The Pomp of Yesterday Part 44

Then followed the greatest scene I have ever seen at any public gathering. For some time Edgec.u.mbe seemed to forget who he was, or to whom he spoke; he was simply carried away by what seemed to him the burning needs of the times. He spoke of the way thousands of young fellows were ruined, and of the facilities which existed for their ruin. He told of scenes he had seen in France, scenes which took place when the men were 'back for rest,' and were 'out for a good time.' He described what we had witnessed together in London. He showed, too, in burning words that the two outstanding evils, 'Drink and Impurity,'

were indissolubly a.s.sociated, and that practically nothing was done to stem the tide of impurity and devilry which flowed like a mighty flood.

'I say this deliberately,' he said, 'it is nothing short of a blood-red crime, it is blasphemy against the Holy Spirit of G.o.d, to call men from the four corners of the earth to fight for a great cause like ours, and then to allow temptations to stand at every corner to lure them to destruction. Some one has described in glowing terms the work of the Y.M.C.A., and I can testify the truth of those terms, but ask Y.M.C.A.

workers what is the greatest hindrance to their work, and they will tell you it is the facilities for drink, drink which so often leads to impurity, and all the ghastly diseases that follows in its train.

'How can you expect G.o.d's blessing to rest upon us, while the souls of men are being d.a.m.ned in such a way?'

'What would you do?' cried some one, when the wild burst of cheering which greeted his words ceased.

'Do?' he cried. 'At least every man here can determine, G.o.d helping him, to fight against the greatest foe of our national life. You can determine that you will leave nothing undone to strangle this deadly enemy. Personally, after seeing what I have seen, and knowing what I know, I will make no terms with it. Even now, if a fortune were offered me, made by drink, I would not benefit by it. But more, you can besiege the Government, you can give it no rest until it has removed one of the greatest hindrances to victory.

'What England needs is to realize that G.o.d lives, and to turn to Him in faith and humility. Just so long as we remain in a state of religious indifference, just so long will the war continue; and just so soon as we give our lives to Him, and put our trust in Him, just so soon will victory be seen. G.o.d has other ways of speaking than by big guns. G.o.d spoke, and lo, all the pomp of the Czars became the byword of children!

G.o.d will speak again, and all the vain glory of the Kaiser will become as the fairy stories of the past!'

I know that what I have written gives no true idea of Edgec.u.mbe's message. The words I have set down give but faint suggestions of the outpourings of a heart charged with a mighty purpose. For he spoke like a man inspired, and he lifted the whole audience to a higher level of thought, and life, and purpose. People who had listened with a bored expression on their faces during the other speeches, were moved by his burning words. Club loungers who had been cynical and unbelieving half an hour before, now felt the reality of an unseen Power.

Then came the climax to all that had gone before. No sooner had Edgec.u.mbe sat down than the chairman rose again.

'You wonder perhaps,' he said, 'who it is that has been speaking to us.

You know by his uniform that he is a soldier, and you know he is a brave man by the decoration on his tunic, but few I expect know, as I have just learnt, that this is Major Edgec.u.mbe, the story of whose glorious career is given in to-day's newspapers.'

If the meeting was greatly moved before, it now became frenzied in its enthusiasm. Cheer after cheer rose, while the great audience rose to its feet. All realized that he spoke not as a theorist and a dreamer, but as a man who had again and again offered his life for the country he loved, and the cause in which he believed--a man, not only great in courage, but skilful in war, and wise in counsel.

When the excitement had somewhat ceased, an old clergyman, who had been sitting at the back of the platform, came to the front.

'Let us pray,' he said, and a great hush rested on every one, while he led the mult.i.tude in prayer.

When the meeting finally broke up, the General who had spoken earlier in the evening came and shook Edgec.u.mbe by the hand.

'This meeting is worth more to win the war than an army corps,' he said.

