, too, under strict discipline amidst all the stress and horror of war, were suddenly given their liberty, and let loose in our great City. Most of them would have plenty of money, for there are few opportunities of spending at the front, and they would be freed from all restrictions. Then their danger began. Lads, many of them inspired by no religious ideals, excited by their liberty, with no restraint of any sort placed upon them, became an easy prey to those who looked upon them as victims. The angels of light were there to help them, but there were also many creatures of darkness who lured them to destruction, and these creatures of darkness were allowed to ply their ghastly trade often without let or hindrance.

I could not help feeling the tragedy of it. These lads who had been living from hour to hour, and from minute to minute, amidst the roar of great guns, the shriek of sh.e.l.ls, the pep-pep-pep of machine-guns, never knowing when death would come, were suddenly and without preparation thrown upon the bosom of our great modern Babylon; and on their return they were met by these creatures.

'It is ghastly, it is h.e.l.lish!' said Edgec.u.mbe, as we returned across Waterloo Bridge.

'What can be done?' I asked helplessly.

'These fellows should be safeguarded,' he replied. 'Oh, I know the difficulties, but those creatures should be dealt with with a strong hand; they should not be allowed in such places. The boys coming home from danger and death should be protected from such temptations. It is not a thing to talk about, not a thing to discuss in public; but think of the inwardness of it, think of the ghastly diseases, the loss of manhood, the corruption of soul, that follows in the train of what we have seen,--and it is going on all over London.'

'You can't put down vice by Act of Parliament,' I replied.

'No, but a great deal more can be done than is done,' was his answer.

'People don't talk about these things in their drawing-rooms, or in their social circles, but they exist,--my G.o.d, they exist! And this is supposed to be a holy war! Still, thank G.o.d for the good that is being done, for the organizations which exist for men's comfort and salvation.'

And then he did not speak another word until we reached the hotel.

The next day was Sat.u.r.day, and directly after lunch we started to go together to a matinee, for Edgec.u.mbe had stated his determination to visit the places of amus.e.m.e.nt and see how London enjoyed itself.

We begun by going to one of the largest and most popular music-halls in the City, where a revue which was much commented on was produced for the delectation of all who cared to see it.

I was informed that this particular place was much patronized by soldiers, and that the entertainment was one of the most popular in London. The prices of the seats varied from half a guinea, plus the War tax, to a shilling, and as we entered we found a vast concourse of people, among whom were many men in khaki. I discovered too that the management had been generous, for there were numbers of wounded soldiers, many of them in the stalls, and who had been given free admission.

'After all, it is fine,' I said, as we waited for the curtain to rise, 'that these lads should have a place of brightness and amus.e.m.e.nt to go to.'

'Yes,' replied Edgec.u.mbe, 'in a way it is splendid.'

'The people of the country are wonderfully good,' I went on; 'soldiers in the hospitals, as well as others home on leave, are constantly being given hospitality by the best and kindest people in England. I hope these chaps'll have a good laugh this afternoon, and be able to forget the horrors through which they have pa.s.sed. They have had enough of the tragedy of life, poor chaps. I hope they'll get some comedy this afternoon.'

'I hope they will,' he replied.

I will not attempt to give a description of the revue they witnessed that afternoon. I suppose it was similar to a score of others that might be seen in various parts of the metropolis. There was an excellent orchestra, the music was light and pleasing, the whole atmosphere of the place was merry. The lights were dazzling, the dresses were gay, the scenery almost magnificent. As a spectacle it would, I suppose, be regarded as gorgeous. Apparently, too, most of the auditors enjoyed it, although a look of boredom was on some faces. As to the revue itself, while one could not help admitting that some of the songs were humorous, and some of the repartee clever, the thing as a whole was cheap and silly and vulgar.

I do not say there was anything positively wrong in it, but there were a great many vulgar suggestions and unpleasant innuendoes. As a dramatic critic said in my hearing a day or two later, when discussing the popular entertainments of London, 'Most of these shows consist of vulgar, brainless twaddle.' Still, the audience laughed and cheered, and when the curtain finally fell, there was a good deal of applause. Certainly the entertainment would be a great contrast to the experiences which the lads who were home on leave had been going through. But as I reflect on it now, and think of the great struggle through which the nation was going, and the ideals for which it was fighting, I cannot remember one single word that would help or inspire. Of course places of amus.e.m.e.nt are not intended to instruct or to fill one with lofty emotions. All the same, I could not help feeling that laughter and enjoyment were in no way incompatible with the higher aims of the drama. In fact, what we saw was not drama at all; it was a caricature of life, and a vulgar one at that.

Indeed, the author's purpose seemed to be--that is, a.s.suming he had a purpose--to teach that virtue was something to be laughed at, that vice was pleasant, and that sin had no evil consequences.

Indeed, while I am anything but a puritan, I felt sorry that the hundreds of lads home from the front, many of whom were wounded, had no better fare offered to them. G.o.d knows I would be the last to detract from their honest enjoyment, and I would make their leave bright and happy; but after all, the nation was at war, life was a struggle, and death stalked triumphant, and this was but a poor mental and moral food for men who, for months, had been pa.s.sing through an inferno, and many of whom would, in a few weeks or days, go back again to see 'h.e.l.l let loose.' If those men had been merely fighting animals, if they were mere creatures of a day, who went out of existence when the sun went down, then one could understand; but they were men with hopes, and fears, and longings; men into whose nostrils G.o.d had breathed the breath of His own life, men destined for immortality. And this show was pagan from end to end.

When the entertainment was over, I led the way to a fashionable hotel for tea, where a large and handsomely decorated room was set apart for that purpose. A gay crowd of some hundreds had already gathered when we arrived, so that there was a difficulty in obtaining a table. This crowd had evidently, like ours, come from the various places of amus.e.m.e.nt in the immediate vicinity, and had managed to get there earlier than we.

The men folk were mostly officers, while the women were, I imagine, in the main their relatives and friends. The latter were very gaily and expensively dressed. As far as I can remember, the cost of a very poor tea was half a crown for each person. Every one appeared in great good humour, and laughter was the order of the day.

'Not much suggestion here that the country's at war, eh?' I said, looking round the room, 'and but few evidences that the appeals to the public to economize have been taken very deeply to heart.'

'No,' replied Edgec.u.mbe, 'except for the khaki, it would be difficult to believe that the country is at war. Still, I suppose it is natural.

Most of these lads are home on leave, and their women folk want them to enjoy themselves. This is their way of doing it.'

'It shows that money is plentiful,' I said; 'we are a long way from bankruptcy yet.'