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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:45:27 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:45:27 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/14823-0.txt b/14823-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..63ef237 --- /dev/null +++ b/14823-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3590 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14823 *** + +[Illustration: DONALD HANKEY] + +A + +STUDENT IN ARMS + +SECOND SERIES + +BY + +DONALD HANKEY + +WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY J. ST. LOE STRACHEY + +EDITOR OF _THE SPECTATOR_ + + +NEW YORK + +B.P. DUTTON & CO. + +681 FIFTH AVENUE + + + + +Published 1917 BY E.P. DUTTON & CO. + + + + +CONTENTS + + PAGE + + SOMETHING ABOUT "A STUDENT IN ARMS" 1 + + AUTHOR'S FOREWORD 33 + + I.--THE POTENTATE 37 + + II.--THE BAD SIDE OF MILITARY SERVICE 51 + + III.--THE GOOD SIDE OF "MILITARISM" 65 + + IV.--A MONTH'S REFLECTIONS 79 + + V.--ROMANCE 93 + + VI.--IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS (I) 109 + + VII.--THE FEAR OF DEATH IN WAR 115 + + VIII.--IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS (II) 127 + + IX.--THE WISDOM OF "A STUDENT IN ARMS" 139 + + X.--IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS (III) 145 + + XI.--LETTER TO AN ARMY CHAPLAIN 153 + + XII.--"DON'T WORRY" 165 + + XIII.--IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS (IV) 175 + + XIV.--A PASSING IN JUNE, 1915 181 + + XV.--MY HOME AND SCHOOL: + + I MY HOME 199 + + II SCHOOL 216 + + SOME NOTES ON THE FRAGMENT OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY BY "HILDA" 237 + + + + +SOMETHING ABOUT "A STUDENT IN ARMS" + +BY H.M.A.H. + + +"His life was a Romance of the most noble and beautiful kind." So says +one who has known him from childhood, and into how many dull, hard +and narrow lives has he not been the first to bring the element of +Romance? + +He carried it about with him; it breathes through his writings, +and this inevitable expression of it gives the saying of one of his +friends, that "it is as an artist that we shall miss him most," the +more significance. + +And does not the artist as well as the poet live forever in his works? +Is not the breath of inspiration that such alone can breathe into the +dull clods of their generation bound to be immortal? + +Meanwhile, his "Romance" is to be written and his biographer will be +one whose good fortune it has been to see much of the "Student" in +Bermondsey, the place that was the forcing-house of his development. +In the following pages it is proposed only to give an outline of his +life, and particularly the earlier and therefore to the public unknown +parts. + +Donald Hankey was born at Brighton in 1884; he was the seventh child +of his parents, and was welcomed with excitement and delight by a +ready-made family of three brothers and two sisters living on his +arrival amongst them. He was the youngest of them by seven years, and +all had their plans for his education and future, and waited jealously +for the time when he should be old enough to be removed from the +loving shelter of his mother's arms and be "brought up." + +His education did, as a matter of fact, begin at a very early age; for +one day, when he was perhaps about three years old, dressed in a white +woolly cap and coat, and out for his morning walk, a neighbouring baby +stepped across from his nurse's side and with one well-directed blow +felled Donald to the ground! Donald was too much astonished and hurt +at the sheer injustice of the assault to dream of retaliation, but +when they reached home and his indignant nurse told the story, he was +taken aside by his brothers and made to understand that by his failure +to resist the assault, and give the other fellow back as good as he +gave, "the honour of the family" was impugned! He was then and there +put through a systematic course of "the noble art of self-defence." +"And I think," said one of his brothers only the other day, "that he +was prepared to act upon his instructions should occasion arise." +It will be seen from this incident that his bringing-up was of a +decidedly strenuous character and likely to make Donald's outlook on +life a serious one! + +He was naturally a peace-loving and philosophical little boy, very +lovable and attractive with his large clear eyes with their curious +distribution of colour--the one entirely blue and the other three +parts a decided brown--the big head set proudly on the slender little +body, and the radiant illuminating smile, that no one who knew him +well at any time of his life can ever forget. It spoke of a light +within, "that mysterious light which is of course not physical," as +was said by one who met him only once, but was quick to note this +characteristic. + +Donald's more strenuous times were in the boys' holidays--those +tumultuous of seasons so well known to the members of all big +families! His eldest brother, Hugh, was bent on making an all-round +athlete of him; another brother saw in him an embryo county cricketer, +while a third was most particular about his music, giving him lessons +on the violoncello with clockwork regularity. The games were terribly +thrilling and dangerous, especially when the schoolroom was turned +into a miniature battlefield, with opposing armies of tiny lead +soldiers. But Donald never turned a hair if Hugh were present, even at +the most terrific explosions of gun-powder. His confidence in Hugh was +complete. Nor did he mind personal injuries. When on one occasion he +was hurled against the sharp edge of a chair, cutting his head open +badly, and his mother came to the rescue with indignation, sympathy +and bandages, whilst accepting the latter he deprecated the two +former, explaining apologetically, "It's only because my head's so +big." + +He admitted in after years to having felt most terribly swamped by the +personalities of two of his brothers. The third he had more in common +with, for he was more peace-loving, and he seemed to have more time +to listen to the small boy's confidences and stories, which Donald +started to write at the age of six. + +Hugh, however, was his hero--a kind of demi-god. And truly there +was something Greek about the boy--in his singular beauty of person, +coupled with his brilliant mental equipment, and above all in the +nothing less than Spartan methods with which, in spite of a highly +sensitive temperament, he set himself to overcome his handicap of +a naturally delicate physique and a bad head for heights. He turned +himself out quite an athlete, and actually cured his bad head by a +course of walking on giddy heights, preferably roofs--the parapet of +the tall four-storied house the children lived in being a favourite +training ground. + +Donald was the apple of his eye, and he was quick to note a certain +lack of vitality about the little boy--especially when he was growing +fast--and a certain natural timidity. His letters from school are full +of messages to and instructions concerning Donald's physical training, +and from Sandhurst he would long to "run over and see after his +boxing." He called him Don Diego, a name that suited the rather +stately little fellow, and he used to fear sometimes that Donald +was "getting too polite" and say he must "knock it out of him in +the holidays." Needless to say, his handling of him was always very +gentle. + +The other over-vital brother, if a prime amuser, was also a prime +tease, and being nearer Donald in age was also much less gentle. + +Before very long these great personages took themselves off "zum neuen +taten." But their Odysseys came home in the shape of letters, which, +with their descriptions of strange countries and peoples and records +of adventures--often the realization of boyish dreams--and also of +difficulties overcome, were well calculated to appeal to Donald's +childish imagination, and to increase his admiration for the +writers--and also his feeling of impotence, and of the impossibility +of being able to follow in the tracks of such giants among men! + +His mother, however, was his never-failing confidante and friend. +His love and admiration for her were unbounded, as for her courage, +unselfishness and constant thought for others, more especially for +the poor and insignificant among her neighbours. Though the humblest +minded of women, she could, when occasion demanded, administer a +rebuke with a decision and a fire that must have won the heartfelt +admiration of her diffident little son. + +He was not easily roused himself, but there is one instance of his +being so that is eminently characteristic. He had come back from +school evidently very perturbed, and at first his sister could get +nothing out of him. But at last he flared up. His face reddened, his +eyes burned like coals and, in a voice trembling with rage, he said, +"---- (naming a school-fellow) talks about things that I won't even +_think_!" + +At the age of about 14 he, too, went to Rugby, and there is an +interesting prophecy about him by his brother Hugh belonging to this +time. Hugh had by now earned a certain right to pronounce judgment, +having already started to fulfil his early promise by making some mark +as a soldier and a linguist. He had been invited to join the Egyptian +Army at a critical time in the campaign of 1897-98, thanks to his +proficiency in Arabic. His work was cut short by serious illness, the +long period of convalescence after which he had utilized in working +for and passing the Army Interpreter's examination in Turkish as +well as the higher one in Arabic and his promotion exam. All of which +achievements had been of use in helping him to wring out of the War +Office a promise of certain distinguished service in China. In a +letter home he writes:-- + + 2ND BATT. THE ROYAL WARWICKSHIRE, REGT., + THE CAMP, + COLCHESTER. + 28th Sept., 1899. + + MY DEAR MAMMA,-- + + I packed Donald off to school to-day in good time and + cold-less.... He was wonderfully calm and collected. He was + more at his ease in our mess than I should have been in a + strange mess, and made himself agreeable to his neighbours + without being forward. Also he looked very clean and smart, + and was altogether quite a success. + + That child has a future before him if his energy is up to + form, which I hope. His philosophy is most amazing. He looks + remarkably healthy, and is growing nicely.... + +Shortly after this letter was written the South African War broke out, +and before six months were over the writer was killed in action, at +the age of 27, whilst serving with the Mounted Infantry at Paardeberg. + +It was the first sorrow of Donald's life, but six months later he was +to suffer a yet more crushing blow in the loss of his dearly loved +mother. The loss of his best confidante and his ideal seemed at first +to stun the boy completely, and to cast him in upon himself entirely. +Later on he remembered that he had felt at that time that he had +nothing to say to any one. He had wondered what the others could have +thought of him, and had thought how dreadfully unresponsive they must +be finding him. His sister should have been of some use. But she +can only think of herself then as of some strange figure, veiled +and petrified with grief--grief _not_ for her mother, but for the +young hero whose magnetism had thrilled through every moment of her +life--yet pointing onwards, with mutely insistent finger, to the +path that her hero had trodden. And Donald, dazed also himself by +grief--though from another cause--of his own accord, placed his first +uncertain steps on the road that leads to military glory. No "voice" +warned him as yet, and he had no other decisive leading. + +If his sister failed him then, his father did not. Of him Donald wrote +recently to an aunt, "Papa's letters to me are a heritage whose value +can never diminish. His was indeed the pen of a ready writer, and +in his case, as in the case of many rather reserved people, the pen +did more justice to the man than the tongue. I never knew him until +Mamma's death, when the weekly letter from him took the place of hers, +and never stopped till I came home." + +At Rugby, Donald was accounted a dreamer. Without the outlet he +had hitherto had for his confidences and his thoughts no doubt the +tendency to dream grew upon him. "Behold this dreamer cometh," was +actually said of him by one of his masters. + +Nevertheless there were happy times when youth asserted itself and +boyish friendships were made. In work he did well, for he entered the +sixth form at the early age of 16½, and was thereby enabled, though he +left young, to have his name painted up "in hall" below those of his +three brothers, and also on his "study" door which belonged to each of +the four in turn. + +He entered the Royal Military Academy, Woolwich, straight from +Rugby, and before he was seventeen. We have his word for it that +he was spiritually very unhappy there, finding evils with which he +was impotent to grapple, going up as he did so young from school +and before he had had time to acquire a "games" reputation--that +all-important qualification for a boy if he wishes to influence +his fellows. Nevertheless youthful spirits were bound to triumph +sometimes. He was a perfectly sound and healthy, well-grown boy and a +friend who was with him at "the Shop" says he can remember no apparent +trace of unhappiness, and is full of tales of his jokes and his fun, +his quaint caricatures and doggerel rhymes, his love of flowers and +nature, his hospitalities, and his joy in getting his friends to meet +and know and like each other. Though he made no mark at Woolwich he +did carry off the prize for the best essay on the South African War. +With it he made his first appearance in print, for it was printed in +the R.M.A. Magazine. While he was at Woolwich the family circle was +enlarged by the arrival of a cousin from Australia, and she and Donald +became the greatest of friends. She reminded him in some way of his +mother, and this made all the difference. + +The Island of Mauritius, to which he was sent at the age of twenty, +not so very long after having received his commission in the Royal +Garrison Artillery, stood for him later on, he has told us, as +"Revelation"--"for there it was that I was first a sceptic, and was +first shown that I could not remain one." Also towards the end of his +stay there, when he was doubting as to what course he should take, +a sentence came to him insistently, "Would you know Christ? Lo, He +is working in His vineyard." It was these things that decided him +eventually to resign his commission, but of them his letters home +make little or no mention. They are full, on the other hand, of +descriptions of the beauties of the Island which, curious, odd, +freakish and unexpected, held him as did those of no other place. The +curious inconsistencies of the Creole nature also interested him, and +he spent much of his spare time sketching and studying the people. Two +friendships he made there were diverse and lasting, but he complains +very much of feeling the lack of a woman friend--no one to tease and +pick flowers for! + +While he was still there, there appeared at home a baby +nephew--another "Hugh"--"trailing clouds of glory," but to return all +too soon to his "Eternal Home." Some years previously, when his eldest +sister had told him of her engagement, he congratulated her warmly, +and said he "had always longed for a nephew"! He never saw the child, +but wrote after his death that he had heard so much about him that +he seemed to know him, and "I think I must have played with him in +my dreams." Possibly the baby nephew, in his short ten months of +life, did more for his uncle than either knew, for no frozen hearts +could do otherwise than melt in the presence of the insistent needs +of that gallant little spirit and fragile little body, and a more +whole-hearted sister was awaiting him on his return home, which took +place at the end of two years, after he had fallen a victim to the +prevalent complaint in the R.G.A--abscess on the liver. It was caused +by the shocking conditions under which the R.G.A. had to live in +Mauritius during that hot summer when the Russian Fleet sojourned +in Madagascan waters, and in Donald's case it necessitated a severe +operation. + +His joy in his homecoming was quickly clouded over, for his father +died only a month or two after his return; not, however, before he +had given a delighted acquiescence to Donald's proposal to resign +his commission and go to Oxford in order to study theology--his own +favourite pursuit--with the object of eventually taking Holy Orders. + +In the spring of 1907 Donald took a trip to Italy with his sister and +a Rhodes Scholar cousin from Australia. It was the young men's first +visit, and each brought back a special trophy: Donald's, a large +photograph of a fine virile "Portrait of a man" by Giorgione in black +and white, and his cousin, a sweet Madonna head by Luini. + +Donald gave his sister her trophy on their return home, in remembrance +of the lectures she had given the two of them on the pre-Raphaelite +painters in Florence. It took the form of a water-colour caricature of +herself, sitting enthroned in a Loggia as a sort of Sybil Saint with +a halo and a book (Baedeker). Behind her, and outlined against a pale +sky as seen through an archway of the Loggia in the typical Florentine +fashion, are the blue mountains near Florence, some tall cypresses, +a campanile and a castle perched on the top of a hill--all features +of the landscapes through which they had passed together. In the +foreground are himself and his cousin as monks adoring, also with +haloes, and expressions of mock ecstasy! + +On his return Donald went for a few months to Rugby House, the Rugby +School Mission, in order to cram for Oxford. He thereby made a friend, +and learned to love Browning. + +After living so long at Brighton, and then in barracks, the beauty of +Oxford was in itself alone a revelation to him. The work there, too, +was entirely congenial. As a gunner subaltern he had been a square peg +in a round hole. As regards the work there had been far too much to +be accepted on authority for one of his fundamental type of mind; the +relations existing between an officer and his men--in peace time, +at any rate--seemed to him hardly human, and the making of quick +decisions, which an officer is continually called upon to do, was +then as always very difficult to him. His tastes, too, unusual in a +subaltern, had made him rather lonely. He found much more in common +with the undergraduate than with the subaltern. Going up as an +"oldster" (22) was to him an advantage rather than otherwise, for his +six years in the Army had given him a certain prestige which was a +help to his natural diffidence, and helped to open more doors to him, +so that he was not limited to any set. + +He gained some reputation as a host, for he had the born host's gift +of getting the right people together and making them feel at their +ease. There was also, as a rule, some little individual touch about +his entertainments that made them stand out. His manner, though +naturally boyish and shy, could be both gay and debonair, quite +irresistible in fact, when he was surrounded by congenial spirits! He +played hockey, and was made a member of several clubs, sketched and +made beautiful photographs. His time he divided strictly between the +study of man and the study of theology, and though he did much hard, +thorough and careful work in connexion with the latter, he always +maintained that for a man who was going to be a parson the former was +the more important study of the two. + +He used, however, to complain much at this time of feeling himself +incapable of any very strong emotion, even that of sorrow. + +No doubt there is more stimulation to the brain than to the heart in +the highly critical atmosphere of all phases of the intellectual life +at Oxford; also Donald had hardly yet got over the shocks of his youth +and the loneliness of his life abroad. He was, too, essentially and +curiously the son of his father--even to his minor tastes, such as his +connoisseur's palate for a good wine and his judgment in "smokes"--and +this feeling of a certain detachment from the larger emotions of life +was always his father's pose--the philosopher's. In his father's case +it was perhaps engendered, if not necessitated, by his poor health and +wretched nerves. + +But can we not trace his dissatisfaction at this time in what he felt +to be his cold philosophical attitude towards life to the same cause +as much of the misery he suffered as a boy! In the paper he calls +"School," which follows with that entitled "Home," he tells us how he +would have liked to have chastised a school-fellow "had he dared," +and his failure to dare was evidently what reduced him to the state of +impotent rage described on page 9 of this sketch. Again at Woolwich, +what made him unhappy was not so much the evils which he saw but +his impotence to deal with them. So now again at Oxford he feels +"impotent," impotent this time to feel and sympathize as he would +have wished with suffering humanity. But within him was the light, +"the light which is, of course, not physical," which betrayed itself +through his wonderful smile--the same now as in babyhood; and from +his mother, and perhaps also from the young country that gave her +birth, he had inherited, as well as her great heart and broad human +sympathies, the vigour that was to carry him through the experiences +by means of which, in the fullness of time, that light, no longer +dormant, was to break into a flame of infinite possibilities. + +Donald's one complaint against Oxford was that the ideas that are born +and generated there so often evaporate in talk and smoke. He left with +the determination to "do," but before going on to a Clergy School he +decided to accept a friend's invitation to visit him in savage Africa +so that he might think things over, and put to the test, far away from +the artificialities of Modern Life, the ideas he had assimilated in +the highly sophisticated atmosphere of Oxford. As he quaintly put it: +"Since Paul went into Arabia for three years, I don't see why I should +not go to British East Africa for six months!" He did not, however, +stay the whole time there, but re-visited his beloved Mauritius, and +also stayed in Madagascar. + +The beginning of 1911 found him at the Clergy School. But what he +wanted he did not find there. During his Oxford vacations he had made +many expeditions to poorer London, at first to Notting Dale where +was the Rugby School Mission, and afterwards to Bermondsey. But these +expeditions had not been entirely satisfactory. He had then gone as +a "visitor." The lessons he wanted to learn now from "the People" +could only be learned by becoming as far as possible one of them. The +story of his struggles to do so in his life in Bermondsey, and of +his journey to Australia in the steerage of a German liner and of his +roughing it there, always with the same object in view, cannot be told +here. The first outcome of it all was the writing of his book, _The +Lord of All Good Life_. Of this book he says, in a letter to his +friend Tom Allen of the Oxford and Bermondsey Mission: + +"The book I regard as my child. I feel quite absurdly about it; to me +it is the sudden vision of what lots of obscure things really meant. +It is coming out of dark shadows into--moonlight ... I would have you +to realize that it was written spontaneously in a burst, in six weeks, +without any consultation of authorities or any revision to speak of. +I had tried and tried, but without success. Then suddenly everything +cleared up. To myself, the writing of it was an illumination. I did +not write it laboriously and with calculation or because I wanted to +write a book and be an author. I wrote it because problems that had +been troubling me suddenly cleared up and because writing down the +result was to me the natural way of getting everything straight in my +own mind." + +The book was written not away in the peace of the country, nor in the +comparative quiet of a certain sunny little sitting-room I know of, +looking on to a leafy back garden in Kensington, where Donald often +sat and smoked and wrote, but in a little flat in a dull tenement +house in a grey street in Bermondsey, where I remember visiting him +with a cousin of his. + +Here the Student lived like a lord--for Bermondsey! For he possessed +two flats, one for his "butler"--a sick-looking young man in list +slippers, and his wife and family--and the other for himself. + +The little sitting-room in which he entertained us was very pleasant, +with light walls, a bright table-cloth, a gleam of something brass +that had come from Ceylon, one or two gaily painted dancing shields +from Africa, and two barbaric looking dolls, about a foot high, +dressed chiefly in beads and paint, that he had picked up in an +Antananarivo shop in Madagascar. They came in usefully when he was +lecturing on Missions! + +His bedroom he did not want us to see. It struck cold and appeared to +be reeking with damp! + +The weather had been rather dull when we arrived, but suddenly there +was a glint of sunshine, and a grind-organ that had wandered up the +street started playing just opposite. Two couple of children began +to dance. A girl with a jug stopped to watch them, and mothers with +babies came to their doors. A window was thrown open opposite and a +whole family of children leaned out to see the fun. + +Bermondsey was gay, and after we had gone the "Student" perpetuated +the fact in a water-colour drawing which he sent to his cousin +afterwards. + +In the evening, however, the sounds would be more discordant, also +the Student was running a Boys' Club, taking several Sunday services +at the Mission, visiting some very sick people, and attending to a +multifarious list of duties which left me breathless when I saw it, +knowing too how many casual appeals always came to him and that he +never was known to refuse a helping hand to any one! Nevertheless +it was there, and in six weeks, that the _Lord of All Good Life_ was +written! + +"Then came the war," and the Student shall tell us in his own words +what it meant to him. Writing still to Tom Allen, who had also +enlisted, and afterwards also gave his life in the war, he says: + +"For myself the war was, in a sense, a heaven-sent opportunity. Ever +since I left Leeds I have been trying to follow out the theory that +the proper subject of study for the theologian was man, and had +increasingly been made to feel that nothing but violent measures could +overcome my own shyness sufficiently to enable me to study outside +my own class. Enlistment had always appealed to me as one of the few +feasible methods of ensuring the desired results.... + +"I was interested to hear that you found the ---- so illuminating as +regards human potentialities for bestiality. I think that I plumbed +the depths between sixteen and a half and twenty-two. I have learned +nothing more since then about bestiality. In fact I am hardened, and, +I am afraid, take it for granted. Since then I have been discovering +human goodness, which is far more satisfactory. And oh, I have found +it! In Bermondsey, in the stinking hold of the _Zieten_, in the wide, +thirsty desert of Western Australia, and in the ranks of the 7th +Battalion of the Rifle Brigade. I enlisted very largely to find out +how far I really believed in the brotherhood of man when it comes to +the point--and I do believe in it more and more." + +Donald Hankey enlisted in August, 1914, and after a period of +training, part of which was certainly the happiest time of his life, +he went to the front in May, 1915, coming home wounded in August, when +he wrote for the _Spectator_ most of the articles that were published +anonymously the following spring under the title of _A Student in +Arms_. Before he left hospital he received a commission in his old +regiment, the R.G.A., but still finding himself with no love for +big guns, he transferred to his eldest brother's regiment, the Royal +Warwickshire, hoping that by doing so he might get back to the front +the sooner. He did not, however, leave until May, 1916, after he had +written his contribution to _Faith or Fear_. + +Most of the numbers of the present volume were written in or near +the trenches, and a fellow-officer gave his sister an interesting +description of how it was done. "Your brother," said he, "will sit +down in a corner of a trench, with his pipe, and write an article for +the _Spectator_, or make funny sketches for his nephews and nieces, +when none of the rest of us could concentrate sufficiently even to +write a letter." + +On October 6th, Donald Hankey wrote home: "We shall probably be +fighting by the time you get this letter, but one has a far better +chance of getting through now than in July. I shall be very glad if we +do have a scrap, as we have been resting quite long enough. Of course +one always has to face possibilities on such occasions; but we have +faced them in advance, haven't we? I believe with all my soul that +whatever will be, will be for the best. As I said before, I should +hate to slide meanly into winter without a scrap.... I have a top-hole +platoon--nearly all young, and nearly all have been out here eighteen +months--thoroughly good sporting fellows; so if I don't do well it +will be my fault." + +Six days after this the Student knelt down for a few seconds with his +men--we have it on the testimony of one of them--and he told them a +little of what was before them: "If wounded, 'Blighty'; if killed, the +Resurrection." Then "over the top." He was last seen alive rallying +his men, who had wavered for a moment under the heavy machine gun and +rifle fire. He carried the waverers along with him, and was found that +night close to the trench, the winning of which had cost him his life, +with his platoon sergeant and a few of his men by his side. + +What wonder that his cousin and best friend, when asked a short time +previously what he was like, had replied, "He is the most beautiful +thing that ever happened." + + + + +AUTHOR'S FOREWORD + +(BEING EXTRACTS FROM LETTERS TO HIS SISTER) + + +"I am very much wondering whether you will receive 'A Diary' in four +parts. It is very much founded on fact, though altered in parts. You +will probably be surprised at a certain change in tone, but remember +that my previous articles were written in England, while this was +written on the spot.... The Diary was not my diary, though it was +so very nearly what mine might have been that it is difficult to +say what is fiction and what is actuality in it. With regard to the +'conversation' during the bombardment, it represents in its totality +what I believe the ordinary soldier feels. He loathes the war, and the +grandiloquent speeches of politicians irritate him by their failure to +realize how loathesome war is. At the same time he knows he has got to +go through with it, and only longs for the chance to hurry up. In the +'Diary,' again, I quite deliberately emphasized the depression of the +man who thought he was being left out, and the mental effect of the +clearing-up process because I thought that it would be a good thing +for people to realize this side, and also partly because I felt that +in previous articles I had glossed over it too much.... If I get a +chance of publishing another book I shall certainly include them." + + _Note_.