The Pomp of Yesterday Part 38

'But the big bill will have to be paid, my friend. There are no signs of it now, but the country can't spend all these millions every day without suffering for it later on,' and I saw a thoughtful look come into his eyes as they wandered round the room.

After tea we went for a walk along the streets, and then, at half-past seven, I took him to another fashionable hotel, where I had ordered dinner. Again we saw a similar crowd, met with similar scenes. Whatever London might be feeling, the fashionable part of it had determined to enjoy itself. At night we went to another theatre, which was also packed to the ceiling with a gay throng. Here also were crowds of soldiers, many of whom were, I judged, like ourselves, home from the front.

Edgec.u.mbe pa.s.sed no opinion on the play, or on the spectators. That he was deeply interested, was evident, although I think his interest was more in the audience than the performers.

'I am tired,' I said, when the entertainment was over; 'let's get to bed.'

'No, not yet, I want to see London by night. All this, to you, Lus...o...b.., is commonplace. I dare say it would be to me if my memory came back. As it is, it is all new and strange to me. It is exciting me tremendously.

I am like one seeing the show for the first time.'

By this time London was at its busiest, crowds surged everywhere.

'Buses, taxi-cabs, and motors threaded their way through the streets, while the foot pavements were crowded. Places of amus.e.m.e.nt were emptying themselves on every hand, and although the streets were darkened, it seemed to have no effect upon the spirits of the people. The night was fairly clear, and a pale moon showed itself between the clouds.

'What a city it is!' said Edgec.u.mbe, after we had been walking some time.

'Think of it, the centre of the British Empire, the great heart which sends its life-blood through the veins of a mighty people! But is the life-blood pure, my friend?'

We pa.s.sed up Charing Cross to Leicester Square, and then on through Piccadilly Circus up Regent Street, then we came down again, through the Haymarket, into Pall Mall. I am not going to describe what we saw, nor tell in detail the experiences through which we pa.s.sed. That ghastly story of gilded vice, and of corruption which is not ashamed, was too sad, too pathetic. The Empire might be in danger, even then there might be Zeppelins hovering in the near distance, waiting to drop missiles of destruction and death. Less than two hundred miles away our armies were fighting, guns were booming, sh.e.l.ls were shrieking, men were dying. But here in London, on the eve of the Day of Rest, the tide of iniquity rolled. Young men were tempted, and falling; many of the very lads who had done heroic deeds were selling their souls for half an hour's pleasure.

In spite of the drink regulations, too, it was easy to see that numbers, both men and women, had been able to obtain it, often to their own degradation.

'Come on,' said Edgec.u.mbe presently, 'let's get back to the hotel. I've had enough.'

CHAPTER XXVIII

SUNSHINE AND SHADOW

During the remainder of Edgec.u.mbe's leave we spent our time in seeing and trying to understand London. As he had insisted, London was the centre of the British Empire; the great heart which sent its life-blood throughout the veins of four hundred millions of people. To understand London, therefore, was to understand the aims, hopes and ideals of the British race. Of course I urged that London was not England, much less the Empire; but I could not help admitting that there was much truth in his contention.

Naturally we did not see our metropolis in its entirety. To know London means a lifetime's study; but we did get a superficial glimpse of its life, and we tried to understand the inwardness of that life.

On the day after the incidents described in the last chapter we visited several churches; we also made our way into Hyde Park, and heard the orators. We interviewed several ecclesiastics both of the Established and Nonconformist order, and if ever a man was depressed it was Edgec.u.mbe.

'These religious organizations do not touch a t.i.the of the people,' he said to me. 'London is called a Christian City, but it is far more pagan than Christian. The people are not interested in religious things, and even among churchgoers everything seems unreal.'

He was led to modify this opinion later. He saw that while the City was in one sense largely G.o.dless, it was in another deeply religious. He realized that, in spite of apparent religious indifference, the teachings of the Founder of Christianity, and the truths for which He lived and died, had, through the centuries, created an atmosphere which influenced every phase of thought and life.

But he did not feel this during the two Sundays we spent together. As far as we could see, only a small fragment of the people entered the doors of the churches, and that even this fragment was filled with no mighty religious hope or enthusiasm.