CHAPTER x.x.xIII

THE LIFTED CURTAIN

The following morning the papers contained lengthy reports of the meeting, and spoke in no sparing terms of the influence of Edgec.u.mbe's words on the great crowd. He appeared to be depressed, however.

'It may be only a pa.s.sing sensation,' he said. 'Still, I couldn't help doing what I did.'

We had barely finished breakfast when a telegram was brought to me,

'Come at once and bring your friend. Wire time I may expect you.--BOLIVICK.'

'There,' I said, pa.s.sing it to Edgec.u.mbe, 'there's dispatch for you.'

A few minutes later we were in a taxi, on our way to Paddington, and a few hours later we arrived at Bolivick.

We had barely alighted from the conveyance when Edgec.u.mbe gave a start.

'Look,' he said, 'both Springfield and St. Mabyn are there.'

'Yes,' I replied lightly, 'and Lorna too. Don't you see her in her nurse's uniform?'

His face was set and rigid as the greetings took place; but he had evidently put a strong check upon himself, and spoke naturally.

'Glad to see you, Lus...o...b..,' cried Sir Thomas, 'and you too, Major Edgec.u.mbe. Let me congratulate you on your wonderful career. It's almost like a fairy story!'

'Let me add my congratulations,' cried Springfield. 'I pay my tribute, not only to the soldier, but to the orator.'

I could not fail to detect the sneer in his voice, even although he seemed to speak heartily. A copy of _The Times_ was lying on the lawn, and I imagined that Edgec.u.mbe's speech had been read and discussed.

'We shall be quite a party to dinner to-night,' said Sir Thomas to me presently. 'Of course you must expect scanty fare, as we are carrying out the rationing order to the very letter. But it's an important occasion all the same. Lord Carbis is coming by the next train.

Please don't say anything about it. No one knows but my wife and myself. I want to give a surprise to both Lorna and Springfield.'

My heart became as heavy as lead, for I knew what he had in his mind, and I looked towards Edgec.u.mbe, wondering if he had heard anything. It was evident he had heard nothing, however; he was talking to Norah Blackwater, who was again a visitor to Bolivick.

'By the way,' went on Sir Thomas, 'that fellow Edgec.u.mbe has developed wonderfully, hasn't he? Of course what he said last night was so much nonsense. I quite agree that it's very sad about--that--is--some of the things he talked about, but as to the rest,--it was moonshine.'

'You wouldn't have said so if you'd been there, Sir Thomas,' I ventured.

'Something's going to happen, Lus...o...b..,' Edgec.u.mbe said to me as presently we found our way to our rooms.

'Why do you say so?'

'I don't know. But there is. It's in the air we breathe. I know I'm right.'

'What's the matter with you?' I asked, looking at him intently.

'Nothing. Yes there is though. I'm feeling mighty queer.'

'Are you ill?'

'No, nothing of the sort. But I'm nervous. I feel as though great things were on foot. The air is charged with great things. Something big is going to take place.'

He was silent a few seconds, and then went on, 'I had a long talk with a doctor in France a few days ago.'

'What doctor? What did he tell you?' I asked eagerly.

'One of our men out there. He had a big practice as a consulting physician in Harley Street until a few months ago, when he offered himself to the Army. He is a nerve specialist, and years ago paid great attention to brain troubles. He was so kind to me, and was such an understanding fellow that I told him my story. He was awfully interested, and said that he never knew but one case where loss of memory had continued so long as it had with me.'

'Did he give you any hope?' I asked.

He shook his head doubtfully. 'He would not say anything definite. He seemed to think that as my general health had been good for so long, and as my memory had not come back, it might be a very long time before there was any change. All the same, he felt sure that it was only a matter of time. He seemed to regard my trouble as a kind of artificial barrier which divided the past from the present, but that time would constantly wear away the barrier. He also said that if some very vivid and striking happening were to take place, something that was vitally connected with my past, it might suddenly pierce it--tear it aside, and let in the light.'