--Not only "A Diary" and "Imaginary Conversations," but + every paper in the present collection, with the exception of + "The Wisdom," "The Potentate," and "A Passing in June," were + written in France in 1916, and many of them actually in the + trenches. The rough sketch for "A Passing in June" was written + in France in 1915, but was completed when the author was in + hospital at home. + + "The Potentate" was written for the original volume of _A + Student in Arms_, but was not published on account of its + likeness in subject to Barrie's play, _Der Tag_, which, + however, Donald had not seen or even heard of when he wrote + his own. + + + + +I + +THE POTENTATE[1] + + + SCENE. _A tent (interior). The_ POTENTATE _is sitting at a + table listening to his_ COURT CHAPLAIN. + +[Footnote 1: It is necessary to state that _The Potentate_ was written +before Sir James Barrie's play _Der Tag_ appeared.] + +COURT CHAPLAIN (_concluding his remarks_). Where can we look for the +Kingdom of God, Sire, if not among the German people? Consider your +foes. The English are Pharisees, hypocrites. Woe to them, saith +the Lord. The French are atheists. The Belgians are ignorant and +priest-ridden. The Russians are sunk in mediæval superstition. As for +the Italians, half are atheists and the other half idolators. Only +in Germany do you find a reasonable and progressive faith, devoid +of superstition, abreast of scientific thought, and of the highest +ethical value. Germany then, Sire, is the Kingdom of God on earth. The +Germans are the chosen people, the heirs of the promise, and let their +enemies be scattered! + + (_The_ POTENTATE _rises, leans forward with his hands on the + table, and an expression of extreme gratification, while the_ + CHAPLAIN _stands with a smug and respectful smile on his white + face._) + +POTENTATE. You are right, my dear Clericus, abundantly right. Very +well put indeed! Yes, Germany is the Kingdom of God, and I (_drawing +himself up to his full height_)--I am Germany! The strength of the +Lord is in my right arm, and He teaches it terrible things for the +unbeliever and the hypocrite. With God I conquer! Good-night, my dear +Clericus, good-night. + + (CLERICUS _departs with a low bow, and_ _the_ POTENTATE _sinks + into his chair with a gesture of fatigue. Enter a_ GENERAL _of + the Headquarters Staff with telegrams._) + +POTENTATE (_brightening_). Ha, my dear General, you have news? + +GENERAL. Excellent news, Sire! On the Eastern front the Russians +continue to give way. In the West a French attack has been repulsed +with heavy loss, and our gallant Prussians have driven the British out +of half a mile of trenches. + + (_At this last bit of news the_ POTENTATE _springs to his feet + with a look of joy._) + +POTENTATE. A sign! My God, a sign! Pardon, General, I was thinking of +a conversation that I have just had with Dr. Clericus. Come now, show +me where these trenches are. + + (_The_ GENERAL _produces a map, over which they pore + together._) + +POTENTATE. Excellent, excellent! A most valuable capture. Our losses +were ...? + +GENERAL. Slight, Sire. + +POTENTATE. Better and better. I cannot afford to lose my good +Prussians, my heroic, my invincible Prussians. To what do you +attribute the success? + +GENERAL. The success was due in a large measure to the perfection +of the apparatus suggested a week ago by your Majesty's scientific +adviser. + +POTENTATE (_blanching a little_). Ah, then it was not a charge, eh? + +GENERAL. The charge followed, Sire; but the work was already done. The +defenders of the trench were already dead or dying before our heroes +reached it. + +POTENTATE (_sinking back in his chair with his finger to his lips, +and a slight frown_). Thank you, General, your news is of the best. +I will detain you no longer. (_The_ GENERAL _bows._) Stay! Has a +counterattack been launched yet? + +GENERAL. Not yet, Sire. No doubt one will be attempted to-night. Our +men are prepared. + +POTENTATE. Good. Bring me fresh news as soon as it arrives. +Good-night, General, good-night. + + (_Exit_ GENERAL.) + + (_The_ POTENTATE _sits musing for a considerable time. A + slight cough is heard, and he raises his head._) + +POTENTATE (_slowly_). Enter! + + (_Enter a tall figure in a long black academic gown and black + clothes._) + +POTENTATE (_with an attempt at gaiety_). Come in, my dear Sage, come +in. You are welcome. (_A little anxiously_) You have the crystal? +Good. How is the Master? Still busy devising new means of victory? + +THE SAGE. My master's poor skill is always at your service, Sire. You +have only to command. + +POTENTATE. I know it. Now let me have the crystal. I would see if +possible the scene of to-day's victory in Flanders. + + (_The_ SAGE _hands him the crystal with a low bow. The_ + POTENTATE _seizes it eagerly, and gazes into it. A pause._) + +POTENTATE (_raising his head suddenly_). Horrible, horrible! + +SAGE. Sire? + +POTENTATE. This last invention of your master's is inhuman! + +SAGE. War is inhuman, Sire. Where a speedy end is desired, is it not +kindest to be cruel? + + (_The_ POTENTATE _gazes again into the crystal,_ _but starts + up immediately with a gasp of horror._) + +POTENTATE. Again the same vision! Always after my victories the vision +of the Crucified, with the stern reproachful eyes! Am I not the Lord's +appointed instrument? What means it? Tell your master that I will have +no more of his inventions. They are too diabolical! They imperil my +cause! + +SAGE (_pointing to the crystal_). Look again, Sire. + +POTENTATE (_gazing into the crystal, and in a low and agonized +voice_). Time with his scythe raised menacingly against me. +(_Abruptly_) This is a trickery, Sirrah! Have a care! But I will not +be tricked. Are my troops not brave? Are they not invincible? Can they +not win by their proven valour? Who can stand against them, for the +strength of the Lord is in their right hands? + + (_Enter GENERAL hastily_) + +GENERAL. Sire.... (_He starts, and stops short_). + +POTENTATE (_testily_). Go on, go on. What is it? + +GENERAL. Sire, the English counterattack has for the moment succeeded. +Infuriated by their defeat they fought so that no man could resist +them. They have regained the trenches they had lost, but we hope to +attack again to-morrow, when-- + +POTENTATE. Enough! Leave me! + + (_The_ GENERAL _withdraws, and the_ POTENTATE _leans forward + with his head on his hands._) + +SAGE (_commiseratingly_). Apparently other troops are brave besides +your own, Sire! + +POTENTATE (_brokenly_). The cowards! The cowards! Five nations against +three! Alas, my poor Prussians! + +SAGE. If you will look once more into the crystal, Sire, I think you +will see something that will interest you. + + (_The_ POTENTATE _takes the crystal again, but without + confidence._) + +POTENTATE (_in a slow recitative_). A stricken field by night. The +dead lie everywhere, German and English, side by side. But all are not +dead. Some are but wounded. They help one another. Prussian and Briton +help one another, with painful smiles on their white faces. What? Have +they forgotten their hate? My Prussians! Can you so soon forget? I +mourn for you! But who are these? White figures, vague, elusive! See, +they seem to come down from above. They are carrying away the souls +of my Prussians! And of the accursed English! What! One Paradise for +both! Impossible! And who is that watching? He who with a smile so +loving, and yet so stern ... Ah!... My God ... no!... not I.... + + (_The_ POTENTATE _rises with a strangled cry, and sinks into + his chair a nerveless wreck. The_ SAGE _watches coolly, with a + cynical smile._) + +SAGE. So, Sire, you must find room for the English in that kingdom of +yours and God's! Perchance it is more catholic than we had thought! + + (_The_ POTENTATE _groans._) + +SAGE. Sire, you have seen some truth to-night. Is courage, is God, all +on your side? Is Time on your side? Shall I go back to my master and +tell him that you need no more of his inventions? + + (_He pauses, and glances at the_ POTENTATE _with a look of + contempt, and then turns to go. The_ POTENTATE _looks round + him with a ghastly stare._) + +POTENTATE (_feebly_). No ... the Crucified ... Time ... Stay, stay! + + (_The_ SAGE _turns with a gesture of triumph._) + + (_Curtain._) + + + + +II + +THE BAD SIDE OF MILITARY SERVICE + + +A Padre who has earned the right to talk about the "average Tommy," +writes to me that _A Student in Arms_ gives a very one-sided picture +of him. While cordially admitting his unselfishness, his good +comradeship, his patience, and his pluck, my friend challenges me +to deny that military, and especially active, service often has a +brutalizing effect on the soldier, weakening his moral fibres, and +causing him to sink to a low animal level. + +Those who are in the habit of reading between the lines will, I +think, often have seen the shadow of this darker side of army life +on the pages of _A Student in Arms_; but I have not written of it +specifically for several reasons. It will suffice if I mention two. +First, I was writing mainly of the private and the N.C.O. Rightly +or wrongly, I imagined that those for whom I was writing were in the +habit of taking for granted this darker side of life in the ranks. I +imagined that they thought of the "lower classes" as being naturally +coarser and more animal than the "upper classes." I wanted then, and I +want now, to contradict that belief with all the vehemence of which I +am capable. Officers and men necessarily develop different qualities, +different forms of expression, different mental attitudes. But I am +confident that I speak the truth when I say that essentially, and in +the eyes of God there is nothing to choose between them. + +If I must write of the brutalizing effect of war on the soldier, let +it be clearly understood that I am speaking, not of officers only, +nor of privates only, but of fighting men of every class and rank. +As a matter of fact I have never, whether before or during the war, +belonged to a mess where the tone was cleaner or more wholesome than +it was in the Sergeants' Mess of my old battalion. + +My second reason for not writing about the bad side of Army life was +that mere condemnation is so futile. I have listened to countless +sermons in which the "lusts of the flesh" were denounced, and have +known for certain that their power for good was _nil_. If I write +about it now, it is only because I hope that I may be able to make +clearer the causes and processes of such moral deterioration as +exists, and thus to help those who are trying to combat it, to do so +with greater understanding and sympathy. + +Even in England most officers, and all privates, are cut off from +their womenfolk. Mothers, sisters, wives, and sweethearts are +inaccessible. All have a certain amount of leisure, and very little +to do with it. All are physically fit and mentally rather unoccupied. +All are living under an unnatural discipline from which, when the +last parade of the day is over, there is a natural reaction. Finally, +wherever there are troops, and especially in war time, there are "bad" +women and weak women. The result is inevitable. A certain number of +both officers and men "go wrong." + +Fifteen months ago I was a private quartered in a camp near Aldershot. +After tea it began to get dark. The tent was damp, gloomy, and cold. +The Y.M.C.A. tent and the Canteen tent were crowded. One wandered off +to the town. The various soldiers' clubs were filled and overflowing. +The bars required more cash than one possessed. The result was that +one spent a large part of one's evenings wandering aimlessly about +the streets. Fortunately I discovered an upper room in a Wesleyan +soldiers' home, where there was generally quiet, and an empty chair. +I shall always be grateful to that "home," for the many hours which I +whiled away there with a book and a pipe. But most of us spent a great +deal of our leisure, bored and impecunious, "on the streets"; and if +a fellow ran up against "a bit of skirt," he was generally just in the +mood to follow it wherever it might lead. The moral of this is, double +your subscriptions to the Y.M.C.A., Church huts, soldiers' clubs, or +whatever organization you fancy! You will be helping to combat vice in +the only sensible way. + +I don't suppose that the officers were much better off than we were. +Their tents may have been a little lighter and less crowded than ours. +They had a late dinner to occupy part of the long evening. They had +more money to spend, and perhaps more to occupy their minds. But I +fancy that as great a proportion of them as of us took the false step; +and though perhaps when they compared notes their language may have +been less blunt than ours, I am not sure that, for this very reason, +it may not have been more poisonous. But mind you, we did not all +go wrong, by any means, though I believe that some fellows did, both +officers and men, who would not have done so if they had stayed at +home with their mothers, sisters, sweethearts, or wives. + +So much for the Army at home. When we cross the Channel every feature +is a hundred times intensified. Consider the fighting man in the +trenches--and I am still speaking of both officers and men--the most +ordinary refinements of life are conspicuously absent. There is no +water to wash in. Vermin abound, sleeping and eating accommodations +are frankly disgusting. One is obliged for the time to live like a +pig. Added to this one is all the time in a state of nervous tension. +One gets very little sleep. Every night has its anxieties and +responsibilities. Danger or death may come at any moment. So for a +week or a fortnight or a month, as the case may be. Then comes the +return to billets, to comparative safety and comfort--the latter +nothing to boast about though! Tension is relaxed. There is an +inevitable reaction. Officers and men alike determine to "gather +rosebuds" while they may. Their bodies are fit, their wills are +relaxed. If they are built that way, and an opportunity offers, they +will "satisfy the lusts of the flesh." + +When there is real fighting to be done the dangers of the +after-reaction are intensified. You who sit at home and read of +glorious bayonet charges do not realize what it means to the man +behind the bayonet. You don't realize the repugnance for the first +thrust--a repugnance which has got to be overcome. You don't realize +the change that comes over a man when his bayonet is wet with the +blood of his first enemy. He "sees red." The primitive "blood-lust," +kept under all his life by the laws and principles of peaceful +society, surges through his being, transforming him, maddening him +with the desire to kill, kill, kill! Ask any one who has been through +it if this is not true. And that letting loose of a primitive lust is +not going to be without its effect on a man's character. + +At the same time, of course, not all of us become animals out here. +There are other influences at work. Caring for the wounded, burying +the mutilated dead, cause one to hate war, and to value ten times more +the ways of peace. Many are saved from sinking in the scale, by a love +of home which is able to bridge the gulf which separates them +from their beloved. The letters of my platoon are largely love +letters--often the love letters of married men to their wives. + +There is immorality in the Army; when there is opportunity immorality +is rife. Possibly there is more abroad than there is at home. If so it +is because there is far greater temptation. Nevertheless, I fancy that +my correspondent, who is a padre, a don, and at least the beginning of +a saint, is perhaps inclined to exaggerate the extent of the evil in +the Army as compared with civil life. I imagine that very few padres, +especially if they are dons, and most of all if they are saints, +realize that in civil life as in Army life, the average man is +immoral, both in thought and deed. Let us be frank about this. What +a doctor might call the "appetites" and a padre the "lusts" of the +body, hold dominion over the average man, whether civilian or soldier, +unless they are counteracted by a stronger power. The only men who +are pure are those who are absorbed in some pursuit, or possessed by a +great love; be it the love of clean, wholesome life which is religion, +or the love of a noble man which is hero-worship, or the love of a +true woman. These are the four powers which are stronger than "the +flesh"--the zest of a quest, religion, hero-worship, and the love of +a good woman. If a man is not possessed by one of these he will be +immoral. + +Probably most men are immoral. The conditions of military, and +especially of active service merely intensify the temptation. Unless +a soldier is wholly devoted to the cause, or powerfully affected by +religion, or by hero-worship, or by pure love, he is immoral. + +Perhaps most men are immoral if they get the chance. Most soldiers +are immoral if they get the chance. But those who are trying to help +the soldier can do so with a good heart if they realize that in +him they have a foundation on which to build. Already he is half a +hero-worshipper. Already he half believes in the beauty of sacrifice +and in the life immortal. Already he is predisposed to value +exceedingly all that savours of clean, wholesome home life. On that +foundation it should be possible to build a strong idealism which +shall prevail against the flesh. And this is my last word--it is by +building up, and not by casting down, that the soldier can be saved +from degradation. The devil that possesses so many can only be cast +out by an angel that is stronger than he. + + + + +III + +THE GOOD SIDE OF "MILITARISM" + + +I had a letter the other day from an Oxford friend. In it was this +phrase: "I loathe militarism in all its forms." Somehow it took me +back quite suddenly to the days before the war, to ideas that I had +almost completely forgotten. I suppose that in those days the great +feature of those of us who tried to be "in the forefront of modern +thought" was their riotous egotism, their anarchical insistence on the +claims of the individual at the expense even of law, order, society, +and convention. "Self-realization" we considered to be the primary +duty of every man and woman. + +The wife who left her husband, children, and home because of her +passion for another man was a heroine, braving the hypocritical +judgments of society to assert the claims of the individual soul. +The woman who refused to abandon all for love's sake, was not only +a coward but a criminal, guilty of the deadly sin of sacrificing her +soul, committing it to a prison where it would languish and never +blossom to its full perfection. The man who was bound to uncongenial +drudgery by the chains of an early marriage or aged parents dependent +on him, was the victim of a tragedy which drew tears from our eyes. +The woman who neglected her home because she needed a "wider sphere" +in which to develop her personality was a champion of women's rights, +a pioneer of enlightenment. And, on the other hand, the people +who went on making the best of uncongenial drudgery, or in any way +subjected their individualities to what old-fashioned people called +duty, were in our eyes contemptible poltroons. + +It was the same in politics and religion. To be loyal to a party +or obedient to a Church was to stand self-confessed a fool or a +hypocrite. Self-realization, that was in our eyes the whole duty of +man. + +And then I thought of what I had seen only a few days before. First, +of battalions of men marching in the darkness, steadily and in step, +towards the roar of the guns; destined in the next twelve hours to +charge as one man, without hesitation or doubt, through barrages +of cruel shell and storms of murderous bullets. Then, the following +afternoon, of a handful of men, all that was left of about three +battalions after ten hours of fighting, a handful of men exhausted, +parched, strained, holding on with grim determination to the last bit +of German trench, until they should receive the order to retire. And +lastly, on the days and nights following, of the constant streams +of wounded and dead being carried down the trench; of the unceasing +search that for three or four days was never fruitless. + +Self-realization! How far we have travelled from the ideals of those +pre-war days. And as I thought things over I wondered at how faint a +response that phrase, "I loathe militarism in all its forms," found in +my own mind. + +Before the war I too hated "militarism." I despised soldiers as men +who had sold their birthright for a mess of pottage. The sight of +the Guards drilling in Wellington Barracks, moving as one man to the +command of their drill instructor, stirred me to bitter mirth. They +were not men but manikins. When I first enlisted, and for many months +afterwards, the "mummeries of military discipline," the saluting, the +meticulous uniformity, the rigid suppression of individual exuberance, +chafed and infuriated me. I compared it to a ritualistic religion, a +religion of authority only, which depended not on individual assent +but on tradition for its sanctions. I loathed militarism in all its +forms. Now ... well, I am inclined to reconsider my judgment. Seeing +the end of military discipline, has shown me something of its ethical +meaning--more than that, of its spiritual meaning. + +For though the part of the "great push" that it fell to my lot to see +was not a successful part, it was none the less a triumph--a spiritual +triumph. From the accounts of the ordinary war correspondent I think +one hardly realizes how great a spiritual triumph it was. For the war +correspondent only sees the outside, and can only describe the outside +of things. We who are in the Army, who know the men as individuals, +who have talked with them, joked with them, censored their letters, +worked with them, lived with them we see below the surface. + +The war correspondent sees the faces of the men as they march towards +the Valley of the Shadow, sees the steadiness of eye and mouth, +hears the cheery jest. He sees them advance into the Valley without +flinching. He sees some of them return, tired, dirty, strained, but +still with a quip for the passer-by. He gives us a picture of men +without nerves, without sensitiveness, without imagination, schooled +to face death as they would face rain or any trivial incident of +everyday life. The "Tommy" of the war correspondent is not a human +being, but a lay figure with a gift for repartee, little more than +the manikin that we thought him in those far-off days before the war, +when we watched him drilling on the barrack square. We soldiers know +better. We know that each one of those men is an individual, full of +human affections, many of them writing tender letters home every +week, each one longing with all his soul for the end of this hateful +business of war which divides him from all that he loves best in +life. We know that every one of these men has a healthy individual's +repugnance to being maimed, and a human shrinking from hurt and from +the Valley of the Shadow of Death. + +The knowledge of all this does not do away with the even tread of the +troops as they pass, the steady eye and mouth, the cheery jest; but +it makes these a hundred times more significant. For we know that what +these things signify is not lack of human affection, or weakness, or +want of imagination, but something superimposed on these, to which +they are wholly subordinated. Over and above the individuality of +each man, his personal desires and fears and hopes, there is the +corporate personality of the soldier which knows no fear and only one +ambition--to defeat the enemy, and so to further the righteous cause +for which he is fighting. In each of those men there is this dual +personality: the ordinary human ego that hates danger and shrinks from +hurt and death, that longs for home, and would welcome the end of the +war on any terms; and also the stronger personality of the soldier who +can tolerate but one end to this war, cost what that may--the victory +of liberty and justice, and the utter abasement of brute force. + +And when one looks back over the months of training that the soldier +has had, one recognizes how every feature of it, though at the time +it often seemed trivial and senseless and irritating, was in reality +directed to this end. For from the moment that a man becomes a +soldier his dual personality begins. Henceforth he is both a man and +a soldier. Before his training is complete the order must be reversed, +and he must be a soldier and a man. As a soldier he must obey and +salute those whom, as a man, he very likely dislikes and despises. In +his conduct he no longer only has to consider his reputation as a man, +but still more his honour as a soldier. In all the conditions of his +life, his dress, appearance, food, drink, accommodation, and work, his +individual preferences count for nothing, his efficiency as a soldier +counts for everything. At first he "hates" this, and "can't see +the point of" that. But by the time his training is complete he has +realized that whether he hates a thing or not, sees the point of a +thing or not, is a matter of the uttermost unimportance. If he is +wise, he keeps his likes and dislikes to himself. + +All through his training he is learning the unimportance of his +individuality, realizing that in a national, a world crisis, it counts +for nothing. On the other hand, he is equally learning that as a unit +in a fighting force his every action is of the utmost importance. The +humility which the Army inculcates is not an abject self-depreciation +that leads to loss of self-respect and effort. Substituted for the old +individualism is a new self-consciousness. The man has become humble, +but in proportion the soldier has become exceeding proud. The old +personal whims and ambitions give place to a corporate ambition +and purpose, and this unity of will is symbolized in action by the +simultaneous exactitude of drill, and in dress by the rigid identity +of uniform. Anything which calls attention to the individual, whether +in drill or in dress, is a crime, because it is essential that the +soldier's individuality should be wholly subordinated to the corporate +personality of the regiment. + +As I said before, the personal humility of the soldier has nothing in +it of abject self-depreciation or slackness. On the contrary, every +detail of his appearance, and every most trivial feature of his duty +assumes an immense significance. Slackness in his dress and negligence +in his work are military crimes. In a good regiment the soldier is +striving after perfection all the time. + +And it is when he comes to the supreme test of battle that the fruits +of his training appear. The good soldier has learnt the hardest +lesson of all--the lesson of self-subordination to a higher and bigger +personality. He has learnt to sacrifice everything which belongs to +him individually to a cause that is far greater than any personal +ambitions of his own can ever be. He has learnt to do this so +thoroughly that he knows no fear--for fear is personal. He has learnt +to "hate" father and mother and life itself for the sake of--though he +may not call it that--the Kingdom of God on earth. + +It is a far cry from the old days when one talked of self-realization, +isn't it? I make no claim to be a good soldier; but I think that +perhaps I may be beginning to be one; for if I am asked now whether I +"loathe militarism in all its forms," I think that "the answer is in +the negative," I will even go farther, and say that I hope that some +of the discipline and self-subordination that have availed to send men +calmly to their death in war, will survive in the days of peace, and +make of those who are left better citizens, better workmen, better +servants of the State, better Church men. + + + + +IV + +A MONTH'S REFLECTIONS + + +Timothy and I are on detachment. We are billeted with M. le Curé, and +we mess at the schoolmaster's. Hence we are on good terms with all +parties, for of course a good schoolmaster shrugs his shoulders at +a priest, and a good priest returns the compliment. In war time, +however, the hatchet seems to be buried pretty deep. We have not seen +it sticking out anywhere. + +M. le Curé has a beautiful rose garden, a cask of excellent cider, a +passable Sauterne, and a charming pony. He is a good fellow, I should +think, though without much education. His house--or what I have seen +of it--is the exact opposite of what an English country vicar's +would be. The only sitting-room that I have seen is as neat as an old +maid's. There is a polished floor, an oval polished table on which +repose four large albums at regular intervals, each on its own little +mat. There is a mantelpiece with gilt candlesticks and an ornate clock +under a glass dome. Round the walls are photographs of brother clergy, +the place of honour being assigned to a stout _Chanoine_. The chairs +are stiff and uncomfortable. One of them, which is more imposing +and uncomfortable than the rest, is obviously for the Bishop when he +comes. There are no papers, no books, no ash-trays, no confusion. I +have never seen M. le Curé sit there. I fancy he lives in the kitchen +and in his garden. + +Timothy sleeps in the bed which the Bishop uses, and is told he ought +to feel _très saint_. + +The wife of the schoolmaster cooks for us. She is an excellent soul. +We give her full marks. She has a smile and an omelette for every +emergency, and waves aside all Timothy's vagaries with "Ah, monsieur, +la jeunesse!" I am not sure that Timothy quite likes it! + +Timothy is immense. He is that rarest of birds, a wholly delightful +egotist. He is the sun, but we all bask and shine with reflected +glory. The men are splendid, because they are his men. I am a great +success because I am his subaltern. Fortunately we all have a sense of +humour and so are highly pleased with ourselves and each other. After +all, if one is a Captain at twenty-two ...! But he's a good soldier, +too, and we all believe in him. Timothy's all right, in spite of _la +jeunesse_! + + * * * * * + +Rain! The men are fifteen in a tent in a sea of mud. Poor beggars! +They are having a thin time. Working