One sermon, however, struck him forcibly. It was preached by a young man who took for his text, 'And they that were ready went into the marriage feast.' The argument of the sermon was that G.o.d gave neither individuals nor nations the highest of blessings until they were ready, and he urged that until England was ready for peace G.o.d would not give it her. That until we became less materialistic, less selfish, until we ceased to exploit the war as a means for advancing our own interest, and until we turned to G.o.d and kept His commandments, real peace would be a far-off dream.

But I must not stay to describe this at length; indeed, a volume would be necessary to give any true idea of our experiences. We saw London by night as well as by day. We went to munition factories and to night clubs, to hospitals and to music-halls, to seats of Government and to haunts of vice. We talked with hundreds of people of all kinds, and from the drift of their conversation tried to understand the spirit of the City.

I shall never forget the look on Edgec.u.mbe's face after our visit to a hospital for soldiers who suffered from a disease which shall be nameless. The horror in his eyes and the absolute nausea and loathing which possessed him has haunted me ever since.

But there were sights which rejoiced him also. The splendid sacrifices which unnumbered people, both men and women, were making, and the great broad-hearted charity which abounded on every hand, made him realize not only the bad but the good, and led him to realize that beneath the mad whirl of evil pa.s.sions which was too evident, was a life sacred and sublime.

Presently, however, our peregrinations came to an end. Edgec.u.mbe had appeared before a medical officer, and was declared fit for duty again.

He had also received orders to return to his battery, while I daily waited instructions as to my future course of action.

'We have had a wonderful time, Lus...o...b..,' he said. 'I little dreamt, when we started out to see London, what it would be like.'

'Well, what do you think of it all?'

'I am bewildered,' he replied; 'it is all too big to co-ordinate. I want to get a grasp of everything. I want to see things in their true proportion. I want to understand.'

We had just come from the Crystal Palace, where so many thousands of our sailors are quartered, and had been talking with the workers of the Y.M.C.A. concerning their activities there.

'You will never be able to co-ordinate it, Edgec.u.mbe,' I said. 'No man can understand fully the life of a great city like this.'

'No, I suppose not. Still, I am trying to think my way through it.'

'Anyhow,' I said, 'you have to return to duty tomorrow. Let us forget the serious things of life for once. By the way,' I added, 'have you heard from Miss Lorna Bolivick?'

For some seconds he did not reply, and I thought he did not hear what I said. His face was a curious study at the time, and I wondered what he was thinking about.

'No,' he replied presently, 'I have not heard from her. Naturally I did not expect to.'

During the whole time we had spent in London together, he had never once referred to her, and I imagined, and almost hoped, that he had seen the madness of the determination he had expressed when we were down in Devonshire.

'You have given up all thought of her, then?'

'Given up all thought of her? Certainly not. You know what I told you?'

'Yes, but I thought you might have seen how foolish you were.'

'I shall never give up hope,' he replied; 'that is, until hope is impossible. Whatever made you think of such a thing?'

'But do you not see the madness of your plan?'

'No, there is nothing mad in it. By the way, Lus...o...b.., I am awfully hungry. Let us go in here and get some dinner. Don't think, old man, that I can't see your point of view,' he said when we had taken our seats in the dining-room of the restaurant, 'I can. From your standpoint, for a man in my position, without name, without home, without friends, without money, to aspire to the hand of Lorna Bolivick, is to say that he is fit for a lunatic asylum. But I can't see things as you do. G.o.d Almighty didn't put this love in my heart for nothing, a love which has been growing every day since I saw her. Why, man, although I have said nothing to you, she is everything to me, everything! That is, from the personal standpoint. If I did not believe in G.o.d, I should despair, but, believing in Him, despair is impossible.'

'G.o.d does not give us everything we want,' I replied; 'it would not be good for us if He did. Possibly He has other plans for her.'

'That may be so,' he replied calmly, 'but I am going to act as though He meant her for me.'

I looked across the dining-hall as he spoke, and saw, sitting not far away from us, a party which instantly attracted my attention.

'I should not, if I were you,' I said.

'Why?'

'Look!' I replied, nodding towards the table I had noticed.

He gave a start, for sitting at the table were Sir Thomas and Lady Bolivick and their daughter Lorna. Sitting beside the latter was Springfield.