parties in the trenches day and +night; every one soaked to the skin; and then a return to a damp, +crowded, muddy tent. No pay, no smokes, and yet they are wonderfully +cheery, and all think that the "Push" is going to end the war. I wish +I thought so! + + * * * * * + +These rats are the limit! The dugout swarms with them. Last night they +ate half my biscuits and a good part of Timothy's clean socks, and +whenever I began to get to sleep one of them would run across my face, +or some other sensitive part of my anatomy, and wake me up. I shall +leave the candle alight to-night, to see if that keeps them away. + + * * * * * + +Last night the rats tried to eat the candle, and very nearly set me on +fire. If it were not for the rain I would try the firestep. + +The men are having a rotten time again--no proper shelter from the +rain, and short rations, to say nothing of remarkably good practice by +the Boche artillery. C----, just out from England, got scuppered this +afternoon. A good boy--made his communion just before we came in. I +suppose he didn't know much about it, and that he is really better off +now; but at the same time it makes one angry. + + * * * * * + +The rain has lifted, so last night I tried the firestep, and got a +good sleep. The absurd thing was that I couldn't wake up properly. I +came on duty at midnight, was roused, got to my feet, and started to +walk along the trench. And then the Nameless Terror, that lurks in +dark corners when one is a small boy, gripped me. I was frightened of +the dark, filled with a sense of impending disaster! It took about +ten minutes to wake properly and shake it off. I must try to get more +sleep somehow; but it is jolly difficult. + + * * * * * + +The great bombardment has begun, the long-promised strafing of the +Boche. According to the gunners they will all be dead, buried, or +dazed when the time comes for us to go over the top. I doubt it! If +they have enough deep dug-outs I don't fancy that the bombardment will +worry them very much. + + * * * * * + +Now we are at rest for a day or two before the Push. I am to be left +out--in charge of carriers. Damn! I might as well be A.S.C. I see +myself counting ration bags while the battalion is charging with +fixed bayonets; and in the evening sending up parties of weary laden +carriers over shell-swept areas, while I myself stay behind at +the Dump. Damn! Damn!! Damn!!! Then I shall receive ironical +congratulations on my "cushy" job. + + * * * * * + +Have just seen the battalion off. I don't start for another five +hours. I loathe war. It is futile, idiotic. I would gladly be out +of the Army to-morrow. Glory is a painted idol, honour a phantasy, +religion a delusion. We wallow in blood and torture to please +a creature of our imagination. We are no better than South Sea +Islanders. + + * * * * * + +Just here the attack was a failure. When I got to the Dump I found the +battalion still there. By an irony of fate I was the only officer of +my company to set foot in the German lines. After a day of idleness +and depression I had to detail a party to carry bombs at top speed to +some relics of the leading battalions, who were still clinging to the +extremest corner of the enemy's front line some distance to our left. +Being fed up with inaction, I took the party myself. It was a long +way. The trenches were choked with wounded and stragglers and troops +who had never been ordered to advance. In many places they were broken +down by shell-fire, in others they were waist-deep in water. By dint +of much shouting and shoving and cursing I managed to get through +with about ten of my men, but had to leave the others to follow with a +sergeant. + +At last we sighted our objective, a cluster of chalk mounds surrounded +with broken wire, shell craters, corpses, wreathed in smoke, dotted +with men. I think we all ran across the ground between our front +line and our objective, though it must have been more or less dead +ground. Anyhow, only one man was hit. When we got close the scene +was absurdly like a conventional battle picture--the sort of picture +that one never believes in for a minute. There was a wild mixture of +regiments--Jocks, Irishmen, Territorials, etc., etc. There was no +proper trench left. There were rifles, a machine gun, a Lewis rifle, +and bombs all going at the same time. There were wounded men sitting +in a kind of helpless stupor; there were wounded trying to drag +themselves back to our own lines; there were the dead of whom no one +took any notice. But the prevailing note was one of utter weariness +coupled with dogged tenacity. + +Here and there were men who were self-conscious, wondering what would +become of themselves. I was one of them, and we were none the better +for it. Most of the fellows, though, had forgotten themselves. They no +longer flinched, or feared. They had got beyond that. They were just +set on clinging to that mound and keeping the Huns at bay until their +officer gave the word to retire. Their spirit was the spirit of the +oarsman, the runner, or the footballer, who has strained himself to +the utmost, who if he stopped to wonder whether he could go on or not +would collapse; but who, because he does not stop to wonder, goes on +miraculously long after he should, by all the laws of nature, have +succumbed to sheer exhaustion. + +Having delivered my bombs into eager hands, I reported to the officer +who seemed to be in charge, and asked if I could do anything. I must +frankly admit that my one hope was that he would not want me to stay. +He began to say how that morning he had reached his objective, and how +for lack of support on his flank, for lack of bombs, for lack of men, +he had been forced back; and how for eight hours he had disputed every +inch of ground till now his men could only cling to these mounds with +the dumb mechanical tenacity of utter exhaustion. "You might go to +H.Q.," he said at last, "and tell them where I am, and that I can't +hold on without ammunition and a barrage." + +I am afraid that I went with joy on that errand. I did not want to +stay on those chalk mounds. + + * * * * * + +I only saw a very little bit of the battle. Thank God it has gone well +elsewhere; but here we are where we started. Day and night we have +done nothing but bring in the wounded and the dead. When one sees the +dead, their limbs crushed and mangled, their features distorted and +blackened, one can only have repulsion for war. It is easy to talk of +glory and heroism when one is away from it, when memory has softened +the gruesome details. But here, in the presence of the mutilated and +tortured dead, one can only feel the horror and wickedness of war. +Indeed it is an evil harvest, sown of pride and arrogance and lust of +power. Maybe through all this evil and pain we shall be purged of many +sins. God grant it! If ever there were martyrs, some of these were +martyrs, facing death and torture as ghastly as any that confronted +the saints of old, and facing it with but little of that fierce +fanatical exaltation of faith that the early Christians had to help +them. + +For these were mostly quiet souls, loving their wives and children +and the little comforts of home life most of all, little stirred by +great emotions or passions. Yet they had some love for liberty, some +faith in God,--not a high and flaming passion, but a quiet insistent +conviction. It was enough to send them out to face martyrdom, though +their lack of imagination left them mercifully ignorant of the +extremity of its terrors. It was enough, when they saw their danger in +its true perspective, to keep them steadfast and tenacious. + +For them "it is finished." _R.I.P._ + + + + +V + +ROMANCE + + +I suppose that there are very few officers or men who have been at the +front for any length of time who would not be secretly, if not openly, +relieved and delighted if they "got a cushy one" and found themselves +_en route_ for "Blighty"; yet in many ways soldiering at the front +is infinitely preferable to soldiering at home. One of the factors +which count most heavily in favour of the front, is the extraordinary +affection of officers for their men. + +In England, officers hardly know their men. They live apart, only meet +on parade, and their intercourse is carried on through the prescribed +channels. Even if you do get keen on a particular squad of recruits, +or a particular class of would-be bombers, you lose them so soon that +your enthusiasm never ripens into anything like intimacy. But at the +front you have your own platoon; and week after week, month after +month, you are living in the closest proximity; you see them all day, +you get to know the character of each individual man and boy, and the +result in nearly every case is this extraordinary affection of which I +have spoken. + +You will find it in the most unlikely subjects. I have heard a Major, +a Regular with, as I thought, a good deal of regimental stiffness, +talk about his men with a voice almost choked with emotion. "When +you see what they have to put up with, and how amazingly cheery they +are through it all, you feel that you can't do enough for them. They +make you feel that you're not fit to black their boots." And then he +went on to tell how it was often the fellows whom in England you had +despaired of, fellows who were always "up at orders," who out at the +front became your right-hand men, the men on whom you found yourself +relying. + +I had a letter not long ago from a gunner Captain, also a Regular, who +has been out almost since the beginning of the war. He wrote: "One of +my best friends has just been killed"; and the "best friend" was not +the fellow he had known at "the shop," or played polo with in India, +or hunted with in Ireland, but a scamp of a telephonist, who had +stolen his whisky and owned up; who had risked his life for him, who +had been a fellow-sportsman who could be relied on in a tight corner +in the most risky of all games. + +There is indeed a glamour and a pathos about the private soldier, +especially when, as so often happens, he is really only a boy. When +you meet him in the trenches, wet, covered with mud, with tired eyes +speaking of long watches and hours of risky work, he never fails to +greet you with a smile, and you love him for it, and feel that nothing +you can do can make up to him for it. For you have slept in a much +more comfortable place than he has. You have had unlimited tobacco +and cigarettes. You have had a servant to cook for you. You have fared +sumptuously compared with him. You don't feel his superior. You don't +want to be "gracious without undue familiarity." Exactly what you want +to do is a bit doubtful--the Major said he wanted to black his boots +for him, and that is perhaps the best way of expressing it. + +When he goes over the top and works away in front of the parapet with +the moon shining full and the machine guns busy all along; when he +gets back to billets, and throws off his cares and bathes and plays +games like any irresponsible schoolboy; even when he breaks bounds and +is found by the M.P. skylarking in ----, you can't help loving him. +Most of all, when he lies still and white with a red stream trickling +from where the sniper's bullet has made a hole through his head, there +comes a lump in your throat that you can't swallow; and you turn away +so that you shan't have to wipe the tears from your eyes. + +Gallant souls, those boys, and all the more gallant because they hate +war so much. Their nerves quiver when a shell or a "Minnie" falls into +the trench near them, and then they smile to hide their weakness. They +hate going over the parapet when the machine guns are playing; so +they don't hesitate, but plunge over with a smile to hide their fears. +Their cure for every mental worry is a smile, their answer to every +prompting of fear is a plunge. They have no philosophy or fanaticism +to help them--only the sporting instinct which is in every healthy +British boy. + +Then there are "the old men," less attractive, less stirring to the +imagination, less sensitive, but who grow upon you more and more as +you get to know them. Any one over twenty-three or so is an "old +man." They have lost the grace, the irresponsibility, the sensibility +of youth. Their eyes and mouths are steadier, their movements more +deliberate. But they are the fellows whom you would choose for a +patrol, or a raid, where a cool head and a stout heart are what is +wanted. It takes you longer to know these. They are less responsive to +your advances. But when you have tested them and they have tested you, +you know that you have that which is stronger than any terror of night +or day, a loyalty which nothing can shake. + +And then when he thinks how little he deserves all this love and +loyalty, the subaltern's heart aches with a feeling that can find no +expression either in word or deed. + +This is a tale that has often been told, and that people in England +know by heart. It cannot be told too often. It cannot be learnt too +well. For the time will come when we shall need to remember it, and +when it will be easy to forget. Will you remember it, O ye people, +when the boy has become a man, and the soldier has become a workman? +But there are other tales to tell. There are the tales of the +sergeant-major and the sergeants, the corporals and the "lance-jacks." +Sergeant-majors, sergeants, and corporals are not romantic figures. If +you think of them at all, you probably think of rumjars and profanity. +Yet they are the very backbone of the Army. I have been a sergeant and +I have been a private soldier, and I know that the latter has much +the better time of the two. He at least has the kind of liberty +which belongs to utter irresponsibility. If he breaks bounds in the +exuberance of his spirits, no one thinks much worse of him as long as +he does not make a song about paying the penalty! + +Of course he has to be punished. So many days of sleeping in the guard +tent, extra fatigues, pack-drill, and perhaps a couple of hours tied +up, as an example to evil-doers. But if he has counted the cost, and +pays the price with a grin, we just say "Young scamp!" and dismiss +the matter. But if a sergeant or a corporal does the same, that's a +very different matter. He has shown himself unfit for his job. He +has betrayed a trust. We cannot forgive him. Responsibility has its +disadvantages. The senior N.C.O. gets no relaxation from discipline. +In the line and out of it he must always be watchful, self-controlled, +orderly. He must never wink. These men have not the glamour of the boy +private; but their high sense of duty and discipline, their keenness +and efficiency, merit all the honour that we can give them. + +Finally--for it would not do for a subaltern to discuss his +superiors--we come to the junior officer. Somehow I fancy that in the +public eye he too is a less romantic figure than the private. One does +not associate him with privations and hardships, but with parcels from +home. Well, it is quite right. He has such a much less uncomfortable +time than his men that he does not deserve or want sympathy on that +score. He is better off in every way. He has better quarters, better +food, more kit, a servant, and in billets far greater liberty. And yet +there is many a man who is now an officer who looks back on his days +as a private with regret. Could he have his time over again ... yes, +he would take a commission; but he would do so, not with any thought +for the less hardship of it, but from a stern sense of duty--the sense +of duty which does not allow a man with any self-respect to refuse to +shoulder a heavier burden when called upon to do so. + +Those apparently irresponsible subalterns whom you see entertaining +their lady friends at the Canton or Ciro's do, when they are at the +front, have very heavy responsibilities. Even in the ordinary routine +of trench life, so many decisions have to be made, with the chance of +a "telling off" whichever way you choose, and the lives of other men +hanging in the balance. Suppose you are detailed for a wiring party, +and you arrive to find a full moon beaming sardonically down at you. +What are you to do? If you go out you may be seen. Half a dozen of +your men may be mown down by a machine gun. You will be blamed and +will blame yourself for not having decided to remain behind the +parapet. If you do not go out you may set a precedent, and night after +night the work will be postponed, till at last it is too late, and +the Hun has got through, and raided the trench. If you hesitate or ask +advice you are lost. You have to make up your mind in an instant, and +to stand by it. If you waver your men will never have confidence in +you again. + +Still more in a push; a junior subaltern is quite likely to find +himself at any time in command of a company, while he may for a day +even have to command the relics of a battalion. I have seen boys +almost fresh from a Public School in whose faces there were two +personalities expressed: the one full of the lighthearted, reckless, +irresponsible vitality of boyhood, and the other scarred with +the anxious lines of one to whom a couple of hundred exhausted +and nerve-shattered men have looked, and not looked in vain, for +leadership and strength in their grim extremity. From a boy in such +a position is required something far more difficult than personal +courage. If we praise the boy soldier for his smile in the face of +shells and machine guns, don't let us forget to praise still more the +boy officer who, in addition to facing death on his own account, has +to bear the responsibility of the lives of a hundred other men. There +is many a man of undoubted courage whose nerve would fail to bear that +strain. + +A day or two ago I was reading _Romance_, by Joseph Conrad and Ford +Madox Hueffer. It is a glorious tale of piracy and adventure in the +West Indies; but for the moment I wondered how it came about that +Conrad, the master of psychology, should have helped to write such +a book. And then I understood. For these boys who hate the war, and +suffer and endure with the smile that is sometimes so difficult, and +long with a great longing for home and peace--some day some of them +will look back on these days and will tell themselves that after all +it was Romance, the adventure, which made their lives worth while. And +they will long to feel once again the stirring of the old comradeship +and love and loyalty, to dip their clasp-knives into the same pot of +jam, and lie in the same dug-out, and work on the same bit of wire +with the same machine gun striking secret terror into their hearts, +and look into each other's eyes for the same courageous smile. For +Romance, after all, is woven of the emotions, especially the elemental +ones of love and loyalty and fear and pain. + +We men are never content! In the dull routine of normal life we sigh +for Romance, and sometimes seek to create it artificially, stimulating +spurious passions, plunging into muddy depths in search of it. Now we +have got it we sigh for a quiet life. But some day those who have not +died will say: "Thank God I have lived! I have loved, and endured, and +trembled, and trembling, dared. I have had my Romance." + + + + +VI + +IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS + + +I + + SCENE. _A field in Flanders. All round the edge are bivouacs, + built of sticks and waterproof sheets. Three men are squatting + round a small fire, waiting for a couple of mess-tins of water + to boil_. + +BILL (_gloomily_). The last three of the old lot! Oo's turn next? + +FRED. Wot's the bleedin' good of bein' dahn in the mahf abaht it? Give +me the bleedin' 'ump, you do. + +JIM. Are we dahn-'earted? Not 'alf, we ain't! + +BILL. I don't know as I cares. Git it over, I sez. 'Ave done wiv it! +I dessay as them wot's gone West is better off nor wot we are, arter +all. + +JIM. Orlright, old sport, you go an' look for the V.C., and we'll pick +up the bits an' bury 'em nice an' deep! + +BILL. If this 'ere bleedin' war don't finish soon that's wot I +bleedin' well will go an' do. Wish they'd get a move on an' finish it. + +FRED. If ever I gets 'ome agin, I'll never do another stroke in +my natural. The old woman can keep me, ---- 'er, an' if she don't +I'll--well--'er ---- ----. + +JIM (_indignantly_). Nice sort o' bloke you are! Arter creatin' abaht +ole Bill makin' you miserable, you goes on to plan 'ow you'll make +other folks miserable! Wot's the bleedin' good o' that? Keep smilin', +I sez, an' keep other folks smilin' too, if you can. If ever I gets +'ome I'll go dahn on my bended, I will, and I'll be a different sort +o' bloke to wot I been afore. Swelp me, Bob, I will! My missus won't +'ave no cause to wish as I've been done in. + +BILL. Ah well, it don't much matter. We're all most like to go afore +this war's finished. + +JIM. If yer goes yer goes, and that's all abaht it. A bloke's got to +go some day, and fer myself I'd as soon get done in doin' my dooty as +I would die in my bed. I ain't struck on dyin' afore my time, and I +don't know as I'm greatly struck on livin', but, whichever it is, you +got ter make the best on it. + +BILL (_meditatively_). I woulden mind stoppin' a bullet fair an' +square; but I woulden like one of them 'orrible lingerin' deaths. +"Died o' wounds" arter six munfs' mortal hagony--that's wot gets at +me. Git it over an' done wiv, I sez. + +FRED (_querulously_). Ow, chuck it, Bill. You gives me the creeps, you +do. + +JIM. I knowed a bloke onest in civil life wot died a lingerin' death. +Lived in the second-floor back in the same 'ouse as me an' my missus, +'e did. Suffered somefink' 'orrible, 'e did, an' lingered more nor +five year. Yet I reckon 'e was one o' the best blokes as ever I come +acrost. Went to 'eaven straight, 'e did, if ever any one did. Wasn't +'alf glad ter go, neither. "I done my bit of 'ell, Jim," 'e sez to +me, an' looked that 'appy you'd a' thought as 'e was well agin. Shan't +never forget 'is face, I shan't. An' I'd sooner be that bloke, for all +'is sufferin's, than I'd be old Fred 'ere, an' live to a 'undred. + +BILL (_philosophically_). You'm right, matey. This is a wale o' tears, +as the 'ymn sez, and them as is out on it is best off, if so be as +they done their dooty in that state o' life.... Where's the corfee, +Jim? The water's on the bile. + + + + +VII + +THE FEAR OF DEATH IN WAR + + +I am not a psychologist, and I have not seen many people die in their +beds; but I think it is established that very few people are afraid of +a natural death when it comes to the test. Often they are so weak that +they are incapable of emotion. Sometimes they are in such physical +pain that death seems a welcome deliverer. + +But a violent death such as death in battle is obviously a different +matter. It comes to a man when he is in the full possession of his +health and vigour, and when every physical instinct is urging him +to self-preservation. If a man feared death in such circumstances +one could not be surprised, and yet in the present war hundreds of +thousands of men have gone to meet practically certain destruction +without giving a sign of terror. + +The fact is that at the moment of a charge men are in an absolutely +abnormal condition. + +I do not know how to describe their condition in scientific terms; +but there is a sensation of tense excitement combined with a sort of +uncanny calm. Their emotions seem to be numbed. Noises, sights, and +sensations which would ordinarily produce intense pity, horror, or +dread, have no effect on them at all, and yet never was their mind +clearer, their sight, hearing, etc., more acute. They notice all sorts +of little details which would ordinarily pass them by, but which now +thrust themselves on their attention with absurd definiteness--absurd +because so utterly incongruous and meaningless. Or they suddenly +remember with extraordinary clearness some trivial incident of their +past life, hitherto unremembered, and not a bit worth remembering! But +with the issue before them, with victory or death or the prospect of +eternity, their minds blankly refuse to come to grips. + +No; it is not at the moment of a charge that men fear death. As in +the case of those who die in bed, Nature has an anesthetic ready for +the emergency. It is before an attack that a man is more liable to +fear--before his blood is hot, and while he still has leisure to +think. The trouble may begin a day or two in advance, when he is first +told of the attack which is likely to mean death to himself and so +many of his chums. This part is comparatively easy. It is fairly easy +to be philosophic if one has plenty of time. One indulges in regrets +about the home one may never see again. One is rather sorry for +oneself; but such self-pity is not wholly unpleasant. One feels mildly +heroic, which is not wholly disagreeable either. Very few men are +afraid of death in the abstract. Very few men believe in hell, or are +tortured by their consciences. They are doubtful about after-death, +hesitating between a belief in eternal oblivion and a belief in a new +life under the same management as the present; and neither prospect +fills them with terror. If only one's "people" would be sensible, one +would not mind. + +But as the hour approaches when the attack is due to be launched the +strain becomes more tense. The men are probably cooped up in a very +small space. Movement is very restricted. Matches must not be struck. +Voices must be hushed to a whisper. Shells bursting and machine guns +rattling bring home the grim reality of the affair. It is then more +than at any other time in an attack that a man has to "face the +spectres of the mind," and lay them if he can. Few men care for those +hours of waiting. + +Of all the hours of dismay that come to a soldier there are really few +more trying to the nerves than when he is sitting in a trench under +heavy fire from high-explosive shells or bombs from trench mortars. +You can watch these bombs lobbed up into the air. You see them slowly +wobble down to earth, there to explode with a terrific detonation +that sets every nerve in your body a-jangling. You can do nothing. You +cannot retaliate in any way. You simply have to sit tight and hope +for the best. Some men joke and smile; but their mirth is forced. Some +feign stoical indifference, and sit with a paper and a pipe; but as a +rule their pipes are out and their reading a pretence. There are few +men, indeed, whose hearts are not beating faster, and whose nerves are +not on edge. + +But you can't call this "the fear of death"; it is a purely physical +reaction of danger and detonation. It is not fear of death as death. +It is not fear of hurt as hurt. It is an infinitely intensified +dislike of suspense and uncertainty, sudden noise and shock. It +belongs wholly to the physical organism, and the only cure that I +know is to make an act of personal dissociation from the behaviour of +one's flesh. Your teeth may chatter and your knees quake, but as long +as the real you disapproves and derides this absurdity of the flesh, +the composite you can carry on. Closely allied to the sensation of +nameless dread caused by high explosives is that caused by gas. No one +can carry out a relief in the trenches without a certain anxiety and +dread if he knows that the enemy has gas cylinders in position and +that the wind is in the east. But this, again, is not exactly the +fear of death; but much more a physical reaction to uncertainty and +suspense combined with the threat of physical suffering. + +Personally, I believe that very few men indeed fear death. The vast +majority experience a more or less violent physical shrinking from +the pain of death and wounds, especially when they are obliged to be +physically inactive, and when they have nothing else to think about. +This kind of dread is, in the case of a good many men, intensified +by darkness and suspense, and by the deafening noise and shock that +accompany the detonation of high explosives. But it cannot properly be +called the fear of death, and it is a purely physical reaction which +can be, and nearly always is, controlled by the mind. + +Last of all there is the repulsion and loathing for the whole business +of war, with its bloody ruthlessness, its fiendish ingenuity, and +its insensate cruelty, that comes to a man after a battle, when the +tortured and dismembered dead lie strewn about the trench, and the +wounded groan from No-Man's-Land. But neither is that the fear of +death. It is a repulsion which breeds hot anger more often than cold +fear, reckless hatred of life more often than abject clinging to it. + +The cases where any sort of fear, even for a moment, obtains the +mastery of a man are very rare. Sometimes in the case of a boy, +whose nerves are more sensitive than a man's, and whose habit of +self-control is less formed, a sudden shock will upset his mental +balance. Sometimes a very egotistical man will succumb to danger long +drawn out. The same applies to men who are very introspective. I have +seen a man of obviously low intelligence break down on the eve of an +attack. The anticipation of danger makes many men "windy," especially +officers who are responsible for other lives than their own. But even +where men are afraid it is generally not death that they fear. Their +fear is a physical and instinctive shrinking from hurt, shock, and the +unknown, which instinct obtains the mastery only through surprise, or +through the exhaustion of the mind and will, or through a man being +excessively self-centred. It is not the fear of death rationally +considered; but an irrational physical instinct which all men possess, +but which almost all can control. + + + + +VIII + +IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS + + +II + + SCENE. _A dug-out in a wood somewhere in Flanders. Officers at + tea._ + +HANCOCK. Damned glad to be out of that infernal firing trench, +anyway. (_A dull report is heard in the distance._) There goes another +torpedo! Wonder who's copt it this time! + +SMITH. For Christ's sake talk about something else! + +HANCOCK (_ignoring him_). Are we coming back to the same trenches, +sir? + +CAPTAIN DODD. 'Spect so. + +HANCOCK. At the present rate we shall last another two spells. I hate +this sort of bisnay. You go on month after month losing fellows the +whole time, and at the end of it you're exactly where you started. I +wish they'd get a move on. + +WHISTON. Tired of life? + +HANCOCK. If you call this life, yes! If this damned war is going on +another two years, I hope to God I don't live to see the end of it. + +SMITH. If ever I get home ...! + +WHISTON. Well? + +SMITH. Won't I paint the town red, that's all! + +WHISTON. If ever I get home ... well, I guess I'll go home. No more +razzle-dazzle for master! No, there's a little girl awaiting, and I +know she thinks of me. Shan't wait any longer. + +HANCOCK (_heavily_). Don't think a chap's got any right to marry a +girl under present circs. It's ten to one she's a widow before she's +a mother. + +SMITH. Oh, shut up! + +CAPTAIN DODD (_gently_). To some women the kid would be just the one +thing that made life bearable. + +HANCOCK (_reddening_). Sorry, sir; forgot you'd just done it. Course +you're right. Depends absolutely on the girl. + +CAPTAIN DODD. Thanks. I say, Whiston, I'm going to B.H.Q. Care to come +along? + + (_They go out together._) + + SCENE. _A path through a wood_. CAPTAIN DODD _and_ WHISTON + _walking together, followed by a_ LANCE-CORPORAL. + +DODD. D'you believe in presentiments, Whiston? + +WHISTON (_doubtfully_). A year ago I should have laughed at you for +asking. Now ... + +DODD. More things in heaven and earth ...? + +WHISTON. My rationalism is always being upset! + +DODD. How exactly? + +WHISTON. For instance, I simply can't believe that old John is +finished. Can you? + +DODD (_quietly_). No. + +WHISTON. Funny thing. As far as I'm concerned I can quite imagine +myself just snuffing out. You can put one word on my grave, if I have +one--"Napu." But as for John, no. I want something else. Something +about Death being scored off after all. + +DODD. I know. "O Death, where is thy sting? O Grave, where is thy +victory?" + +WHISTON. Just that. Mind you, I don't think I'm afraid of Death. I +don't want to get killed. But if I saw him coming I think I could +smile, and feel that after all he wasn't getting much of a bargain. +But the idea of his getting old John sticks in my gullet. I believe in +all sorts of things for him. Resurrection and life and Heaven, and all +that. + +DODD. What do you think about it, Corporal? + +LANCE-CORPORAL. Same as Mr. Whiston, sir. + +WHISTON. But what about presentiments? + +DODD. Oh, I don't know. Funny thing; but all through this fortnight +I've been absolutely certain that I was not for it. + +LANCE-CORPORAL. Beg pardon, sir, we noticed that, sir! + +WHISTON. Well, it's practically over now. + +DODD. I'm not so sure. I'm not in a funk, you know. It's simply that I +don't feel so sure. + +WHISTON. Oh, rot, sir! I don't believe in that sort of presentiment. + +DODD. What do you think, Corporal? + +LANCE-CORPORAL. I think you goes when your time comes, sir. But it +won't come to-night, sir. Not after all we been through this spell, +and the spell just finished. + +DODD. I believe you're right, Corporal. We shall go when our time +comes, and not before. I like that idea, you know. It means one hasn't +got to worry. + +WHISTON. If it means that you go on as you've done the last fortnight, +it's a damnable doctrine, sir. You've no business to go taking +unnecessary risks simply because you've got bitten by Mohammedanism. + +DODD (_thoughtfully_). You're right, too, Whiston. "Thou shalt not +tempt the Lord thy God." One shouldn't take unnecessary risks. Mind +you, I don't admit that I have. It just enables one to do one's job +with a quiet mind, that's all. + + +TWO DAYS LATER + + SCENE. _A billet._ HANCOCK _and_ SMITH. + +HANCOCK. Damn! + +SMITH. What's up? Aren't you satisfied? The brigade's bound to go back +and re-form now, and that means that we shan't be in the trenches for +a couple of months at least. We may even go where there's a pretty +girl or two. My word! + +HANCOCK. Damnation! + +SMITH (_genuinely astonished_). What the hell's wrong? Any one would +think you liked the trenches! Personally, I don't care if I never see +them again. England's full of nice young, bright young things crying +to get out. Let 'em all come! They can have my job and welcome! + +HANCOCK (_to himself_). God! Why Dodd and Whiston? Why, why, why? Why +not me? Why just the fellows we can't afford to lose? + +SMITH. Oh, for God's sake stow it! What the hell's the good of going +on like that? Of course I'm sorry for them and all that. But I don't +see that it's going to help them to make oneself miserable about it. + +HANCOCK (_fiercely_). Sorry for them! It's not them I'm sorry for! +They ... they're the lucky ones! God! I suppose that's the answer! +They'd earned it! + +SMITH (_satirically_). Have you turned pi? We shall have you saying +the prayers that you learnt at your mother's knee next, I suppose! +I shall have to tell the Padre, and he'll preach a sermon about it! +I should never have thought you would have been _frightened_ into +religion! + +HANCOCK. Frightened! You little swine! _You_ talk about being +frightened after last night! I tell you I'd rather be lying out there +with Dodd and Whiston than be sitting here with you. Frightened into +religion! + +SMITH. Oh, I suppose you're the next candidate for death or glory! +Good luck to you! I'm not competing. I'll do my job; but I'm not going +to make a fool of myself. Dodd and Whiston deserved all they got. +You're right there. You'll get what you deserve some day, I expect! +Don't look at me like that. I've said I'm sorry, and all that. But +it's the truth I'm speaking, all the same. + +HANCOCK. And you'll get what you deserve too, I suppose, which is to +live in your own company till the end of your miserable existence. I +won't deprive you of your reward more than I can help, I promise you! + + (HANCOCK _goes out._) + + + + +IX + +THE WISDOM OF "A STUDENT IN ARMS" + + +It is no good trying to fathom "things" to the bottom; they have not +got one. + +Knowledge is always descriptive, and never fundamental. We can +describe the appearance and conditions of a process; but not the way +of it. + +Agnosticism is a fundamental fact. It is the starting-point of the +wise man who has discovered that it needs eternity to study infinity. + +Agnosticism, however, is no excuse for indolence. Because we cannot +know all, we need not therefore be totally ignorant. + +The true wisdom is that in which all knowledge is subordinate to +practical aims, and blended into a working philosophy of life. + +The true wisdom is that it is not what a man does, or has, or says, +that matters; but what he is. + +This must be the aim of practical philosophy--to make a man be +_something_. + +The world judges a man by his station, inherited or acquired. God +judges by his character. To be our best we must share God's viewpoint. + +To the world death is always a tragedy; to the Christian it is never a +tragedy unless a man has been a contemptible character. + +Religion is the widening of a man's horizon so as to include God. + +It is in the nature of a speculation, but its returns are immediate. + +True religion means betting one's life that there is a God. + +Its immediate fruits are courage, stability, calm, unselfishness, +friendship, generosity, humility, and hope. + +Religion is the only possible basis of optimism. + +Optimism is the essential condition of progress. + +One is what one believes oneself to be. If one believes oneself to be +an animal one becomes bestial; if one believes oneself spiritual one +becomes Divine. + +Faith is an effective force whose measure has never yet been taken. + +Man is the creature of heredity and environment. He can only rise +superior to circumstances by bringing God into environment of which he +is conscious. + +The recognition of God's presence upsets the balance of a man's +environment, and means a new birth into a new life. + +The faculties which perceive God increase with use like any other +perceptive faculties. + +Belief in God may be an illusion; but it is an illusion that pays. + +If belief in God is illusion, happy is he who is deluded! He gains +this world and thinks he will gain the next. + +The disbeliever loses this world, and risks losing the next. + +To be the centre of one's universe is misery. To have one's universe +centred in God is the peace that passeth understanding. + +Greatness is founded on inward peace. + +Energy is only effective when it springs from deep calm. + +The pleasure of life lies in contrasts; the fear of contrasts is a +chain that binds most men. + +In the hour of danger a man is proven. The boaster hides, and the +egotist trembles. He whose care is for others forgets to be afraid. + +Men live for eating and drinking, passion and wealth. They die for +honour. + +Blessed is he of whom it has been said that he so loved giving that he +even gave his own life. + + + + +X + +IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS + + +III + + SCENE. _A trench unpleasantly near the firing line. There + has been an hour's intense bombardment by the British, with + suitable retaliation by the Boches. The retaliation is just + dying down._ + + CHARACTERS. ALBERT--_Round-eyed, rotund, red-cheeked, + yellow-haired, and deliberate; in civil life probably a + drayman._ JIM--_Small, lean, sallow, grey-eyed, with a kind + of quiet restlessness; in civil life probably a mechanic with + leanings towards Socialism._ POZZIE--_A thick-set, low-browed, + impassive, silent_ _country youth, with a face the colour of + the soil._ JINKS--_An old soldier, red, lean, wrinkled, with + very blue eyes. His face is rough-hewn, almost grotesque + like a gargoyle. In his eyes there is a perpetual glint of + humour, and in the poise of his head a certain irrepressible + jauntiness._ + +ALBERT (_whose eyes are more staring than ever, his cheeks pendulous +and crimson, his general air that of a partly deflated air-cushion_). +Gawd's truth! + +JINKS (_wagging his head_). Well, my old sprig o' mint, what's wrong +wi' you? + +ALBERT. It ain't right. (_Sententiously_) It's agin natur'. Flesh an' +blood weren't made for this sort o' think. + +JIM. It ain't flesh an' blood that can't stand it. It's Mind. Look at +old Pozzie. 'E's flesh an' blood, and don't turn an 'air! For myself +I'll go potty one o' these days. + +JINKS (_slapping POZZIE on the back_). You don't take no notice, do +you, old lump o' duff? + +POZZIE. Oi woulden moind if I got moy rations; but a chap can't keep a +good 'eart if 'e's got an empty stummick. + +JIM (_sarcastically_). You keep yer 'eart in yer stomach, don't yer? +You ain't got no mind, you ain't. Jinks was born potty, an' the rest +of us'll all go potty except you. It's you an' yer Ally Sloper's +Cavalry what'll win the war, I don't think! + +ALBERT. What I wants ter know is 'ow long the bleedin' war's a-goin' +ter last. If it goes on much longer I'll be potty if I ain't a gone +'un. + +JIM. There's only one way of ending it as I knows on. + +ALBERT. What's that, matey? + +JIM. Put all the bleedin' politicians on both sides in the bleedin' +trenches. Give 'em a week's bombardment, an' send 'em away for a week +to make peace, with a promise of a fortnight's intense at the end of +it if they've failed. They'd find a way, sure enough. + +ALBERT (admiringly). Ah, that they would an' all. If old "Wait +and See" 'ad been 'ere these last four days 'e wouldn't talk about +fightin' to the last man! + +JINKS. Don't talk stoopid. 'Oo began the bloomin' war? Don't yer know +what you're fightin' for? D'you want ter leave the 'Uns in France an' +Belgium an' Serbia an' all? It ain't fer us to make peace. It's fer +the 'Uns. An' if you are done in, you got to go under some day. I +ain't sure as they ain't the lucky ones what's got it over and done +with. And arter all, it's not us what's not proper. The 'Uns 'ave 'ad +two fer our one. + +ALBERT. They got dug-outs as deep as 'ell, it don't touch 'em. + +JINKS. (_but without conviction_). Don't talk silly. + +POZZIE. Oi reckon we got to go through with it. But they didn't ought +to give a chap short rations. That's what takes the 'eart out of a +chap. + + + + +XI + +LETTER TO AN ARMY CHAPLAIN[2] + + +_April 17, 1916._ + +Thank you very much for your letter of a week ago, which I should +have tried to answer before if I had had time. I am afraid that your +confidence in me as an oracle will be severely shaken when I confess +that I was once on the eve of being ordained, and that in the end +I funked it because it seemed such an awfully difficult job, and I +couldn't see my way to going through with it. + +[Footnote 2: This chapter is the actual text of a letter from "A +Student in Arms," and like the most of the other chapters appeared +originally in the _Spectator_.] + +However, I must try to answer your letter as best I can, and I hope +that you will not mind my speaking plainly what I think, and will +remember that I do so in no spirit of superiority, but very humbly, as +one who has funked the great work that you have had the pluck to take +up, and who has even failed in the little bit of work that he himself +did try and do. This last means that I have no business to be an +officer. It was the biggest mistake in my life, for my position in the +ranks did give me a hold on the fellows, the strength of which I have +only realized since I left. + +Now then to the point. As I understand you, your difficulty is that +you feel that you must devote yourself to strengthening a very few men +who are already Churchmen, and to whom you can talk in the language +of the Church of things which you know they want to hear about, or +you must appeal to the crowd of those who are merely good fellows and +often sad scamps too, who must be caught with buns and cinemas and who +are very difficult to get any farther. + +I fancy that you, like me, when you see a fine dashing young fellow, +with a touch of honesty and recklessness and wonderful mystery of +youth in his eyes, love him as a brother, and long to do something to +keep him clean, and to keep him from the sordid things to which you +and I know well enough he will descend in the long run if one cannot +put the love of clean, wholesome life into his heart. But how to get +at him? If you talk to him about his soul you disgust him, and you +feel a sort of sneaking sympathy with him too. It does not seem the +thing to make a chap self-conscious and a bit of a prig when he is +not one to start with. On the other hand, if you just keep to buns and +cinemas you never get any farther. Well, it is a big difficulty. The +only experience that I have had which counts at all is experience that +I gained while trying to run a boys' club in South London, and you +must not think me egotistical if I tell you what seems to me to have +been the secret of any power that I seem to have had over fellows. + +At first I used to have a short service at the close of the club every +evening, to which most of the boys used to stay. I also had a service +on Sunday afternoon. Something of the same sort might perhaps be +possible in the Y.M.C.A. tent if there is one where you are. When I +was talking to them at these services I always used to try and make +them feel that Christ was the fulfilment of all the best things that +they admired, that He was their natural hero. I would tell them some +story of heroism and meanness contrasted, of courage and cowardice, of +noble forgiveness and vile cruelty, and so get them on the side of the +angels. Then I would try and spring it upon them that Christ was the +Lord of the heroes and the brave men and the noble men, and that He +was fighting against all that was mean and cruel and cowardly, and +that it was up to them to take their stand by His side if they wanted +to make the world a little better instead of a little worse, and I +would try to show them how in little practical ways in their homes and +at their work and in the club they could do a bit for Christ. + +Well, they listened pretty well, and I think that they agreed in +a general sort of way, only 'they knew that I was a richish man in +comparison with them, and that I didn't have their difficulties to +contend with, and that all tended to undo the effect of what I had +said. And then accident gave me a sort of clue to the way to get them +to take one seriously. For some idiotic reason--I really couldn't say +just what it was--I dressed up as a tramp one day, and spent a night +in a casual ward. I didn't do it for any very worthy motive, and I +didn't mean any one to know about it; but it got round, and I suddenly +found that it had caught the imaginations of some of the fellows, and +I realized that if one was to have any power over them one must do +symbolic things to show them that one meant what one said about love +being really better than money, and all that sort of thing. So in +rather a half-hearted way I did try to do things which would show +them that I was in earnest. I took a couple of rooms in a little +cottage in a funny little bug-ridden court, instead of living at the +mission-house. I went out to Australia steerage to see why emigration +of London boys was not a success, and when war broke out I enlisted, +although I had previously held a commission. And all these little +things, though on reasonable grounds often rather indefensible, +undoubtedly had the effect of making my South London boys take me +more seriously than they did at first. Well, I am quite sure that with +Tommies, if ever you get a chance of doing something in the way of +sharing their privations and dangers when you aren't obliged to, or of +showing in practical ways humility and unselfishness, that will endear +you to them, and give you weight with them more than anything else. In +my time in the ranks I had that proved over and over again. If once +I was able to do even a small kindness for a fellow which involved a +bit of unnecessary trouble, he would never forget it, and would repay +me a thousand times over. I was a sergeant for about nine months in +England, and had one or two chances. Then I reverted to the ranks, +and for that the men could not do enough to show me kindness. (It was +my not valuing rank and comparative comfort for its own sake that +appealed to them.) Continually I have reaped a most gigantic reward of +goodwill for actions which cost very little, and which were not always +done from the motives imputed. + +I am not swanking--at least, I don't mean to--but that is just my +experience, that with Tommy it is actions, and specially actions that +imply and symbolize humility, courage, unselfishness, etc., that +count ten thousand times more than the best sermons in the world. I am +afraid that all this is not much good because you are an officer, and +your course of action is very clearly marked out for you by authority. +But I do say that if ever you have a chance of showing that you are +willing to share the often hard and sometimes humiliating lot of the +men it is that which above all things will give you power with them; +just as it is the Cross of Christ, and the spitting and the mocking +and the scourging, and the degradation of His exposure in dying, that +gives Him His power far more than even the Sermon on the Mount. After +all, it is always what costs most that is best worth having, and if +you only see Tommy in his easiest moments, when he is at the Y.M.C.A. +or the club, you see him at the time when he is least impressionable +in a permanent manner. + +Well, I must apologize for writing such an egotistical and intimate +sort of letter on so slight a provocation. But this that I have said +is all that my experience has taught me about influencing the Tommy. + +No doubt there are other ways; but I have not been able to strike +them. + +Yours very truly, DONALD HANKEY, 2nd Lieut. + +P.S.--Of course in becoming a Second Lieutenant I have dished my own +influence most effectually. It has often appeared to me that among +ordinary working men humility was considered the Christian virtue _par +excellence_. Humility combined with love is so rare, I suppose, and +that is why it is marvelled at. + + + + +XII + +"DON'T WORRY" + + +This is at present the soldier's favourite chorus at the front-- + + "What's the use of worrying? + It never was worth while! + Pack up your troubles in your old kit-bag + And Smile, Smile, Smile!" + +Not a bad chorus, either, for the trenches! You can't stop a shell +from bursting in your trench, even if Mr. Rawson can! You can't stop +the rain, or prevent a light from going up just as you are half-way +over the parapet ... so what on earth is the use of worrying? If you +can't alter things, you must accept them, and make the best of them. + +Yet some men do worry, and by so doing effectually destroy their peace +of mind without doing any one any good. What is worse, it is often the +religious man who worries. I have even heard those whose care was for +the soldier's soul, deplore the fact that he did not worry! I have +heard it said that the soldier is so careless, realizes his position +so little, is so hard to touch! And, on the other hand, I have heard +the soldier say that he did not want religion, because it would make +him worry. Strange, isn't it, if Christianity means worry and anxiety, +and if it is only the heathen who is cheerful and free from care? Yet +the feeling that this is so undoubtedly exists, and it must have some +foundation. Perhaps it is one of the subjects which ought to engage +the attention of Churchmen in these days of "repentance and hope." + +Of course, worrying is about as un-Christian as anything can +be. [Greek: "mê merimnate tê psychê umôn"]--"Don't worry about your +life"--is the Master's express command. In fact, the call of Christ is +a call to something very like the cheerfulness of the soldier in the +trenches. It is a call to a life of external turmoil and internal +peace. "I came not to bring peace, but a sword"; "take up your +cross and follow Me"; "ye shall be hated"; "he that would save his +life shall lose it." It is a call to take risks, to risk poverty, +unpopularity, humiliation, death. It is a call to follow the way of +the Cross. But the way of the Cross is also the way of peace, the +peace of God that passeth understanding. It is a way of freedom from +all cares, and anxieties, and fears; but not a way of escape from them. + +Yet worrying is often a feature of the actual Churchman. The actual +Churchman is often a man whose conscience is an incubus. He can do +nothing without weighing motives and calculating results. It makes +him introspective to an extent that is positively morbid. He is +continually probing himself to discover whether his motives are really +pure and disinterested, continually trying to decide whether he is +"worthy" or "fit" to undertake this or that responsibility, or to +face this or that eventuality. He is full of suspicion of himself, +of self-distrust. In the trenches he is always wondering whether he +is fit to die, whether he will acquit himself worthily in a crisis, +whether he has done anything that he ought not to have done, or left +undone anything that he ought to have done. Especially if he is an +officer, his responsibility weighs on him terribly, and I have known +more than one good fellow and conscientious Churchman worry himself +into thinking that he was unfit for his responsibilities as an +officer, and ask to be relieved of them. + +There must be something wrong about the Christianity of such men. +Their over-conscientiousness seems to create a wholly wrong sense +of proportion, an exaggerated sense of the significance of their own +actions and characters which is as far removed as can be from the +childlike humility which Christ taught. The truth seems to be that we +lay far too much stress on conscience, self-examination, and personal +salvation, and that we trust the Holy Spirit far too little. + +If we look to the teaching of Christ, we do not find any +recommendation to meticulous self-analysis, but rather we are taught +a kind of spiritual recklessness, an unquestioning confidence in what +seem to be right impulses, and that quite regardless of results. We +are not told to be careful to spend each penny to the best advantage; +but we are told that if our money is preventing us from entering the +Kingdom, we had better give it all away. We are not told to set a high +value on our lives, and to spend them with care for the good of the +Kingdom. On the contrary, we are told to risk our lives recklessly +if we would preserve them. A sense of anxious responsibility is +discouraged. If our limbs cause us to offend, we are advised to cut +them off. + +The whole teaching of the Gospels is that we have got to find freedom +and peace in trusting ourselves implicitly to the care of God. We +have got to follow what we think right quite recklessly, and leave the +issue to God; and in judging between right and wrong we are only given +two rules for our guidance. Everything which shows love for God and +love for man is right, and everything which shows personal ambition +and anxiety is wrong. + +What all this means as far as the trenches are concerned is +extraordinarily clear. The Christian is advised not to be too +pushing or ambitious. He is advised to "take the lowest room." But +if he is told to move up higher, he has got to go. If he is given +responsibility, there is no question of refusing it. He has got to do +his best and leave the issue to God. If he does well, he will be given +more responsibility. But there is no need to worry. The same formula +holds good for the new sphere. Let him do his best and leave the issue +to God. If he does badly, well, if he did his best, that means that +he was not fit for the job, and he must be perfectly willing to take a +humbler job, and do his best at that. + +As for personal danger, he must not think of it. If he is killed, that +is a sign that he is no longer indispensable. Perhaps he is wanted +elsewhere. The enemy can only kill the body, and the body is not the +important thing about him. Every man who goes to war must, if he is to +be happy, give his body, a living sacrifice, to God and his country. +It is no longer his. He need not worry about it. The peace of God +which passeth all understanding simply comes from not worrying about +results because they are God's business and not ours, and in trusting +implicitly all impulses that make for love of God and man. Few of us +perhaps will ever attain to a full measure of such faith; but at least +we can make sure that our "Christianity" brings us nearer to it. + + + + +XIII + +IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS + + +IV + +_AU COIFFEUR_ + + SCENE. _A barber's shop in a small French town about thirty + miles from the front. A_ SUBALTERN _and a stout_ BOURGEOIS + _are waiting their turn_. + +BOURGEOIS. Is it that it is the mud of the trenches on the boots of +Monsieur? + +SUBALTERN. Ah! but no, Monsieur, for then it would reach to my waist! + +BOURGEOIS. Nevertheless, Monsieur is but recently come from the +trenches, is it not so? + +SUBALTERN. Yes, I am arrived from the trenches yesterday. + +BOURGEOIS. Then Monsieur has assisted at the great attack! + +SUBALTERN. Oh, yes, I helped a very little bit. + +BOURGEOIS. There have been immense losses, is it not so? + +SUBALTERN (_vaguely_). There are always great losses when one attacks. + +BOURGEOIS. Ah! but much greater than one expected--I have seen, I, the +wounded coming down the river. + +SUBALTERN. I--I have always expected great losses. + +BOURGEOIS. 'Tis true. There are always great losses when one attacks. +But all goes well, Monsieur, is it not so? + +SUBALTERN. It is difficult to estimate the success of an attack until +after several weeks. But I think that all goes well. + +BOURGEOIS. But yes, the French, they have had a great success, and +also the English. The English are wonderful. Their equipment! It is +that which astonishes me. Everything is complete. They say that +the English have saved France; but the French also, they have saved +England, is it not so, Monsieur? + +SUBALTERN. But we are saving each other! + +BOURGEOIS. Good! We are saving each other! Very good! But after the +war, Monsieur, England will fight against France, _hein_? + +SUBALTERN. Never! + +BOURGEOIS. Never? + +SUBALTERN. Never in life! + +BOURGEOIS. You think so? + +SUBALTERN. We do not love war. We do not seek war. It is only when a +nation is so execrable that one is compelled to fight, as have been +the Germans, that we make war. + +BOURGEOIS. You do not love war, eh? Before the war you had a very +small Army, about three hundred thousand, is it not so? And now you +have about three million. You do not love war, you others. + +SUBALTERN. The Germans thought that they loved war, but I do not +believe that they will love it very much longer! + +BOURGEOIS. No! The war will give them the stomach-ache. They will love +it no longer! + +COIFFEUR. But these English, whom did they fight before? The Boers, +was it not? + +SUBALTERN. Yes, but a great many English think now that it was a +_bêtise_. There was also great provocation. And nevertheless, who +knows if there was not in that affair also a German plot? + +BOURGEOIS. It is very likely. Then Monsieur thinks that we are true +friends, the English and the French? + +SUBALTERN. But yes, Monsieur, because we love, both of us, liberty and +peace. + + + + +XIV + +A PASSING IN JUNE, 1915 + + +PROLOGUE + + SCENE. _The parlour of an Auberge._ + + PERSONS. _A stoist motherly_ MADAME, _a wrinkled fatherly_ + MONSIEUR, _and a plain but pleasant_ MA'MSELLE. _Some English + soldiers drinking_. CECIL _is talking in French to_ MONSIEUR, + _and they are all very friendly_. + +MADAME. Alors, vous n'avez pas encore été aux tranchées? + +CECIL. Mais non, Madame, peut-être ce soir. + +(MONSIEUR _and_ MADAME _exchange glances_. CECIL _rises to go._) + +CECIL. À Jeudi, Monsieur, Madame, Ma'mselle. + +MONSIEUR, MADAME, AND MA'MSELLE (_in chorus_). À Jeudi, Monsieur. + +MADAME (_earnestly_). Bon courage, Monsieur! + + (_Curtain_) + + +ACT I. DAWN + + CECIL _is discovered lying behind a wall of sandbags. On one + side are the sandbags, and on the other an idyllic spring scene, + with flowers and orchards seen in the half-light of a spring + morning. The dawn breaks gently, and soon bullets begin to ping + through the air, flattening themselves against the sandbags, or + passing over_ CECIL's _head. He wakes and yawns, and then + composes himself with his eyes open._ + + _Enter Allegorical personages_: FATHER SUN, MOTHER EARTH, _and + a chorus of_ GRASSES, POPPIES, CORNFLOWERS, RAGGED ROBINS, + DAISIES, BEETLES, BEES, FLIES, _and insects of all kinds._ + +FATHER SUN. + + Wake, children, rub your eyes, + Up and dance and sing and play, + Not a cloud is in the skies; + This is going to be _my_ day. + See the tiny dew-drop glisten + In my glancing golden ray; + See the shadows dancing, listen + To the lark so blithe and gay. + Up, children, dance and play, + This is my own festal day. + +FLOWERS, BEETLES, ETC. + + Dance and sing + In a ring, + Naughty clouds are chased away; + Oh what fun, + Father Sun + Is going to shine the whole long day. + +MOTHER EARTH. That's right, children. This is the day to grow in; but +don't forget to come home to dinner; I've got such a nice dinner for +you. + + (_The children dance away delightedly, while CECIL watches + them, fascinated._) + +MOTHER EARTH. What's this absurd young man doing, sitting behind that +ugly wall? Why don't he sit under a tree if he must sit? + +FATHER SUN. Oh, he's a lunatic! Must be. + + (RANDOM BULLET _jumps over the sandbags into the dug-out, and + jibbers impotently at_ CECIL, _who glances up at him with a + look of disgust._) + +RANDOM BULLET. Ping! Ping. It's me he's afraid of. He daren't stir a +yard from this wall, or I'd tear his brains out. Ping! Ping! + +MOTHER EARTH. Who are you, Monster? + +RANDOM BULLET. I'm Random Bullet. I _am_ a monster, I am! Ping! + +MOTHER EARTH. Who sent you, anyway? + +RANDOM BULLET. Why, the idiots behind the other wall, over there! +Sometimes I jump at them, and sometimes I jump over here. I don't care +which way it is; but I like tearing their brains out, I do. I don't +care which lot it is. + +MOTHER EARTH. What madness! + +FATHER SUN (_indignantly_). On my day too! + +RANDOM BULLET. Mad! I should think they were! Never mind, they give me +some fun! Ping! So long, I'm off, going to jump at the other fellows, +back in a second if you like to wait. + + (RANDOM BULLET _jumps out of sight, and_ MOTHER EARTH _and_ + FATHER SUN _move disgustedly away._) + +CECIL (_getting up_). Mad! By God, we are mad! Curse the war! Curse +the fools who started it! Why did I ever come out here? What a way to +spend a morning in June! + + (_Curtain._) + + +ACT II. MIDDAY + + SCENE. _The same._ CECIL _as before, but sweltering in the + sun. Enter the_ SPIRIT OF THIRST. + +THIRST. Oh for a drink! Water, anything! I could drink a bath full. +What a place to spend a June day in! When one thinks of all the drinks +one might be having, it is really infuriating. Gad! The very thought +of 'em makes me feel quite poetic! Think of the great barrels of still +cider in cool Devonshire cellars! Think of the sour refreshing wine +we used to get in Italy! And the iced cocktails of Colombo! And Pimm's +No. 1 in the City. Anywhere but here it's a pleasure to be a Thirst; +but here! Good Lord, it will send me off my head. How would a bath +go now, old chap? By God, don't you wish you were back in your canoe, +drawn up among the rushes near Islip, and you just going to plunge +into the cool waters of the Char? Or think of that day you bathed in +the deep still pool at the foot of the Tamarin Falls, with the water +crashing down above you, into the deep shady chasm. Even a dip in the +sea at Mount Lavinia wouldn't be bad now,--or, better still, a dive +into Como from a rowboat; you remember that hot summer we went to +Como? I'll tell you another thing that wouldn't go down badly either. +Do you remember a great bowl of strawberries and cream with a huge +ice in it, that you had the day before you left school, after that hot +bike ride to Leamington? Not bad, was it? + +CECIL (_fiercely_). Shut up, you beast! Oh, curse this idiotic war! +Why are we such fools? + + (_Curtain._) + + +ACT III. LATE AFTERNOON + + SCENE. _As before._ CECIL _is discovered reading a letter from + home._ + +CECIL (_to himself_). Tom dead. Good Lord! What times we have had +together! Where are all the good fellows I used to know? Half of them +dead, and the rest condemned to die! No more yachting on the broads! +No more convivial evenings at the Troc.! No more long nights spinning +yarns in Tom's old rooms in the Temple! Curse this blasted war that +robs one of everything worth having, that dulls every sense of decency +and kills all feeling for beauty, destroys the joy of life, and +mutilates one's dearest friends. Curse it! + + (_A sound as of an express train is heard, followed by the + roar of an explosion, while a dense cloud of smoke and dust + rises immediately in view of the trench._) + +PORTENTOUS VOICE. Prepare to face eternity! + +CECIL (_clenching his fists_). Beast, loathsome beast! Don't think I +am afraid of you. + + (_The sounds are repeated as a second shell drops, rather + nearer. A Shadow appears round the dug-out, and hesitates._) + +CECIL (_to the Shadow_). Who is that? Is that the Shadow of Fear? + +A THIN, QUAVERING VOICE. Yes, shall I come in? + +CECIL (_furiously_). Out of my sight, vile, cringing wretch! Not even +your shadow will I tolerate in my presence! + + (_A third shell bursts nearer still._) + +PORTENTOUS VOICE (_thunderously_). Set not your affections on things +below. + + (CECIL _pauses in a listening attitude_). + +CECIL (_more quietly, and with a new look in his eyes_). I think I +have forgotten something,--something rather important. + + (_Enter the twin Spirits of_ HONOUR _and_ DUTY, _Spirits of a + very noble and courtly mien._) + +CECIL (_simply and humbly_). Gentlemen, to my sorrow and loss I had +forgotten you. You are doubly welcome. + +THE SPIRIT OF DUTY. Young sir, we thank you. After all, it is but +right that in this hour of danger and dismay we should be with you. + +THE SPIRIT OF HONOUR. I am so old a friend of you and yours, Cecil, +that you may surely trust me. I was your father's friend. Side by +side we stood in every crisis of his varied life. Together faced the +Dervish rush at Abu Klea, and afterwards in India took our part +in many a desperate unnamed frontier tussle. I helped him woo your +mother, spoke for him when he put up for Parliament, advised him when +he visited the city. In fact, I was his companion all through life, +and I stood beside his bed at death. + +THE SPIRIT OF DUTY. I too may claim to have been as much your father's +friend as was my brother. Indeed, where one is, the other is never far +away. We do agree most wonderfully, and since our birth, no quarrel +has ever disturbed the harmony of our ways. + +CECIL. Gentlemen, you have recalled me to myself. I had forgotten that +I was no more a child. I wanted to dance in the sun with the flowers, +and sing with the birds, to swim in the pool with yonder newt, and +lie down to dry in the long meadow grass among the poppies. Because I +might not do this and other things as fond and foolish, I was petulant +and peevish, like a spoilt child. I look to you, gentlemen, to help me +to be a man, and play a man's part in the world. + +HONOUR. We will remain at hand, call us when you need us, we shall not +fail you. + + (_The bombardment increases in intensity. Shrapnel bursts + overhead. Shells with increasing rapidity and accuracy + explode both short and over the trench. The hail of bullets is + continuous. An N.C.O. rushes by shouting "Stand to"; men rush + from the dug-outs and seize their rifles_; CECIL, _like the + others, grasps his rifle and sees that it is fully loaded._) + + (_Curtain._) + + +ACT IV. SUNSET + + SCENE. _The same, but the wall of sand-bags_ _bags is broken + in many places. The dead lie half-buried beneath them._ CECIL + _lies, badly wounded, against a gap in the wall, his rifle + by his side._ HONOUR _and_ DUTY _kneel beside him tenderly. + The last rays of the sun light up his painful smile._ THIRST + _stands gloomily over him, and the wild flowers are peeping + at him with sleepy eyes through the gap, while_ MOTHER EARTH + _calls to them to go to bed._ FATHER SUN _leans sadly over the + broken parapet._ + +CECIL (_slowly and with difficulty_). Honour, Duty, I thank you. You +did not fail me. + +HONOUR. You played the man, Cecil, as your father did before you. + +DUTY. Your example it was that steadied your comrades, and kept craven +fear at a distance. You saved the trench. + +HONOUR. This is the beauty of manhood, to die for a good cause. There +is no fairer thing in all God's world. + +CECIL. I thank you. Good-night, Sun; good-night, Mother Earth. Think +kindly of me. I don't think I was mad after all. + +SUN. Good-night, brave lad. (_To_ MOTHER EARTH) I can hardly bear to +look on so sad a sight. + +CECIL. Good-night, Ragged Robins; good-night, Poppies. You have +played your game, and I mine. Only they are different because we are +different. + +CHORUS OF FLOWERS. Good-night, dear Cecil. We are so very sorry that +you are hurt. + + (_Enter the_ MASTER, _flowers shyly following him._ HONOUR + _and_ DUTY _raise_ CECIL _gently to a standing position._) + +THE MASTER (_extending his arms with a loving smile_). "Well done, +good and faithful servant. Enter thou into the joy of thy Lord." + + (CECIL, _with a look of wonder and joy, is borne forward._) + + (_Curtain._) + + + + +XV + +MY HOME AND SCHOOL[3] + +A FRAGMENT OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY + +I + +MY HOME + +What is one to say of home? It is difficult to know. I find that +biographers are particular about the date of birth, the exact address +of the babe, the social position and ancestry of the parent. I suppose +that it is all that they can learn. But as an autobiographer I want +to do something better; to give a picture of the home where, as I +can now see, ideals, tastes, prejudices and habits were formed which +have persisted through all the internal revolutions that have since +upheaved my being. + +[Footnote 3: "A Student" left a great deal of manuscript, among which +this fragment of autobiography is not the least interesting.] + +I try to form the picture in my mind, and a crowd of detail rushes +in which completely destroys its simplicity and harmony. How hard it +is to judge, even at this distance, what are the salient features. +I must try, but I know that from the point of view of psychological +development I may easily miss out the very factors which were really +most important. + +I remember a big house, in a row of other big houses, in a side street +leading from the East Cliff at Brighton right up to the edge of the +bare rolling downs. It was exactly like almost every other house +in that part of Brighton--stucco fronted, with four stories and a +basement, three windows in front on each of the upper stories, and two +windows and a door on the ground floor and basement. At the back was +a small garden, with flower beds surrounding a square of gravel, and +a tricycle house in one corner. There was a back door in this garden, +which gave on to a street of cottages. This back door was a point of +strategic importance. + +But I need not describe the house in detail. It was exactly like +thousands of other houses built in the beginning of the nineteenth +century. High, respectable, ugly and rather inconvenient, with many +stairs, two or three big rooms, a lot of small ones and no bathroom. +It was essentially a family house, intended for people of moderate +means and large families. Nowadays they build houses which are +prettier, and have bathrooms; but they are not meant for large +families. + +We were a large family, and a fairly noisy one. Moreover, we were +singularly self-sufficing. We hadn't many friends, we didn't entertain +much, we had dinner in the middle of the day, and supper in the +evening. + +There was my father who was a recluse, my mother who was essentially +our mother, the two girls and four boys. I was an afterthought, being +seven years younger than my next brother, who for seven years had +been called B. (for baby), and couldn't escape from it even after my +appearance. + +In addition to these, B. and I both had inseparable friends, who lived +within a stone's throw. Ronnie was my _alter ego_ till I was fourteen: +so much so that I had no other friend. Even now, though our ways +have kept us apart, and our interests and opinions are fundamentally +different, we can sit in each other's rooms with perfect content. We +know too much of each other for it to be possible to pretend to be +what we are not. We sit and are ourselves, naked and unashamed so to +speak, and it is very restful. + +Pictures float before my mind. Let me select a few. I see a rather +fat, stolid little boy in a big airy nursery at the top of the house, +sitting in the middle of the floor playing with bricks. Outside it is +gusty and wet, and the small boy hopes that he will be allowed to stay +in all the afternoon, and play with bricks. But that is not to be. A +small thin man, with gentle grey eyes, short curly beard, an old black +greatcoat and a black square felt hat, comes in. The child must have +some air. The child is resentful, but resigned, is wrapped up well, +put in his pram and wheeled up and down the Madeira Road. + +"Pa" didn't appear very much except on some such errand; but "Ma" was +in and out all the time. "Ma" was everything, the only woman who has +ever had my whole love, my whole trust and has made my heart ache with +the desire to show my love. + +A later picture. The boy is bigger, and not so fat. He no longer has +a nurse. He has vacated the nursery, which is now tenanted by his big +sisters. He has a little room all his own: a very small room, looking +west. The south-west gales beat upon the window in the winter, and not +so far away is the roar of the sea. It is good to curl up in a nice +warm little bed, and listen to the howling of the wind and the waves. + +In the morning come lessons from his eldest sister G. The schoolroom +has rings and a trapeze, a bookshelf full of boys' books, and +cupboards full of stone bricks, cannon and soldiers. The boy's mind +is set on bricks and soldiers. Lessons and walks with "Ma" and his +sisters or Ronnie and his nurse down the town are a nuisance. They +interfere with the building of cathedrals and the settling of the +destinies of nations by the arbitrament of war. + +It was a stolid, placid boy, intensely wrapt up in his cathedrals and +his generals, intensely devoted to "Ma," and regarding all else as +rather a nuisance. Ronnie he liked. He liked going to tea with him, +and going walks with him and his nurse; but they didn't have much +in common except cricket. Ronnie had big soldiers which could not be +knocked down by cannon balls, and which couldn't make history because +they were few in number, and nearly all English. Mine were of every +European power, and many Asiatic ones. They were diminutive and +numerous, could take shelter in a forest of pine cones and were +admirably suited to be mown down at the cannon's mouth. The King of +England was a person with a fine figure. He had one leg and one arm, +and the plume of his dragoon's helmet was shorn off; but his slight, +erect figure still looked noble on a stately white palfrey. The French +armies were usually commanded by Marshal Petit, a gay fellow with +his full complement of limbs, who sat a horse well. He had a younger +brother almost equally distinguished. I have no recollection of a King +of France. He must have been a poor fellow. The Sultan of Turkey, +the Khedive, and Li Hung Chang still live in my memory as persons of +distinction; but I have no personal recollection of the Tsar, or the +Emperors of Germany or Austria, or of the King of Italy, though I know +they existed. + +Into this placid existence turmoil would enter three times a year. The +elder brothers, Hugh, Tommy and B., would come home for the holidays +from Sandhurst and Rugby, and R. would appear, and become almost one +of the family. Then would occur troublous times, with a few advantages +and many disadvantages. + +"Tommy" was a curiously solitary youth as I remember him, who played +the 'cello with great perseverance and considerable success. At +soldiers he was something of a genius, though his games were of an +intricacy which failed to commend itself to me altogether. In his +great soldier days he not only made history, but wrote it--a height to +which I never attained. + +In the holidays, cricket in the back garden became a great feature, +and Tommy was a demon bowler. I fancy, too, that the very elaborate +but highly satisfactory form of the game must have originated with +him. In the back garden we not merely played cricket, but made +history--cricket history. Two county sides were written out, and +we batted alternately for the various cricketers, doing our best +to imitate their styles. We bowled also in a rough imitation of the +styles of the county bowlers whom we represented. This arrangement +secured us against personal rivalry, kept up a tremendous interest in +first-class cricket and enabled matches to continue, if necessary, +for weeks at a time. It encouraged, too, a fair, impersonal and +unprejudiced view of outside events. + +In cricket, war and music we undoubtedly benefited by the holidays, +especially in the summer, when we used to go to the country, often +occupying a school-house with gym, cricket nets and a fair-sized +garden. Ecclesiastical architecture suffered, however.... + +Hugh was a great and glorious person, a towering beneficent despot +when he did appear.... As for me I adored him with whole-hearted +hero-worship. He was the "protector of the poor," who kept the rest of +us in order. He was a magnificent person who revolutionized the art +of war by the introduction of explosives. He was a tremendous walker, +and first taught me to love great tramps over the downs, to sniff +appreciatively the glorious air and to love their bare, storm-swept +outlines. Hugh stood for all that is wholesome, strenuous, out of +doors in my life. Without him I should have been a mere sedentary. +Among other things he was an enthusiastic boxer and gymnast. For these +pursuits I sturdily feigned enthusiasm and suppressed timidity. + +A few more pictures. First, Sunday morning. Gertrude goes off to +Sunday School. She likes teaching and bossing. Hilda and Hugh, who +are greater pals than brother and sister can often be, go off to St. +James', where there will be good music and an interesting sermon. +Tommy goes to St. Mark's, a good Protestant place, or to the beach, +where curious and recondite doctrines are weekly disputed. B. goes to +St. George's, protesting. There is plenty of room for his hat, there +is a congenially aggressive spirit against Rome and it slightly +irritates Ma. Pa is not up yet. Ma and I go to All Souls', because it +is the nearest poor church, and Ma finds it easier to worship where +there are no pew rents, and the seats are uncushioned, and there are +few rich people. I am ever loyal to Ma. + +I often wonder whether the reason why my family are all Churchgoers +now is not that at that time we could choose our church. + +The next picture is Sunday night. "Pa" and I, and perhaps some of +the other boys, set out for St. Paul's, at the other end of the town. +Then, after the service, follows an immense walk all through the slums +of the town. We talk of Australia, where Pa once had a sheep run; of +theology, of the past and the future. This weekly walk is something of +a privilege, and rather solemn. It makes me feel older. + +It is spring. I am at Rugby, and in the "San" with ophthalmia. The +South African war is raging. Hugh is there. I am told that Hugh is +dead. He has been shot in a glorious but futile charge at Paardeberg. +I can't realize it. I am an object of interest, of envy almost, to the +whole school. The flag is half-mast because my brother is dead. Every +one is kind, touched. I put on an air as of a martyr. + +I get a heartbroken letter from my mother. Will I come home? Or hadn't +I better go to Uncle Jack's? If I go home we shall make each other +worse. It is better for me than for Maurice, who is with the fleet in +the Mediterranean with no one to comfort him. + +Ma has had a great shock. She feels it desperately. She thinks all +the others feel it as much. Except Hilda, we don't. There is a huge +piece taken out of Ma's life and Hilda's life, because they were so +unselfishly devoted to Hugh. Pa, also, has lost much, but he is a +philosopher. + +I go to Uncle Jack's and shoot rabbits. The holidays come and go. +Tommy is at Oxford; I am at Rugby. Pa is immersed in theological +speculation about the next world; B. is in the Mediterranean. Ma sends +Gertrude and Hilda away for a long change. They go, and come back. +Something about Ma frightens them. She and Pa come near Rugby and stay +with Uncle Jack. The holidays come. I learn that for the first time +for about twenty years Ma is to go away without Pa. I am to meet her +at Hereford, and we are to go to Wales. Ma forgets things. She is more +loving than ever, but her memory is going. We go to communion together +in the little village church. + +A few weeks later. We are back in Brighton. An Australian uncle and +family are staying with us. Ma is ill in bed. I get up at 6 A.M., +tramp over the downs and in a place I wot of, some five miles away, +I gather heather for Ma. I run. I get back by 8.30. I find my uncle +and cousins getting into a cab. Some one says, "How lovely! Are these +for me?" I grip them in despair. They are for Ma. "Quite right," says +someone. A day or two later my heather was placed, still blooming, on +Ma's grave. + +I was sixteen then. Six years later I return home from abroad. Within +a few weeks of my return I am sitting in Pa's room in agony, listening +to him fight for breath. The fight at last weakens. I hear him +whisper, "Help! help!" I set my teeth. The others come in. There +is silence. All is over. I am given my father's ring. It is my most +treasured possession. + +Henceforth all I have left of home is Hilda, for she alone is +unmarried. Ever since my mother's death she has been my confidante. +As far as was possible she has taken Ma's place in my life, and I have +taken Hugh's place in hers. We are substitutes. For that reason as +we get older we get to know each other better, and to know better how +much we can give to each other. There is more criticism between us +than there would have been between Ma and me, and Hilda and Hugh. But +it has its advantages. We live apart, but we correspond weekly, and +holiday together. It is all that is left of home, and it is infinitely +precious. + +Now that I have written these pages I can see as I have never seen +before how much the child was father of the man. Since those home days +I have had more variety of experience perhaps than falls to the lot +of most men, and I would almost say more varied and more epoch-making +friendships. Yet in these pages that I have written I seem to see all +the essential and salient features of my character already mirrored +and formed. + +I am still by nature lethargic and placid. I could still occupy myself +contentedly With bricks and soldiers, art and history, and trouble +no one. But there is still that other element, instilled by Hugh--a +love of the open air, of struggle with the elements, in lonely desert +places. + +I have never lost the craving for true religion, which induced my +mother to go to a poor church to worship, and to visit the drunken +and helpless in their slums. I have never lost the desire for her +singleness of mind, and simple loyalty to Christ and His Church. At +the same time I have never lost my father's inquiring spirit, broad +view, love of doctrine tempered by reason and founded on history and +tested by human experience. When these two beloved ones passed from +this world I learnt the meaning of the text, "Where your treasure is, +there will your heart be also." My heart has never been wholly in this +world. + +So, too, I have always been a man of few friends. Ronnie has had many +successors; but seldom more than one at a time. I have never cared +much for society. My father and mother neither of them attached much +importance to conventions, or to the fictitious values which society +puts on clothes or money or position. I have always looked rather +for some one to admire, some one whose ideals and personality were +congenial, whatever their position or occupation. I have also, on the +whole, always preferred comfort to show, simple to elaborate living. +This I trace to the simple comfort and naturalness of my old home. + + +II + +SCHOOL + +I went to a day school kept by Ronnie's father when I was nine. +At least, it was a day school for me; but nearly all the boys +were boarders. I worked fairly hard, and got prizes. I was fairly +good at cricket, and not much good at football. I had only one +friend--Ronnie--and about two enemies, both of whom were day boys, and +whom I should have liked to have fought if I had dared. My memories +of the school are few. I best remember leaving home, and going +back, and also playing cricket. Ronnie's father lives as a just and +straightforward gentleman, who never caned a boy except for what was +mean or dirty, and whom we all loved and respected. But then I have +known and loved him and his wife all my life. If our house was a +second home to Ronnie, theirs has always been a second home to me. + +There was one master whom I liked, and who perhaps did something to +develop my character. He was fond of poetry and history, and from him +I learnt--an easy lesson for me--to love history; but what is more, he +first gave me a glimmering idea, which was to develop long after, that +the classics are literature, and not torture. + +I left there to go to Rugby. + +Never did a boy enter Rugby with better chances. The memory of +my three brothers still lived in the house. They had all achieved +distinction in games, and been leading prefects (or sixths as they +are called at Rugby) in the house. Many masters remembered them for +good, particularly Jacky, the housemaster, who had loved them all, +especially Hugh. + +In addition to this, one of the leading fellows in the house, who was +afterwards to be captain of the school fifteen and cricket eleven, +lieutenant in the corps, and one of the racquet pair, had been at my +private school. I shared a study with another fellow who had been at +my private school. Two boys accompanied me from there, one of whom was +my next best friend to Ronnie. His parents were in India, and he had +spent some of his holidays with Ronnie and me. + +But though I loved Rugby and was happy there, I can't say I was a +success. I made few friends, who have since, with one exception, +drifted out of my life. I was too timid to enjoy Rugger. I never +achieved distinction at cricket. I got into the sixth my last term, +but hadn't the force of character to enjoy the prefectural powers +which that fact conferred upon me. The fact is that I left when I was +16, and it is between 16 and 18 that the full enjoyment of school life +comes and boys reap the harvest they have sown. Had I stayed another +year I should have belonged to the leading generation, strengthened +my friendships and developed what was latent in my character. As it +was, I left at an unfortunate age. I was pushed into the sixth a year +before my contemporaries. My friendships were only half formed, and +I had only just begun to feel strength of body and mind developing in +me. + +As a junior I was too conscientious, and not light-hearted enough. +I hardly had any adventures at Rugby, because I had an incurable +instinct for keeping rules. I worked hard at mathematics and French, +and my report generally read, "Good ability. Might exert himself +more." At classics and chemistry I did as little work as possible, +and any report generally read, "Hard-working but not bright." + +On the whole I think I was pretty happy at Rugby; but I never look +back to my school days as the happiest part of my life. I have had +many happier times since. But still, my house was a good one. Jacky, +the housemaster, was wonderfully kind and wise. He hardly ever +interfered with the affairs of the house, but left it all--in +appearance--to the "Sixths." Actually, nothing escaped him. The tone +of the house was on the whole extraordinarily clean and wholesome, +and the fellows who had dirty minds were a small minority, and easily +avoided. At all events, very little of that sort of thing reached me. + +At sixteen and a half I went to the Royal Military Academy at +Woolwich, commonly known as "the Shop." There I spent the two +most miserable years of my life, and made the second of my great +friendships. In these days the Shop was still a pretty rough place, +and at the moment it was unusually full. I think there were over 300 +fellows there altogether, and there were about 70 in my term. My first +experience was unfortunate. I was interviewing the Adjutant, a keen +sportsman and a bit of a tartar. He eyed me unfavourably, asked what +games I could play, and when I replied that I had no great proficiency +in any he commented, "Humph, a good-for-nothing!" and dismissed me. + +I am by nature slow, stolid and clumsy. I was bad at being "smart"; +I was slow and clumsy at drill; map making and geometrical drawing +were physical impossibilities to me; I was incredibly slow and stupid +at machinery, mechanism and electricity. The only subject which +interested me was military history. In my first term I dropped from +about forty-fourth to about seventieth in my class, and I kept near +the bottom until my fourth term, when I failed in my electricity +exam., and had to stay one term more. In the same term I received a +prize for the best essay on the lessons of the South African War. + +Oh, the misery of those terms at Woolwich! I hated the work, the +drill, the gym and even the riding school. I hated the officers, and +above all I hated the spirit of the place. As far as I remember, +the one eternal topic of conversation and subject of "wit" was the +sexual relation. Of course the boys had never been taught sensibly +anything about it. Consequently the place was continually circulated +with filthy books, pictures, stories, etc. When I went there I was +extraordinarily innocent, and devoid of curiosity. I had been recently +the more disposed to purity through the death of my mother. At +Woolwich I remained extraordinarily innocent and uncurious, letting +the poisonous stream flow continually by me, shrinking from its +stench, and finding more and more relief in my own company. I must +have been a very unpleasant person at that time. + +One friend I had. He was a small, compact, keen, and capable little +Rugbian named F----. He was like me in that he had recently lost his +parents, and was interested in religion and philosophy in a boyish +way. Unlike me he rather enjoyed Woolwich. He had a lot of friends, +was keen on riding and on a good deal of the work, and generally +speaking plunged into life, taking the rough with the smooth, and +both in good part. Although we have drifted far apart in ideals and +sympathies, and though misunderstanding has come in and destroyed our +friendship, I shall never cease to be grateful for all that F---- +did for me in those days. He routed me out when I was in the blues, +laughed at me, cheered me up and made me look at life with new eyes. +Moreover he did this, as I know, in defiance of the set with whom he +was friendly, who despised me for a milksop, and were at no pains to +conceal the fact. But for F----, my life at the Shop would have been +intolerable. + +Besides him, I had a few associates, boys with whom I naturally +associated for the simple reason that they, too, were left out of the +main current of the life of the place. But they were not particularly +congenial. One or two were hard workers. One was a great slacker, and +more timid, physically and morally, than even I. He was a boy with a +fatal facility for doing useless things moderately well, especially in +the musical line. He was even more frightened of gym and horses than +I was, and unlike me was not ashamed to show it. If the Shop was +purgatory to me, it must have been hell to him. + +My happiest times were week-ends spent at home. I used to arrive on +Saturday evening and leave on Sunday evening. About now I began to +get to know my father much better, and to develop my theological bent +under his advice. In my disillusionment as to my capacity for military +life I began to wish I had chosen the clerical profession. I think my +father had the shrewdness to see that failure in one profession was +not necessarily the sign of a "call" in another direction. Anyway, he +did not discourage me; but spoke of five years in the Army as the best +training for a parson. + +I remember avowing my intention of becoming a parson to one of my more +friendly acquaintances at the Shop, and he replied that I wouldn't set +the Thames on fire, because I had such a monotonous voice. + +In spite of seeking relief from my uncongenial surroundings in +religion and theology, I did not join myself to any one else. There +was a so-called "Pi Squad," or Bible class, held weekly, but I only +went once, and didn't like it. I was always peculiarly sensitive about +priggishness in those who professed themselves to be religious openly, +and generally thought I detected priggishness in any "Bible circle" +or similar institution that I came across. I think my theology +mainly consisted in speculations about the future state--I remember +I emphatically declined to believe in hell--and my religion consisted +mainly in fairly regular attendance at Matins and Communion. + +Another effect of the intensity with which I hated my surroundings was +that I read a lot of good novels--George Eliot, the Brontës, Scott, +Dickens, Jane Austen, Thackeray, Besant, etc. A book which I read +over and over again was Arthur Benson's _Hill of Trouble, and other +Stories_. Those legends, with their imaginative setting, charm of +language and beautiful religious ideas were more restful to my unquiet +spirit than anything else I read. + +The actual conditions of life at the Shop were pretty barbaric. The +aim was to make it as much like barracks as possible. Each term was +housed in a different side of the square of buildings which form the +Academy, and the fourth term were spread among the houses of the other +terms as corporals. My first term I shared a room with three other +fellows. I think it was the ugliest room I have ever lived in, without +exception. It had high whitewashed brick walls. In each corner was +a bed which folded up against the wall in the day time, and was +concealed by a square of print curtains. There were a deal table, four +windsor chairs, a shelf with four basins, and a cupboard with four +lockers. All the woodwork was painted khaki. The contrast with the +little study at Rugby, with its diamond-paned window, its matchboard +panelling surmounted by a paper of one's own choosing, its ledge +for photos and ornaments ("bim ledge" so called), its eggshell blue +cupboards, baize curtains and window box, was striking. + +It used to be the custom to go to and from the bathroom attired in a +sponge, in connexion with which an amusing incident once happened. + +A cadet in his second year was on the bathroom landing, when he +perceived that the mother and sisters of another cadet were coming +upstairs. From sounds in the bathroom he realized that they would +meet a naked corporal just as they reached the landing. The door of +the bathroom opened outwards, and with admirable presence of mind +he rushed back, and putting his back against the door and his feet +against the wall, imprisoned the corporal. The corporal, in the +approved Shop version of Billingsgate, began to blaspheme at the top +of his voice, so when the ladies reached the top of the stairs they +saw a vision of a cadet with his feet to the wall and his back to a +door singing at the top of his voice to drown a Commotion within! + +On another occasion in my second year, when I was sharing a room +with one other fellow, I had a sister to tea. On arriving in my room +I found that my stablemate had been playing hockey, and was at the +moment in the bathroom, having thoughtlessly left all his clothes in +the room--mostly on the floor. + +On the last day of my first term the corporals and officers were all +absent at a farewell dinner to the former, and we received information +that the third term were going to raid our house, with a view to +"toshing" us in a cold bath. We therefore prepared for action. Every +receptacle which would hold water was taken to the upper landing, +full. Then all the chairs in the house were roped together, and +placed on the stairs as an obstacle. The defenders then took up their +position at the windows and at the top of the stairs. In due course +the enemy's forces arrived, and stormed the stairs, under a heavy fire +of water. The obstacle was at length destroyed, and a solid phalanx +of wet bodies swarmed up the stairs. We formed a similar phalanx +and charged to meet them. I happened to be first, and much to my +discomfiture the enemy's phalanx parted in the middle, and I was +rapidly passed down the stairs--a prisoner! Fortunately at the bottom +I found a relieving party from the next house, making a diversion on +the enemy's rear. With great valour we dragged down a foe, and toshed +him in the bath that had been made ready for us. "The tosher toshed!" + +The next day we surveyed the damage. All the chairs and banisters were +broken, the whitewash was rubbed off the bricks by wet shoulders +and nearly all the basins were broken. That day was the day of Lord +Roberts's half-yearly inspection! + +There was not such another battle until my third term, when we +were the aggressors. This time the damage was even greater, for the +defenders let down tables across the stairs as an obstacle, and we +battered our way through with scaffolding poles. There were some +casualties that day, owing to an indiscriminate use of mop handles. + +On the day of Lord Roberts's inspection we had to change from parade +dress to gym dress, and it was during the change that Lord Roberts +inspected our quarters. He went into one room and found a fellow just +half-way through his change--with nothing at all on! The room was +called to attention, and with great presence of mind the boy dashed +into the bed curtains and stood to attention there, while Lord Roberts +had an animated conversation with him! + +There were jolly moments in the life at the Shop. On Saturdays, after +dinner, the unfortunates who had not got away for the week-end used to +have "stodges" after dinner. Having put away a substantial dinner, we +changed into flannels, and used to crowd into some one's room, and eat +muffins and smoke cigars. I remember one night there were eighteen of +us in one small room. + +In order to go away for a week-end one had to obtain (1) an +invitation, (2) permission from parent or guardian to accept the +invitation. One week my brother, who was working at the Admiralty, +offered his flat to myself and F----, as he was going to Brighton +himself. Fleming wrote to his guardian--a Scotsman--for permission +to stay with Captain Hankey. The guardian wrote back for more +information. He saw by the Army List that Captain Hankey existed, but +who were the Hankeys? etc., etc. F---- wrote back a furious letter, +saying that he expected to have his friends accepted without question, +and received the permission. We went. The awkward thing was that +Captain Hankey was not there, and we shuddered to think of the rage of +F----'s guardian if he should find out. Worse still, the guardian was +supposed to be staying at the Oriental Club in Hanover Square, and my +brother's flat was in Oxford Street! However, we didn't meet. + +F---- and I neither of us knew London, and had the time of our lives. +We dined at Frascati's--a palace of splendour in our eyes--and went to +His Majesty's to see Beerbohm Tree in Ulysses. When it came to Hades, +we held each other's hands! On Sunday we went to St. Peter's, Vere +Street, but were so furious at being kept waiting for pew holders +long after service had commenced, that we went on to the Audley Street +Chapel, a most queer little place. It was full of monuments to the +dependents of peers, in which the peers figured very largely and +the dependents fared humbly--the epitome of flunkeydom. Among these +tablets was one inscribed-- + + "To John Wilkes, + Friend of Liberty." + +Truly refreshing! + +We finished the day at some old friends of mine, and voted the +week-end a huge success. + +When I went to Woolwich I was just on the verge of getting keen +on games and beginning to feel self-confident, and to enjoy the +fellowship of my comrades. Woolwich nipped this in the bud. I left +with no self-confidence, having renounced games, and with a sense +of solitariness among my comrades. I was a misanthrope, and the +unhappiest sort of egotist--the kind that dislikes himself. To say +the truth, too, I was then, and always have been, a bit of a funk, +physically, which didn't make me happier. On the other hand, I was an +omnivorous reader of everything which did not concern my profession, +and a dabbler in military history. + +I have sometimes thought that I was unconsciously a bit of a hero at +Woolwich, standing out for purity and religion in an atmosphere of +filth and blasphemy. I have come to the conclusion, however, that +there was nothing in this. As to the general atmosphere, there is +no doubt that it was singularly pernicious; even the officers and +instructors contributed their quota of filthy jokes, and there was no +religious instruction or influence at all except the parade service at +the garrison church on Sunday, if one happened not to be on leave. But +as to my heroism I am reluctantly compelled to be sceptical. I went +as far as I felt my inclination, and stopped after a time because +instinct was too strong the other way. + +As I have said before, I have always had an insurmountable instinct +for keeping rules. At school I could never bring myself to transgress, +although I knew that transgression was the road to adventure. So +at the Shop, however much I may have wished to be in the swim, my +instinct for the moral and religious code of home was too strong for +me. It required no self-control to prevent myself from slipping into +blasphemy and filth. On the contrary, in order to do so I should have +had to violate my strongest instincts, and exercised a will to evil +much stronger than any will power that I possessed at that time. If, +when I left Woolwich, I was comparatively pure, it was because nature +did not allow me to be anything else. + +To say the truth, I have never felt the sway of passions to anything +like the same extent as most men seem to. I have never cared for the +society of women for its sexual attraction. Consequently all my women +friends have been just the same to me as my men friends--friends whom +I could talk to about the things that interested me. + +I don't boast of this, I only state the fact. I am not proud of it +because I know that some passion is necessary to make heroes and even +saints. + + + + +SOME NOTES ON THE FRAGMENT OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY BY "HILDA" + + +I have before me as I write a pencil sketch, limned with considerable +care, of a rather disagreeable looking young man, and beneath it is +written-- + + "D.W.A.H., by Himself." + +It is a profile. The eye has almost disappeared under the brow, the +mouth is tightly closed to a degree that is quite unpleasant and there +is a deliberate exaggeration of a slight defect he actually had--a +tendency for the lower jaw to protrude a little. This little defect +hardly any of his friends seem to have noticed, for most of them +execrate it as a libel in the otherwise admittedly beautiful +photograph at the beginning of this volume. The expression in the +sketch is above all--dubious. + +So did Donald see himself. + +For the rest of us no doubt the lessons Mr. Haselden has for us in his +caricatures, "ourselves as we see ourselves" and "as others see us," +are necessary. But not for Donald. The drawing is pasted into an album +which contains mainly Oxford College groups, and there is a certain +unpleasant resemblance between it and his full face presentment in one +of the groups--in which he has "the group expression" rather badly. +Assuming it to have been drawn at Oxford, or not very long after he +left, I think it must belong very nearly to a time when he was going +off abroad on one of his long trips, and I had the sympathy of a +dear old lady friend of ours on having to part with him. I remember +replying, "Yes, it always seems as if peace and happiness, truth and +justice, religion and piety went with him when he goes!" She laughed +a good deal, and then said, seriously, repeating over to herself the +stately mounting sixteenth century phrases, "But it's quite true, you +know!" I hardly think, though, that I should have said it of the young +man in the sketch! + +I am now going to make a comment or two on my brother's word-pictures +as I should if he were by my side. But first I should like his readers +to know and realize that both were written before the period of what +I may call Donald's "Renaissance," a period that can be roughly marked +by the publication of his first book, _The Lord of all Good Life_. + +Up to then he had been struggling in vain for self-expression. How he +had worked the amount of MSS. he has left alone proves--for we have it +on a friend's testimony that "he tore up much of what he wrote"; and +he also had experienced and suffered, violating his natural "timidity" +and his in some ways, precarious health, for he had never got over +certain weaknesses engendered by his illness in Mauritius--in his +struggle to get a true basis for a solution of the meaning of life +and of religion. What cost him most was the knowledge that he +was frequently doubted and misunderstood by many of those whose +approbation would have been very dear to him. This is proved by his +constantly expressed gratitude to the one or two who never doubted him +for one moment. + +With the writing of this book, as we know, all his difficulties began +to clear away, and at the same time he began to reap the harvest of +love and admiration that he had sown in his toils to produce it. +And the result was he opened out like a flower to the sun! No one +can doubt this for a moment who has read his book of a year later, +_The Student in Arms_, and rejoiced in the radiant happiness of its +inspiration. + +He had more than once said to me during the past two years, "You know +it makes a _tremendous_ difference to me when people really _like_ +me." No longer was it a case of "one friend at a time." The period for +that was over and done with. He had come into his own. He was ready +for a universal brotherhood, and no hand would ever be held out to him +in vain. + +It is impossible to believe that he does not now know of and +appreciate all the beautiful tributes that have come to him since +his "passing"--from the perfect wreath of immortelles weaved by Mr. +Strachey to the sweet pansy of thought dropped by a little fellow +V.A.D. of mine who said beautifully and courageously--though knowing +him solely through his book--"We feel since he gave us his thought +that he belongs a tiny bit to us, too," thus voicing the feeling of +many. + +I believe the paper entitled "My Home" to have been written at Oxford, +and "School" not so very long after. In any case, I have definite +proof of their both belonging to Donald's pre-"Renaissance" period, +for the friendship with F----, that began at "the Shop" and went under +a cloud for a time, was renewed with fresh vigour in 1914, and has +burned brightly ever since. Only last July was I sent by him a letter +of F----'s from the trenches, with the injunction, "Please put this +among my treasures," and there is an allusion to a story told in this +letter in the article entitled "Romance" of the present volume. + +To return to "My Home," I question whether the love and devotion of +"Hilda" and "Ma" for Hugh was so entirely unselfish. For my mother I +fully believe, as for "Hilda," Hugh was the epitome of all that was +fine, splendid and joyous in life. He was the glorious knight, the +"preux chevalier" "sans peur et sans reproche," who rode forth at dawn +with clean sword and shining armour, and all the world before him, yet +keeping his heart for ever in his home. He was the child of her youth +as Donald was the child of her maturity. Deep down in her wonderfully +varied nature there were certain bottomless springs of courage, daring +and enterprise which she herself had little chance of expressing and +of which Hugh alone was the personification. + +As long as I can remember Hugh had been my ideal and made all the +interest and joy of life for me. Whether he were at home or abroad I +never had a thought I did not share with him. When he died, the best +part of me died too, or was paralysed rather, and Heaven knows what +sort of a "substitute" I should have been for "Ma" to Donald, had not +the baby Hugh come, just in time, with healing in his wings to restore +life to the best part of me! + +I am glad to think that Donald's "Autobiography" was written before +1914, for I know that even before that I was becoming more to him than +a "substitute." I too have my memories and pictures! + +It is May, 1915. I am in the country-house--cleaning is going on at +home. + +I get a letter to say that the Rifle Brigade may leave for France +at any time, and that Donald _may_ get some "leave" on Saturday or +Sunday. + +I make a dash for town. + +There I find a telegram of reckless and unconscionable length, running +into two pages. He cannot come up--they may leave at any moment. It +seems hardly worth while my bothering to come to Aldershot on the +chance--he may be unable to leave barracks. + +I write a return telegram--also of reckless and unconscionable length, +and reply paid--it is a relief to do so--asking for a place of meeting +at Aldershot to be suggested. + +I get no answer at all, and on Sunday morning, in despair, I go +over to see my aunt and cousin. My aunt is my mother's sister and a +sportswoman. She counsels, "Go at all costs." Dorothy will come with +me: Dorothy is Donald's best woman pal--she reminds him of his mother. +She is all that is wholesome and comportable. + +The element of enjoyment comes in, and I go home and pack a nice +lunch. + +We arrive at Aldershot. + +There is no one on the platform to meet us, and we push our way +through the turnstile. + +There is Donald, on the outskirts of the waiting crowd--a tall, +soldierly figure in the uniform of a private--for he has resigned his +sergeant's stripes by now. + +His face is very boyish--not the face of the photograph at the +beginning of this book: that was taken after he had been to France, +and had been wounded, and had written "A Passing in June," and "The +Honour of the Brigade"--but a much younger face, really boyish. + +He glances quickly and anxiously at every face that passes, and each +time he is a little more disappointed--but he tries not to show it. + +I am not tall and cannot catch his eye. It is like being at a play, +watching him! All at once he sees me! Involuntarily a sudden quick +spasm of joy passes across his face, absolutely transfiguring it. + +He smooths it away quickly, for he is a Briton and does not like to +show his feelings--but he has given himself away! + +Dorothy and I shall never forget that look. And it was for _me_--at +first he does not see Dorothy. When he does it is an added pleasure. + +With _two_ ladies to escort he assumes a lordly air. + +He had thought of everything. We would like some tea? Yes, all the big +places are shut as it is Sunday, but he has marked down a little place +on his way to the station. + +It is a lovely day, and we are very happy! + +The girl who waits upon us at the little tea place likes us, and so do +the other Tommies and their friends who are having tea there. + +We sit at little tables, but at very close quarters with each other, +and we smile at them and they at us. + +I have brought Donald some letters, which pleases him, and Dorothy has +brought him some splendid socks, knitted by herself. + +After tea we walk across an arid plain to a little wood, and sit down +under the trees. + +Donald changes to the new socks--those he had on were wringing wet! + +He picks us little bunches of violets, hyacinths and wild strawberry +flowers--we have them still. + +We are very happy the whole of the day, and have my sandwiches and +cake and fruit for supper, there under the trees. And here in thought +let me leave "The Student in Arms," who was to me part son, best pal, +brother, comrade, and counsellor on all subjects--and more than a +little bit of grandpapa! + +He could be so many different things because, as another friend and +cousin said, "he seemed to know everything about everybody." + +I like to think of those two fine spirits--Hugh and Donald--each with +a hand to the tiny baby nephew, and a word of greeting for me when I +go over the top. + + +THE END + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Student in Arms, by Donald Hankey + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14823 *** diff --git a/14823-h/14823-h.htm b/14823-h/14823-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c36ee7b --- /dev/null +++ b/14823-h/14823-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4705 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" + content="text/html; charset=UTF-8" /> + + <title>A Student in Arms, by Donald Hankey. 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St. Loe Strachey</h4> + + <h4>Editor of <i>The Spectator</i></h4> + + <h4>New York</h4> + + <h4>B.P. Dutton & Co.</h4> + + <h4>681 Fifth Avenue</h4> + + <center> + Published 1917 BY E.P. DUTTON & CO. + </center> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/3.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/3.png" + alt="DONALD HANKEY" /></a>DONALD HANKEY + </div> + + <h2>CONTENTS</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="sc"><a href="#SOMETHING">Something about "A + Student in Arms" 1</a></p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="sc"><a href="#foreword">Author's Foreword + 33</a></p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="sc"><a href="#I">I.—The Potentate + 37</a></p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="sc"><a href="#II">II.—The Bad Side of + Military Service 51</a></p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="sc"><a href="#III">III.—The Good Side + of "Militarism" 65</a></p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="sc"><a href="#IV">IV.—A Month's + Reflections 79</a></p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="sc"><a href="#V">V.—Romance 93</a></p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="sc"><a href="#VI">VI.—Imaginary + Conversations (I) 109</a></p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="sc"><a href="#VII">VII.—The Fear of + Death in War 115</a></p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="sc"><a href="#VIII">VIII.—Imaginary + Conversations (II) 127</a></p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="sc"><a href="#IX">IX.—The Wisdom of "A + Student in Arms" 139</a></p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="sc"><a href="#X">X.—Imaginary + Conversations (III) 145</a></p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="sc"><a href="#XI">XI.—Letter to an Army + Chaplain 153</a></p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="sc"><a href="#XII">XII.—"Don't Worry" + 165</a></p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="sc"><a href="#XIII">XIII.—Imaginary + Conversations (IV) 175</a></p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="sc"><a href="#XIV">XIV.—A Passing in + June, 1915 181</a></p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="sc"><a href="#XV">XV.—My Home and + School:</a></p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="sc"> I My Home 199</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="sc"> II School 216</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="sc"><a href="#SOME">Some Notes on the + Fragment of Autobiography by "Hilda" 237</a></p> + </div> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page1" + id="page1"></a>[pg 1]</span> + <hr /> + <a name="SOMETHING" + id="SOMETHING"></a> + + <h2>SOMETHING ABOUT "A STUDENT IN ARMS"</h2> + + <h2 class="sc">By H.M.A.H.</h2> + + <p>"His life was a Romance of the most noble and beautiful + kind." So says one who has known him from childhood, and into + how many dull, hard and narrow lives has he not been the first + to bring the element of Romance?</p> + + <p>He carried it about with him; it breathes through his + writings, and this inevitable expression of it gives the saying + of one of his friends, that "it is as an artist that we shall + miss him most," the more significance.</p> + + <p>And does not the artist as well as the poet live forever in + his works? Is not the breath of inspiration that such alone can + breathe into the dull clods of their generation bound to be + immortal?</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page2" + id="page2"></a>[pg 2]</span> + + <p>Meanwhile, his "Romance" is to be written and his biographer + will be one whose good fortune it has been to see much of the + "Student" in Bermondsey, the place that was the forcing-house + of his development. In the following pages it is proposed only + to give an outline of his life, and particularly the earlier + and therefore to the public unknown parts.</p> + + <p>Donald Hankey was born at Brighton in 1884; he was the + seventh child of his parents, and was welcomed with excitement + and delight by a ready-made family of three brothers and two + sisters living on his arrival amongst them. He was the youngest + of them by seven years, and all had their plans for his + education and future, and waited jealously for the time when he + should be old enough to be removed from the loving shelter of + his mother's arms and be "brought up."</p> + + <p>His education did, as a matter of fact, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page3" + id="page3"></a>[pg 3]</span> begin at a very early age; for + one day, when he was perhaps about three years old, dressed + in a white woolly cap and coat, and out for his morning + walk, a neighbouring baby stepped across from his nurse's + side and with one well-directed blow felled Donald to the + ground! Donald was too much astonished and hurt at the sheer + injustice of the assault to dream of retaliation, but when + they reached home and his indignant nurse told the story, he + was taken aside by his brothers and made to understand that + by his failure to resist the assault, and give the other + fellow back as good as he gave, "the honour of the family" + was impugned! He was then and there put through a systematic + course of "the noble art of self-defence." "And I think," + said one of his brothers only the other day, "that he was + prepared to act upon his instructions should occasion + arise." It will be seen from this incident that his + bringing-up was of a decidedly strenuous + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page4" + id="page4"></a>[pg 4]</span> character and likely to make + Donald's outlook on life a serious one!</p> + + <p>He was naturally a peace-loving and philosophical little + boy, very lovable and attractive with his large clear eyes with + their curious distribution of colour—the one entirely + blue and the other three parts a decided brown—the big + head set proudly on the slender little body, and the radiant + illuminating smile, that no one who knew him well at any time + of his life can ever forget. It spoke of a light within, "that + mysterious light which is of course not physical," as was said + by one who met him only once, but was quick to note this + characteristic.</p> + + <p>Donald's more strenuous times were in the boys' + holidays—those tumultuous of seasons so well known to the + members of all big families! His eldest brother, Hugh, was bent + on making an all-round athlete of him; another brother saw in + him an embryo county cricketer, while a third was most + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page5" + id="page5"></a>[pg 5]</span> particular about his music, + giving him lessons on the violoncello with clockwork + regularity. The games were terribly thrilling and dangerous, + especially when the schoolroom was turned into a miniature + battlefield, with opposing armies of tiny lead soldiers. But + Donald never turned a hair if Hugh were present, even at the + most terrific explosions of gun-powder. His confidence in + Hugh was complete. Nor did he mind personal injuries. When + on one occasion he was hurled against the sharp edge of a + chair, cutting his head open badly, and his mother came to + the rescue with indignation, sympathy and bandages, whilst + accepting the latter he deprecated the two former, + explaining apologetically, "It's only because my head's so + big."</p> + + <p>He admitted in after years to having felt most terribly + swamped by the personalities of two of his brothers. The third + he had more in common with, for he was more peace-loving, and + he seemed <span class="pagenum"><a name="page6" + id="page6"></a>[pg 6]</span> to have more time to listen to + the small boy's confidences and stories, which Donald + started to write at the age of six.</p> + + <p>Hugh, however, was his hero—a kind of demi-god. And + truly there was something Greek about the boy—in his + singular beauty of person, coupled with his brilliant mental + equipment, and above all in the nothing less than Spartan + methods with which, in spite of a highly sensitive temperament, + he set himself to overcome his handicap of a naturally delicate + physique and a bad head for heights. He turned himself out + quite an athlete, and actually cured his bad head by a course + of walking on giddy heights, preferably roofs—the parapet + of the tall four-storied house the children lived in being a + favourite training ground.</p> + + <p>Donald was the apple of his eye, and he was quick to note a + certain lack of vitality about the little boy—especially + when he was growing fast—and a certain natural timidity. + His letters from school <span class="pagenum"><a name="page7" + id="page7"></a>[pg 7]</span> are full of messages to and + instructions concerning Donald's physical training, and from + Sandhurst he would long to "run over and see after his + boxing." He called him Don Diego, a name that suited the + rather stately little fellow, and he used to fear sometimes + that Donald was "getting too polite" and say he must "knock + it out of him in the holidays." Needless to say, his + handling of him was always very gentle.</p> + + <p>The other over-vital brother, if a prime amuser, was also a + prime tease, and being nearer Donald in age was also much less + gentle.</p> + + <p>Before very long these great personages took themselves off + "zum neuen taten." But their Odysseys came home in the shape of + letters, which, with their descriptions of strange countries + and peoples and records of adventures—often the + realization of boyish dreams—and also of difficulties + overcome, were well calculated to appeal to + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page8" + id="page8"></a>[pg 8]</span> Donald's childish imagination, + and to increase his admiration for the writers—and + also his feeling of impotence, and of the impossibility of + being able to follow in the tracks of such giants among + men!</p> + + <p>His mother, however, was his never-failing confidante and + friend. His love and admiration for her were unbounded, as for + her courage, unselfishness and constant thought for others, + more especially for the poor and insignificant among her + neighbours. Though the humblest minded of women, she could, + when occasion demanded, administer a rebuke with a decision and + a fire that must have won the heartfelt admiration of her + diffident little son.</p> + + <p>He was not easily roused himself, but there is one instance + of his being so that is eminently characteristic. He had come + back from school evidently very perturbed, and at first his + sister could get nothing out of him. But at last he flared up. + His face reddened, his eyes burned like coals + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page9" + id="page9"></a>[pg 9]</span> and, in a voice trembling with + rage, he said, "—— (naming a school-fellow) + talks about things that I won't even <i>think</i>!"</p> + + <p>At the age of about 14 he, too, went to Rugby, and there is + an interesting prophecy about him by his brother Hugh belonging + to this time. Hugh had by now earned a certain right to + pronounce judgment, having already started to fulfil his early + promise by making some mark as a soldier and a linguist. He had + been invited to join the Egyptian Army at a critical time in + the campaign of 1897-98, thanks to his proficiency in Arabic. + His work was cut short by serious illness, the long period of + convalescence after which he had utilized in working for and + passing the Army Interpreter's examination in Turkish as well + as the higher one in Arabic and his promotion exam. All of + which achievements had been of use in helping him to wring out + of the War Office a promise of + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page10" + id="page10"></a>[pg 10]</span> certain distinguished service + in China. In a letter home he writes:—</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>2ND BATT. THE ROYAL WARWICKSHIRE, REGT.,</p> + + <p>THE CAMP,</p> + + <p>COLCHESTER.</p> + + <p>28th Sept., 1899.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>MY DEAR MAMMA,—</p> + + <p>I packed Donald off to school to-day in good time and + cold-less.... He was wonderfully calm and collected. He was + more at his ease in our mess than I should have been in a + strange mess, and made himself agreeable to his neighbours + without being forward. Also he looked very clean and smart, + and was altogether quite a success.</p> + + <p>That child has a future before him if his energy is up + to form, which I hope. His philosophy is most amazing. He + looks remarkably healthy, and is growing nicely....</p> + </blockquote> + + <p>Shortly after this letter was written the South African War + broke out, and before six months were over the writer was + killed in action, at the age of 27, whilst + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page11" + id="page11"></a>[pg 11]</span> serving with the Mounted + Infantry at Paardeberg.</p> + + <p>It was the first sorrow of Donald's life, but six months + later he was to suffer a yet more crushing blow in the loss of + his dearly loved mother. The loss of his best confidante and + his ideal seemed at first to stun the boy completely, and to + cast him in upon himself entirely. Later on he remembered that + he had felt at that time that he had nothing to say to any one. + He had wondered what the others could have thought of him, and + had thought how dreadfully unresponsive they must be finding + him. His sister should have been of some use. But she can only + think of herself then as of some strange figure, veiled and + petrified with grief—grief <i>not</i> for her mother, but + for the young hero whose magnetism had thrilled through every + moment of her life—yet pointing onwards, with mutely + insistent finger, to the path that her hero had trodden. And + Donald, dazed also <span class="pagenum"><a name="page12" + id="page12"></a>[pg 12]</span> himself by grief—though + from another cause—of his own accord, placed his first + uncertain steps on the road that leads to military glory. No + "voice" warned him as yet, and he had no other decisive + leading.</p> + + <p>If his sister failed him then, his father did not. Of him + Donald wrote recently to an aunt, "Papa's letters to me are a + heritage whose value can never diminish. His was indeed the pen + of a ready writer, and in his case, as in the case of many + rather reserved people, the pen did more justice to the man + than the tongue. I never knew him until Mamma's death, when the + weekly letter from him took the place of hers, and never + stopped till I came home."</p> + + <p>At Rugby, Donald was accounted a dreamer. Without the outlet + he had hitherto had for his confidences and his thoughts no + doubt the tendency to dream grew upon him. "Behold this dreamer + cometh," was actually said of him by one of his masters.</p> + + <p>Nevertheless there were happy times + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page13" + id="page13"></a>[pg 13]</span> when youth asserted itself + and boyish friendships were made. In work he did well, for + he entered the sixth form at the early age of 16-1/2, and + was thereby enabled, though he left young, to have his name + painted up "in hall" below those of his three brothers, and + also on his "study" door which belonged to each of the four + in turn.</p> + + <p>He entered the Royal Military Academy, Woolwich, straight + from Rugby, and before he was seventeen. We have his word for + it that he was spiritually very unhappy there, finding evils + with which he was impotent to grapple, going up as he did so + young from school and before he had had time to acquire a + "games" reputation—that all-important qualification for a + boy if he wishes to influence his fellows. Nevertheless + youthful spirits were bound to triumph sometimes. He was a + perfectly sound and healthy, well-grown boy and a friend who + was with him at "the <span class="pagenum"><a name="page14" + id="page14"></a>[pg 14]</span> Shop" says he can remember no + apparent trace of unhappiness, and is full of tales of his + jokes and his fun, his quaint caricatures and doggerel + rhymes, his love of flowers and nature, his hospitalities, + and his joy in getting his friends to meet and know and like + each other. Though he made no mark at Woolwich he did carry + off the prize for the best essay on the South African War. + With it he made his first appearance in print, for it was + printed in the R.M.A. Magazine. While he was at Woolwich the + family circle was enlarged by the arrival of a cousin from + Australia, and she and Donald became the greatest of + friends. She reminded him in some way of his mother, and + this made all the difference.</p> + + <p>The Island of Mauritius, to which he was sent at the age of + twenty, not so very long after having received his commission + in the Royal Garrison Artillery, stood for him later on, he has + told us, as "Revelation"—"for there it was that I was + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page15" + id="page15"></a>[pg 15]</span> first a sceptic, and was + first shown that I could not remain one." Also towards the + end of his stay there, when he was doubting as to what + course he should take, a sentence came to him insistently, + "Would you know Christ? Lo, He is working in His vineyard." + It was these things that decided him eventually to resign + his commission, but of them his letters home make little or + no mention. They are full, on the other hand, of + descriptions of the beauties of the Island which, curious, + odd, freakish and unexpected, held him as did those of no + other place. The curious inconsistencies of the Creole + nature also interested him, and he spent much of his spare + time sketching and studying the people. Two friendships he + made there were diverse and lasting, but he complains very + much of feeling the lack of a woman friend—no one to + tease and pick flowers for!</p> + + <p>While he was still there, there appeared + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page16" + id="page16"></a>[pg 16]</span> at home a baby + nephew—another "Hugh"—"trailing clouds of + glory," but to return all too soon to his "Eternal Home." + Some years previously, when his eldest sister had told him + of her engagement, he congratulated her warmly, and said he + "had always longed for a nephew"! He never saw the child, + but wrote after his death that he had heard so much about + him that he seemed to know him, and "I think I must have + played with him in my dreams." Possibly the baby nephew, in + his short ten months of life, did more for his uncle than + either knew, for no frozen hearts could do otherwise than + melt in the presence of the insistent needs of that gallant + little spirit and fragile little body, and a more + whole-hearted sister was awaiting him on his return home, + which took place at the end of two years, after he had + fallen a victim to the prevalent complaint in the + R.G.A—abscess on the liver. It was caused by the + shocking conditions under which the R.G.A. had + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page17" + id="page17"></a>[pg 17]</span> to live in Mauritius during + that hot summer when the Russian Fleet sojourned in + Madagascan waters, and in Donald's case it necessitated a + severe operation.</p> + + <p>His joy in his homecoming was quickly clouded over, for his + father died only a month or two after his return; not, however, + before he had given a delighted acquiescence to Donald's + proposal to resign his commission and go to Oxford in order to + study theology—his own favourite pursuit—with the + object of eventually taking Holy Orders.</p> + + <p>In the spring of 1907 Donald took a trip to Italy with his + sister and a Rhodes Scholar cousin from Australia. It was the + young men's first visit, and each brought back a special + trophy: Donald's, a large photograph of a fine virile "Portrait + of a man" by Giorgione in black and white, and his cousin, a + sweet Madonna head by Luini.</p> + + <p>Donald gave his sister her trophy on their return home, in + remembrance of the <span class="pagenum"><a name="page18" + id="page18"></a>[pg 18]</span> lectures she had given the + two of them on the pre-Raphaelite painters in Florence. It + took the form of a water-colour caricature of herself, + sitting enthroned in a Loggia as a sort of Sybil Saint with + a halo and a book (Baedeker). Behind her, and outlined + against a pale sky as seen through an archway of the Loggia + in the typical Florentine fashion, are the blue mountains + near Florence, some tall cypresses, a campanile and a castle + perched on the top of a hill—all features of the + landscapes through which they had passed together. In the + foreground are himself and his cousin as monks adoring, also + with haloes, and expressions of mock ecstasy!</p> + + <p>On his return Donald went for a few months to Rugby House, + the Rugby School Mission, in order to cram for Oxford. He + thereby made a friend, and learned to love Browning.</p> + + <p>After living so long at Brighton, and then in barracks, the + beauty of Oxford <span class="pagenum"><a name="page19" + id="page19"></a>[pg 19]</span> was in itself alone a + revelation to him. The work there, too, was entirely + congenial. As a gunner subaltern he had been a square peg in + a round hole. As regards the work there had been far too + much to be accepted on authority for one of his fundamental + type of mind; the relations existing between an officer and + his men—in peace time, at any rate—seemed to him + hardly human, and the making of quick decisions, which an + officer is continually called upon to do, was then as always + very difficult to him. His tastes, too, unusual in a + subaltern, had made him rather lonely. He found much more in + common with the undergraduate than with the subaltern. Going + up as an "oldster" (22) was to him an advantage rather than + otherwise, for his six years in the Army had given him a + certain prestige which was a help to his natural diffidence, + and helped to open more doors to him, so that he was not + limited to any + set.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page20" + id="page20"></a>[pg 20]</span> + + <p>He gained some reputation as a host, for he had the born + host's gift of getting the right people together and making + them feel at their ease. There was also, as a rule, some little + individual touch about his entertainments that made them stand + out. His manner, though naturally boyish and shy, could be both + gay and debonair, quite irresistible in fact, when he was + surrounded by congenial spirits! He played hockey, and was made + a member of several clubs, sketched and made beautiful + photographs. His time he divided strictly between the study of + man and the study of theology, and though he did much hard, + thorough and careful work in connexion with the latter, he + always maintained that for a man who was going to be a parson + the former was the more important study of the two.</p> + + <p>He used, however, to complain much at this time of feeling + himself incapable of any very strong emotion, even that of + sorrow.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page21" + id="page21"></a>[pg 21]</span> + + <p>No doubt there is more stimulation to the brain than to the + heart in the highly critical atmosphere of all phases of the + intellectual life at Oxford; also Donald had hardly yet got + over the shocks of his youth and the loneliness of his life + abroad. He was, too, essentially and curiously the son of his + father—even to his minor tastes, such as his + connoisseur's palate for a good wine and his judgment in + "smokes"—and this feeling of a certain detachment from + the larger emotions of life was always his father's + pose—the philosopher's. In his father's case it was + perhaps engendered, if not necessitated, by his poor health and + wretched nerves.</p> + + <p>But can we not trace his dissatisfaction at this time in + what he felt to be his cold philosophical attitude towards life + to the same cause as much of the misery he suffered as a boy! + In the paper he calls "School," which follows with that + entitled "Home," he tells us how he would have liked to have + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page22" + id="page22"></a>[pg 22]</span> chastised a school-fellow + "had he dared," and his failure to dare was evidently what + reduced him to the state of impotent rage described on page + 9 of this sketch. Again at Woolwich, what made him unhappy + was not so much the evils which he saw but his impotence to + deal with them. So now again at Oxford he feels "impotent," + impotent this time to feel and sympathize as he would have + wished with suffering humanity. But within him was the + light, "the light which is, of course, not physical," which + betrayed itself through his wonderful smile—the same + now as in babyhood; and from his mother, and perhaps also + from the young country that gave her birth, he had + inherited, as well as her great heart and broad human + sympathies, the vigour that was to carry him through the + experiences by means of which, in the fullness of time, that + light, no longer dormant, was to break into a flame of + infinite possibilities.</p> + + <p>Donald's one complaint against Oxford + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page23" + id="page23"></a>[pg 23]</span> was that the ideas that are + born and generated there so often evaporate in talk and + smoke. He left with the determination to "do," but before + going on to a Clergy School he decided to accept a friend's + invitation to visit him in savage Africa so that he might + think things over, and put to the test, far away from the + artificialities of Modern Life, the ideas he had assimilated + in the highly sophisticated atmosphere of Oxford. As he + quaintly put it: "Since Paul went into Arabia for three + years, I don't see why I should not go to British East + Africa for six months!" He did not, however, stay the whole + time there, but re-visited his beloved Mauritius, and also + stayed in Madagascar.</p> + + <p>The beginning of 1911 found him at the Clergy School. But + what he wanted he did not find there. During his Oxford + vacations he had made many expeditions to poorer London, at + first to Notting Dale where was the Rugby School Mission, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page24" + id="page24"></a>[pg 24]</span> and afterwards to Bermondsey. + But these expeditions had not been entirely satisfactory. He + had then gone as a "visitor." The lessons he wanted to learn + now from "the People" could only be learned by becoming as + far as possible one of them. The story of his struggles to + do so in his life in Bermondsey, and of his journey to + Australia in the steerage of a German liner and of his + roughing it there, always with the same object in view, + cannot be told here. The first outcome of it all was the + writing of his book, <i>The Lord of All Good Life</i>. Of + this book he says, in a letter to his friend Tom Allen of + the Oxford and Bermondsey Mission:</p> + + <p>"The book I regard as my child. I feel quite absurdly about + it; to me it is the sudden vision of what lots of obscure + things really meant. It is coming out of dark shadows + into—moonlight ... I would have you to realize that it + was written spontaneously in a burst, in six + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page25" + id="page25"></a>[pg 25]</span> weeks, without any + consultation of authorities or any revision to speak of. I + had tried and tried, but without success. Then suddenly + everything cleared up. To myself, the writing of it was an + illumination. I did not write it laboriously and with + calculation or because I wanted to write a book and be an + author. I wrote it because problems that had been troubling + me suddenly cleared up and because writing down the result + was to me the natural way of getting everything straight in + my own mind."</p> + + <p>The book was written not away in the peace of the country, + nor in the comparative quiet of a certain sunny little + sitting-room I know of, looking on to a leafy back garden in + Kensington, where Donald often sat and smoked and wrote, but in + a little flat in a dull tenement house in a grey street in + Bermondsey, where I remember visiting him with a cousin of + his.</p> + + <p>Here the Student lived like a lord—for Bermondsey! For + he possessed two <span class="pagenum"><a name="page26" + id="page26"></a>[pg 26]</span> flats, one for his + "butler"—a sick-looking young man in list slippers, + and his wife and family—and the other for himself.</p> + + <p>The little sitting-room in which he entertained us was very + pleasant, with light walls, a bright table-cloth, a gleam of + something brass that had come from Ceylon, one or two gaily + painted dancing shields from Africa, and two barbaric looking + dolls, about a foot high, dressed chiefly in beads and paint, + that he had picked up in an Antananarivo shop in Madagascar. + They came in usefully when he was lecturing on Missions!</p> + + <p>His bedroom he did not want us to see. It struck cold and + appeared to be reeking with damp!</p> + + <p>The weather had been rather dull when we arrived, but + suddenly there was a glint of sunshine, and a grind-organ that + had wandered up the street started playing just opposite. Two + couple of children began to dance. A girl with a jug stopped + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page27" + id="page27"></a>[pg 27]</span> to watch them, and mothers + with babies came to their doors. A window was thrown open + opposite and a whole family of children leaned out to see + the fun.</p> + + <p>Bermondsey was gay, and after we had gone the "Student" + perpetuated the fact in a water-colour drawing which he sent to + his cousin afterwards.</p> + + <p>In the evening, however, the sounds would be more + discordant, also the Student was running a Boys' Club, taking + several Sunday services at the Mission, visiting some very sick + people, and attending to a multifarious list of duties which + left me breathless when I saw it, knowing too how many casual + appeals always came to him and that he never was known to + refuse a helping hand to any one! Nevertheless it was there, + and in six weeks, that the <i>Lord of All Good Life</i> was + written!</p> + + <p>"Then came the war," and the Student shall tell us in his + own words what it meant to him. Writing still to Tom Allen, who + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page28" + id="page28"></a>[pg 28]</span> had also enlisted, and + afterwards also gave his life in the war, he says:</p> + + <p>"For myself the war was, in a sense, a heaven-sent + opportunity. Ever since I left Leeds I have been trying to + follow out the theory that the proper subject of study for the + theologian was man, and had increasingly been made to feel that + nothing but violent measures could overcome my own shyness + sufficiently to enable me to study outside my own class. + Enlistment had always appealed to me as one of the few feasible + methods of ensuring the desired results....</p> + + <p>"I was interested to hear that you found the —— + so illuminating as regards human potentialities for bestiality. + I think that I plumbed the depths between sixteen and a half + and twenty-two. I have learned nothing more since then about + bestiality. In fact I am hardened, and, I am afraid, take it + for granted. Since then I have been discovering human + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page29" + id="page29"></a>[pg 29]</span> goodness, which is far more + satisfactory. And oh, I have found it! In Bermondsey, in the + stinking hold of the <i>Zieten</i>, in the wide, thirsty + desert of Western Australia, and in the ranks of the 7th + Battalion of the Rifle Brigade. I enlisted very largely to + find out how far I really believed in the brotherhood of man + when it comes to the point—and I do believe in it more + and more."</p> + + <p>Donald Hankey enlisted in August, 1914, and after a period + of training, part of which was certainly the happiest time of + his life, he went to the front in May, 1915, coming home + wounded in August, when he wrote for the <i>Spectator</i> most + of the articles that were published anonymously the following + spring under the title of <i>A Student in Arms</i>. Before he + left hospital he received a commission in his old regiment, the + R.G.A., but still finding himself with no love for big guns, he + transferred to his eldest brother's regiment, the Royal + Warwickshire, hoping that by doing so he might get back to the + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page30" + id="page30"></a>[pg 30]</span> front the sooner. He did not, + however, leave until May, 1916, after he had written his + contribution to <i>Faith or Fear</i>.</p> + + <p>Most of the numbers of the present volume were written in or + near the trenches, and a fellow-officer gave his sister an + interesting description of how it was done. "Your brother," + said he, "will sit down in a corner of a trench, with his pipe, + and write an article for the <i>Spectator</i>, or make funny + sketches for his nephews and nieces, when none of the rest of + us could concentrate sufficiently even to write a letter."</p> + + <p>On October 6th, Donald Hankey wrote home: "We shall probably + be fighting by the time you get this letter, but one has a far + better chance of getting through now than in July. I shall be + very glad if we do have a scrap, as we have been resting quite + long enough. Of course one always has to face possibilities on + such occasions; but we have faced them in advance, haven't + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page31" + id="page31"></a>[pg 31]</span> we? I believe with all my + soul that whatever will be, will be for the best. As I said + before, I should hate to slide meanly into winter without a + scrap.... I have a top-hole platoon—nearly all young, + and nearly all have been out here eighteen + months—thoroughly good sporting fellows; so if I don't + do well it will be my fault."</p> + + <p>Six days after this the Student knelt down for a few seconds + with his men—we have it on the testimony of one of + them—and he told them a little of what was before them: + "If wounded, 'Blighty'; if killed, the Resurrection." Then + "over the top." He was last seen alive rallying his men, who + had wavered for a moment under the heavy machine gun and rifle + fire. He carried the waverers along with him, and was found + that night close to the trench, the winning of which had cost + him his life, with his platoon sergeant and a few of his men by + his side.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page32" + id="page32"></a>[pg 32]</span> + + <p>What wonder that his cousin and best friend, when asked a + short time previously what he was like, had replied, "He is the + most beautiful thing that ever + happened."</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page33" + id="page33"></a>[pg 33]</span> + <hr /> + <a name="foreword" + id="foreword"></a> + + <h2>AUTHOR'S FOREWORD</h2> + + <h2 class="sc">(Being Extracts from Letters to his Sister)</h2> + + <p>"I am very much wondering whether you will receive 'A Diary' + in four parts. It is very much founded on fact, though altered + in parts. You will probably be surprised at a certain change in + tone, but remember that my previous articles were written in + England, while this was written on the spot.... The Diary was + not my diary, though it was so very nearly what mine might have + been that it is difficult to say what is fiction and what is + actuality in it. With regard to the 'conversation' during the + bombardment, it represents in its totality what I believe the + ordinary soldier feels. He loathes the war, and the + grandiloquent <span class="pagenum"><a name="page34" + id="page34"></a>[pg 34]</span> speeches of politicians + irritate him by their failure to realize how loathesome war + is. At the same time he knows he has got to go through with + it, and only longs for the chance to hurry up. In the + 'Diary,' again, I quite deliberately emphasized the + depression of the man who thought he was being left out, and + the mental effect of the clearing-up process because I + thought that it would be a good thing for people to realize + this side, and also partly because I felt that in previous + articles I had glossed over it too much.... If I get a + chance of publishing another book I shall certainly include + them."</p> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p><i>Note</i>.—Not only "A Diary" and "Imaginary + Conversations," but every paper in the present collection, + with the exception of "The Wisdom," "The Potentate," and "A + Passing in June," were written in France in 1916, and many + of them actually in the trenches. The rough sketch for "A + Passing in June" was written in France in 1915, but was + completed when the author was in hospital at home.</p> + + <p>"The Potentate" was written for the original volume of + <i>A Student in Arms</i>, but was not published on account + of its likeness in subject to Barrie's play, <i>Der + Tag</i>, which, however, Donald had not seen or even heard + of when he wrote his own.</p> + </blockquote><span class="pagenum"><a name="page37" + id="page37"></a>[pg 37]</span> + <hr /> + <a name="I" + id="I"></a> + + <h2>I</h2> + + <h3>THE POTENTATE<a id="footnotetag1" + name="footnotetag1"></a><a href="#footnote1"><sup>1</sup></a></h3> + + <blockquote> + <p>SCENE. <i>A tent (interior). The</i> POTENTATE <i>is + sitting at a table listening to his</i> COURT CHAPLAIN.</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>COURT CHAPLAIN (<i>concluding his remarks</i>). Where + can we look for the Kingdom of God, Sire, if not among the + German people? Consider your foes. The English are + Pharisees, hypocrites. Woe to them, saith the Lord. The + French are atheists. The Belgians are ignorant and + priest-ridden. The Russians are sunk in mediæval + superstition. As for the Italians, half are atheists and + the other half idolators. Only in Germany do you find a + reasonable and progressive faith, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page38" + id="page38"></a>[pg 38]</span> devoid of superstition, + abreast of scientific thought, and of the highest + ethical value. Germany then, Sire, is the Kingdom of God + on earth. The Germans are the chosen people, the heirs + of the promise, and let their enemies be scattered!</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>The</i> POTENTATE <i>rises, leans forward with his + hands on the table, and an expression of extreme + gratification, while the</i> CHAPLAIN <i>stands with a smug + and respectful smile on his white face.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>POTENTATE. You are right, my dear Clericus, abundantly + right. Very well put indeed! Yes, Germany is the Kingdom of + God, and I (<i>drawing himself up to his full + height</i>)—I am Germany! The strength of the Lord is + in my right arm, and He teaches it terrible things for the + unbeliever and the hypocrite. With God I conquer! + Good-night, my dear Clericus, good-night.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(CLERICUS <i>departs with a low bow, and</i> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page39" + id="page39"></a>[pg 39]</span> <i>the</i> POTENTATE + <i>sinks into his chair with a gesture of fatigue. Enter + a</i> GENERAL <i>of the Headquarters Staff with + telegrams.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>POTENTATE (<i>brightening</i>). Ha, my dear General, you + have news?</p> + + <p>GENERAL. Excellent news, Sire! On the Eastern front the + Russians continue to give way. In the West a French attack + has been repulsed with heavy loss, and our gallant + Prussians have driven the British out of half a mile of + trenches.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>At this last bit of news the</i> POTENTATE + <i>springs to his feet with a look of joy.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>POTENTATE. A sign! My God, a sign! Pardon, General, I + was thinking of a conversation that I have just had with + Dr. Clericus. Come now, show me where these trenches + are.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>The</i> GENERAL <i>produces a map, over which they + pore together.</i>)</p> + </blockquote><span class="pagenum"><a name="page40" + id="page40"></a>[pg 40]</span> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>POTENTATE. Excellent, excellent! A most valuable + capture. Our losses were ...?</p> + + <p>GENERAL. Slight, Sire.</p> + + <p>POTENTATE. Better and better. I cannot afford to lose my + good Prussians, my heroic, my invincible Prussians. To what + do you attribute the success?</p> + + <p>GENERAL. The success was due in a large measure to the + perfection of the apparatus suggested a week ago by your + Majesty's scientific adviser.</p> + + <p>POTENTATE (<i>blanching a little</i>). Ah, then it was + not a charge, eh?</p> + + <p>GENERAL. The charge followed, Sire; but the work was + already done. The defenders of the trench were already dead + or dying before our heroes reached it.</p> + + <p>POTENTATE (<i>sinking back in his chair with his finger + to his lips, and a slight frown</i>). Thank you, General, + your news is of the best. I will detain you no longer. + (<i>The</i> <span class="pagenum"><a name="page41" + id="page41"></a>[pg 41]</span> GENERAL <i>bows.</i>) + Stay! Has a counterattack been launched yet?</p> + + <p>GENERAL. Not yet, Sire. No doubt one will be attempted + to-night. Our men are prepared.</p> + + <p>POTENTATE. Good. Bring me fresh news as soon as it + arrives. Good-night, General, good-night.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>Exit</i> GENERAL.)</p> + + <p>(<i>The</i> POTENTATE <i>sits musing for a considerable + time. A slight cough is heard, and he raises his + head.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>POTENTATE (<i>slowly</i>). Enter!</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>Enter a tall figure in a long black academic gown + and black clothes.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>POTENTATE (<i>with an attempt at gaiety</i>). Come in, + my dear Sage, come in. You are welcome. (<i>A little + anxiously</i>) You have the crystal? Good. How is the + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page42" + id="page42"></a>[pg 42]</span> Master? Still busy + devising new means of victory?</p> + + <p>THE SAGE. My master's poor skill is always at your + service, Sire. You have only to command.</p> + + <p>POTENTATE. I know it. Now let me have the crystal. I + would see if possible the scene of to-day's victory in + Flanders.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>The</i> SAGE <i>hands him the crystal with a low + bow. The</i> POTENTATE <i>seizes it eagerly, and gazes into + it. A pause.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>POTENTATE (<i>raising his head suddenly</i>). Horrible, + horrible!</p> + + <p>SAGE. Sire?</p> + + <p>POTENTATE. This last invention of your master's is + inhuman!</p> + + <p>SAGE. War is inhuman, Sire. Where a speedy end is + desired, is it not kindest to be cruel?</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>The</i> POTENTATE <i>gazes again into the + crystal,</i> <span class="pagenum"><a name="page43" + id="page43"></a>[pg 43]</span> <i>but starts up + immediately with a gasp of horror.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>POTENTATE. Again the same vision! Always after my + victories the vision of the Crucified, with the stern + reproachful eyes! Am I not the Lord's appointed instrument? + What means it? Tell your master that I will have no more of + his inventions. They are too diabolical! They imperil my + cause!</p> + + <p>SAGE (<i>pointing to the crystal</i>). Look again, + Sire.</p> + + <p>POTENTATE (<i>gazing into the crystal, and in a low and + agonized voice</i>). Time with his scythe raised menacingly + against me. (<i>Abruptly</i>) This is a trickery, Sirrah! + Have a care! But I will not be tricked. Are my troops not + brave? Are they not invincible? Can they not win by their + proven valour? Who can stand against them, for the strength + of the Lord is in their right hands?</p> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page44" + id="page44"></a>[pg 44]</span> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>Enter</i> GENERAL <i>hastily</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>GENERAL. Sire.... (<i>He starts, and stops + short</i>).</p> + + <p>POTENTATE (<i>testily</i>). Go on, go on. What is + it?</p> + + <p>GENERAL. Sire, the English counterattack has for the + moment succeeded. Infuriated by their defeat they fought so + that no man could resist them. They have regained the + trenches they had lost, but we hope to attack again + to-morrow, when—</p> + + <p>POTENTATE. Enough! Leave me!</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>The</i> GENERAL <i>withdraws, and the</i> POTENTATE + <i>leans forward with his head on his hands.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>SAGE (<i>commiseratingly</i>). Apparently other troops + are brave besides your own, Sire!</p> + + <p>POTENTATE (<i>brokenly</i>). The cowards! + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page45" + id="page45"></a>[pg 45]</span> The cowards! Five nations + against three! Alas, my poor Prussians!</p> + + <p>SAGE. If you will look once more into the crystal, Sire, + I think you will see something that will interest you.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>The</i> POTENTATE <i>takes the crystal again, but + without confidence.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>POTENTATE (<i>in a slow recitative</i>). A stricken + field by night. The dead lie everywhere, German and + English, side by side. But all are not dead. Some are but + wounded. They help one another. Prussian and Briton help + one another, with painful smiles on their white faces. + What? Have they forgotten their hate? My Prussians! Can you + so soon forget? I mourn for you! But who are these? White + figures, vague, elusive! See, they seem to come down from + above. They are carrying away the souls of my Prussians! + And of the accursed English! + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page46" + id="page46"></a>[pg 46]</span> What! One Paradise for + both! Impossible! And who is that watching? He who with + a smile so loving, and yet so stern ... Ah!... My God + ... no!... not I....</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>The</i> POTENTATE <i>rises with a strangled cry, and + sinks into his chair a nerveless wreck. The</i> SAGE + <i>watches coolly, with a cynical smile.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>SAGE. So, Sire, you must find room for the English in + that kingdom of yours and God's! Perchance it is more + catholic than we had thought!</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>The</i> POTENTATE <i>groans.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>SAGE. Sire, you have seen some truth to-night. Is + courage, is God, all on your side? Is Time on your side? + Shall I go back to my master and tell him that you need no + more of his inventions?</p> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page47" + id="page47"></a>[pg 47]</span> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>He pauses, and glances at the</i> POTENTATE <i>with + a look of contempt, and then turns to go. The</i> POTENTATE + <i>looks round him with a ghastly stare.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>POTENTATE (<i>feebly</i>). No ... the Crucified ... Time + ... Stay, stay!</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>The</i> SAGE <i>turns with a gesture of + triumph.</i>)</p> + + <p>(<i>Curtain.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <blockquote class="footnote"> + <a id="footnote1" + name="footnote1"></a><b>Footnote 1:</b> + <a href="#footnotetag1">(return)</a> + + <p>It is necessary to state that <i>The Potentate</i> was + written before Sir James Barrie's play <i>Der Tag</i> + appeared.</p> + </blockquote><span class="pagenum"><a name="page51" + id="page51"></a>[pg 51]</span> + <hr /> + <a name="II" + id="II"></a> + + <h2>II</h2> + + <h3>THE BAD SIDE OF MILITARY SERVICE</h3> + + <p>A Padre who has earned the right to talk about the "average + Tommy," writes to me that <i>A Student in Arms</i> gives a very + one-sided picture of him. While cordially admitting his + unselfishness, his good comradeship, his patience, and his + pluck, my friend challenges me to deny that military, and + especially active, service often has a brutalizing effect on + the soldier, weakening his moral fibres, and causing him to + sink to a low animal level.</p> + + <p>Those who are in the habit of reading between the lines + will, I think, often have seen the shadow of this darker side + of army life on the pages of <i>A Student in Arms</i>; but I + have not written of it specifically + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page52" + id="page52"></a>[pg 52]</span> for several reasons. It will + suffice if I mention two. First, I was writing mainly of the + private and the N.C.O. Rightly or wrongly, I imagined that + those for whom I was writing were in the habit of taking for + granted this darker side of life in the ranks. I imagined + that they thought of the "lower classes" as being naturally + coarser and more animal than the "upper classes." I wanted + then, and I want now, to contradict that belief with all the + vehemence of which I am capable. Officers and men + necessarily develop different qualities, different forms of + expression, different mental attitudes. But I am confident + that I speak the truth when I say that essentially, and in + the eyes of God there is nothing to choose between them.</p> + + <p>If I must write of the brutalizing effect of war on the + soldier, let it be clearly understood that I am speaking, not + of officers only, nor of privates only, but of + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page53" + id="page53"></a>[pg 53]</span> fighting men of every class + and rank. As a matter of fact I have never, whether before + or during the war, belonged to a mess where the tone was + cleaner or more wholesome than it was in the Sergeants' Mess + of my old battalion.</p> + + <p>My second reason for not writing about the bad side of Army + life was that mere condemnation is so futile. I have listened + to countless sermons in which the "lusts of the flesh" were + denounced, and have known for certain that their power for good + was <i>nil</i>. If I write about it now, it is only because I + hope that I may be able to make clearer the causes and + processes of such moral deterioration as exists, and thus to + help those who are trying to combat it, to do so with greater + understanding and sympathy.</p> + + <p>Even in England most officers, and all privates, are cut off + from their womenfolk. Mothers, sisters, wives, and sweethearts + are inaccessible. All have a certain amount of leisure, and + very little to do with it. + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page54" + id="page54"></a>[pg 54]</span> All are physically fit and + mentally rather unoccupied. All are living under an + unnatural discipline from which, when the last parade of the + day is over, there is a natural reaction. Finally, wherever + there are troops, and especially in war time, there are + "bad" women and weak women. The result is inevitable. A + certain number of both officers and men "go wrong."</p> + + <p>Fifteen months ago I was a private quartered in a camp near + Aldershot. After tea it began to get dark. The tent was damp, + gloomy, and cold. The Y.M.C.A. tent and the Canteen tent were + crowded. One wandered off to the town. The various soldiers' + clubs were filled and overflowing. The bars required more cash + than one possessed. The result was that one spent a large part + of one's evenings wandering aimlessly about the streets. + Fortunately I discovered an upper room in a Wesleyan soldiers' + home, where there was generally quiet, and an empty chair. + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page55" + id="page55"></a>[pg 55]</span> I shall always be grateful to + that "home," for the many hours which I whiled away there + with a book and a pipe. But most of us spent a great deal of + our leisure, bored and impecunious, "on the streets"; and if + a fellow ran up against "a bit of skirt," he was generally + just in the mood to follow it wherever it might lead. The + moral of this is, double your subscriptions to the Y.M.C.A., + Church huts, soldiers' clubs, or whatever organization you + fancy! You will be helping to combat vice in the only + sensible way.</p> + + <p>I don't suppose that the officers were much better off than + we were. Their tents may have been a little lighter and less + crowded than ours. They had a late dinner to occupy part of the + long evening. They had more money to spend, and perhaps more to + occupy their minds. But I fancy that as great a proportion of + them as of us took the false step; and though perhaps when they + compared notes their <span class="pagenum"><a name="page56" + id="page56"></a>[pg 56]</span> language may have been less + blunt than ours, I am not sure that, for this very reason, + it may not have been more poisonous. But mind you, we did + not all go wrong, by any means, though I believe that some + fellows did, both officers and men, who would not have done + so if they had stayed at home with their mothers, sisters, + sweethearts, or wives.</p> + + <p>So much for the Army at home. When we cross the Channel + every feature is a hundred times intensified. Consider the + fighting man in the trenches—and I am still speaking of + both officers and men—the most ordinary refinements of + life are conspicuously absent. There is no water to wash in. + Vermin abound, sleeping and eating accommodations are frankly + disgusting. One is obliged for the time to live like a pig. + Added to this one is all the time in a state of nervous + tension. One gets very little sleep. Every night has its + anxieties and responsibilities. Danger + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page57" + id="page57"></a>[pg 57]</span> or death may come at any + moment. So for a week or a fortnight or a month, as the case + may be. Then comes the return to billets, to comparative + safety and comfort—the latter nothing to boast about + though! Tension is relaxed. There is an inevitable reaction. + Officers and men alike determine to "gather rosebuds" while + they may. Their bodies are fit, their wills are relaxed. If + they are built that way, and an opportunity offers, they + will "satisfy the lusts of the flesh."</p> + + <p>When there is real fighting to be done the dangers of the + after-reaction are intensified. You who sit at home and read of + glorious bayonet charges do not realize what it means to the + man behind the bayonet. You don't realize the repugnance for + the first thrust—a repugnance which has got to be + overcome. You don't realize the change that comes over a man + when his bayonet is wet with the blood of his first enemy. He + "sees red." The primitive + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page58" + id="page58"></a>[pg 58]</span> "blood-lust," kept under all + his life by the laws and principles of peaceful society, + surges through his being, transforming him, maddening him + with the desire to kill, kill, kill! Ask any one who has + been through it if this is not true. And that letting loose + of a primitive lust is not going to be without its effect on + a man's character.</p> + + <p>At the same time, of course, not all of us become animals + out here. There are other influences at work. Caring for the + wounded, burying the mutilated dead, cause one to hate war, and + to value ten times more the ways of peace. Many are saved from + sinking in the scale, by a love of home which is able to bridge + the gulf which separates them from their beloved. The letters + of my platoon are largely love letters—often the love + letters of married men to their wives.</p> + + <p>There is immorality in the Army; when there is opportunity + immorality is rife. Possibly there is more abroad than there is + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page59" + id="page59"></a>[pg 59]</span> at home. If so it is because + there is far greater temptation. Nevertheless, I fancy that + my correspondent, who is a padre, a don, and at least the + beginning of a saint, is perhaps inclined to exaggerate the + extent of the evil in the Army as compared with civil life. + I imagine that very few padres, especially if they are dons, + and most of all if they are saints, realize that in civil + life as in Army life, the average man is immoral, both in + thought and deed. Let us be frank about this. What a doctor + might call the "appetites" and a padre the "lusts" of the + body, hold dominion over the average man, whether civilian + or soldier, unless they are counteracted by a stronger + power. The only men who are pure are those who are absorbed + in some pursuit, or possessed by a great love; be it the + love of clean, wholesome life which is religion, or the love + of a noble man which is hero-worship, or the love of a true + woman. These are the four powers + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page60" + id="page60"></a>[pg 60]</span> which are stronger than "the + flesh"—the zest of a quest, religion, hero-worship, + and the love of a good woman. If a man is not possessed by + one of these he will be immoral.</p> + + <p>Probably most men are immoral. The conditions of military, + and especially of active service merely intensify the + temptation. Unless a soldier is wholly devoted to the cause, or + powerfully affected by religion, or by hero-worship, or by pure + love, he is immoral.</p> + + <p>Perhaps most men are immoral if they get the chance. Most + soldiers are immoral if they get the chance. But those who are + trying to help the soldier can do so with a good heart if they + realize that in him they have a foundation on which to build. + Already he is half a hero-worshipper. Already he half believes + in the beauty of sacrifice and in the life immortal. Already he + is predisposed to value exceedingly all that savours of clean, + wholesome <span class="pagenum"><a name="page61" + id="page61"></a>[pg 61]</span> home life. On that foundation + it should be possible to build a strong idealism which shall + prevail against the flesh. And this is my last word—it + is by building up, and not by casting down, that the soldier + can be saved from degradation. The devil that possesses so + many can only be cast out by an angel that is stronger than + he.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page65" + id="page65"></a>[pg 65]</span> + <hr /> + <a name="III" + id="III"></a> + + <h2>III</h2> + + <h3>THE GOOD SIDE OF "MILITARISM"</h3> + + <p>I had a letter the other day from an Oxford friend. In it + was this phrase: "I loathe militarism in all its forms." + Somehow it took me back quite suddenly to the days before the + war, to ideas that I had almost completely forgotten. I suppose + that in those days the great feature of those of us who tried + to be "in the forefront of modern thought" was their riotous + egotism, their anarchical insistence on the claims of the + individual at the expense even of law, order, society, and + convention. "Self-realization" we considered to be the primary + duty of every man and woman.</p> + + <p>The wife who left her husband, children, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page66" + id="page66"></a>[pg 66]</span> and home because of her + passion for another man was a heroine, braving the + hypocritical judgments of society to assert the claims of + the individual soul. The woman who refused to abandon all + for love's sake, was not only a coward but a criminal, + guilty of the deadly sin of sacrificing her soul, committing + it to a prison where it would languish and never blossom to + its full perfection. The man who was bound to uncongenial + drudgery by the chains of an early marriage or aged parents + dependent on him, was the victim of a tragedy which drew + tears from our eyes. The woman who neglected her home + because she needed a "wider sphere" in which to develop her + personality was a champion of women's rights, a pioneer of + enlightenment. And, on the other hand, the people who went + on making the best of uncongenial drudgery, or in any way + subjected their individualities to what old-fashioned people + called <span class="pagenum"><a name="page67" + id="page67"></a>[pg 67]</span> duty, were in our eyes + contemptible poltroons.</p> + + <p>It was the same in politics and religion. To be loyal to a + party or obedient to a Church was to stand self-confessed a + fool or a hypocrite. Self-realization, that was in our eyes the + whole duty of man.</p> + + <p>And then I thought of what I had seen only a few days + before. First, of battalions of men marching in the darkness, + steadily and in step, towards the roar of the guns; destined in + the next twelve hours to charge as one man, without hesitation + or doubt, through barrages of cruel shell and storms of + murderous bullets. Then, the following afternoon, of a handful + of men, all that was left of about three battalions after ten + hours of fighting, a handful of men exhausted, parched, + strained, holding on with grim determination to the last bit of + German trench, until they should receive the order to + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page68" + id="page68"></a>[pg 68]</span> retire. And lastly, on the + days and nights following, of the constant streams of + wounded and dead being carried down the trench; of the + unceasing search that for three or four days was never + fruitless.</p> + + <p>Self-realization! How far we have travelled from the ideals + of those pre-war days. And as I thought things over I wondered + at how faint a response that phrase, "I loathe militarism in + all its forms," found in my own mind.</p> + + <p>Before the war I too hated "militarism." I despised soldiers + as men who had sold their birthright for a mess of pottage. The + sight of the Guards drilling in Wellington Barracks, moving as + one man to the command of their drill instructor, stirred me to + bitter mirth. They were not men but manikins. When I first + enlisted, and for many months afterwards, the "mummeries of + military discipline," the saluting, the meticulous uniformity, + the rigid suppression of individual + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page69" + id="page69"></a>[pg 69]</span> exuberance, chafed and + infuriated me. I compared it to a ritualistic religion, a + religion of authority only, which depended not on individual + assent but on tradition for its sanctions. I loathed + militarism in all its forms. Now ... well, I am inclined to + reconsider my judgment. Seeing the end of military + discipline, has shown me something of its ethical + meaning—more than that, of its spiritual meaning.</p> + + <p>For though the part of the "great push" that it fell to my + lot to see was not a successful part, it was none the less a + triumph—a spiritual triumph. From the accounts of the + ordinary war correspondent I think one hardly realizes how + great a spiritual triumph it was. For the war correspondent + only sees the outside, and can only describe the outside of + things. We who are in the Army, who know the men as + individuals, who have talked with them, joked with them, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page70" + id="page70"></a>[pg 70]</span> censored their letters, + worked with them, lived with them we see below the + surface.</p> + + <p>The war correspondent sees the faces of the men as they + march towards the Valley of the Shadow, sees the steadiness of + eye and mouth, hears the cheery jest. He sees them advance into + the Valley without flinching. He sees some of them return, + tired, dirty, strained, but still with a quip for the + passer-by. He gives us a picture of men without nerves, without + sensitiveness, without imagination, schooled to face death as + they would face rain or any trivial incident of everyday life. + The "Tommy" of the war correspondent is not a human being, but + a lay figure with a gift for repartee, little more than the + manikin that we thought him in those far-off days before the + war, when we watched him drilling on the barrack square. We + soldiers know better. We know that each one of those men is an + individual, full of human affections, many + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page71" + id="page71"></a>[pg 71]</span> of them writing tender + letters home every week, each one longing with all his soul + for the end of this hateful business of war which divides + him from all that he loves best in life. We know that every + one of these men has a healthy individual's repugnance to + being maimed, and a human shrinking from hurt and from the + Valley of the Shadow of Death.</p> + + <p>The knowledge of all this does not do away with the even + tread of the troops as they pass, the steady eye and mouth, the + cheery jest; but it makes these a hundred times more + significant. For we know that what these things signify is not + lack of human affection, or weakness, or want of imagination, + but something superimposed on these, to which they are wholly + subordinated. Over and above the individuality of each man, his + personal desires and fears and hopes, there is the corporate + personality of the soldier which knows no fear and only one + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page72" + id="page72"></a>[pg 72]</span> ambition—to defeat the + enemy, and so to further the righteous cause for which he is + fighting. In each of those men there is this dual + personality: the ordinary human ego that hates danger and + shrinks from hurt and death, that longs for home, and would + welcome the end of the war on any terms; and also the + stronger personality of the soldier who can tolerate but one + end to this war, cost what that may—the victory of + liberty and justice, and the utter abasement of brute + force.</p> + + <p>And when one looks back over the months of training that the + soldier has had, one recognizes how every feature of it, though + at the time it often seemed trivial and senseless and + irritating, was in reality directed to this end. For from the + moment that a man becomes a soldier his dual personality + begins. Henceforth he is both a man and a soldier. Before his + training is complete the order must + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page73" + id="page73"></a>[pg 73]</span> be reversed, and he must be a + soldier and a man. As a soldier he must obey and salute + those whom, as a man, he very likely dislikes and despises. + In his conduct he no longer only has to consider his + reputation as a man, but still more his honour as a soldier. + In all the conditions of his life, his dress, appearance, + food, drink, accommodation, and work, his individual + preferences count for nothing, his efficiency as a soldier + counts for everything. At first he "hates" this, and "can't + see the point of" that. But by the time his training is + complete he has realized that whether he hates a thing or + not, sees the point of a thing or not, is a matter of the + uttermost unimportance. If he is wise, he keeps his likes + and dislikes to himself.</p> + + <p>All through his training he is learning the unimportance of + his individuality, realizing that in a national, a world + crisis, it counts for nothing. On the other + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page74" + id="page74"></a>[pg 74]</span> hand, he is equally learning + that as a unit in a fighting force his every action is of + the utmost importance. The humility which the Army + inculcates is not an abject self-depreciation that leads to + loss of self-respect and effort. Substituted for the old + individualism is a new self-consciousness. The man has + become humble, but in proportion the soldier has become + exceeding proud. The old personal whims and ambitions give + place to a corporate ambition and purpose, and this unity of + will is symbolized in action by the simultaneous exactitude + of drill, and in dress by the rigid identity of uniform. + Anything which calls attention to the individual, whether in + drill or in dress, is a crime, because it is essential that + the soldier's individuality should be wholly subordinated to + the corporate personality of the regiment.</p> + + <p>As I said before, the personal humility of the soldier has + nothing in it of abject self-depreciation or slackness. On the + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page75" + id="page75"></a>[pg 75]</span> contrary, every detail of his + appearance, and every most trivial feature of his duty + assumes an immense significance. Slackness in his dress and + negligence in his work are military crimes. In a good + regiment the soldier is striving after perfection all the + time.</p> + + <p>And it is when he comes to the supreme test of battle that + the fruits of his training appear. The good soldier has learnt + the hardest lesson of all—the lesson of + self-subordination to a higher and bigger personality. He has + learnt to sacrifice everything which belongs to him + individually to a cause that is far greater than any personal + ambitions of his own can ever be. He has learnt to do this so + thoroughly that he knows no fear—for fear is personal. He + has learnt to "hate" father and mother and life itself for the + sake of—though he may not call it that—the Kingdom + of God on earth.</p> + + <p>It is a far cry from the old days when + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page76" + id="page76"></a>[pg 76]</span> one talked of + self-realization, isn't it? I make no claim to be a good + soldier; but I think that perhaps I may be beginning to be + one; for if I am asked now whether I "loathe militarism in + all its forms," I think that "the answer is in the + negative," I will even go farther, and say that I hope that + some of the discipline and self-subordination that have + availed to send men calmly to their death in war, will + survive in the days of peace, and make of those who are left + better citizens, better workmen, better servants of the + State, better Church + men.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page79" + id="page79"></a>[pg 79]</span> + <hr /> + <a name="IV" + id="IV"></a> + + <h2>IV</h2> + + <h3>A MONTH'S REFLECTIONS</h3> + + <p>Timothy and I are on detachment. We are billeted with M. le + Curé, and we mess at the schoolmaster's. Hence we are on good + terms with all parties, for of course a good schoolmaster + shrugs his shoulders at a priest, and a good priest returns the + compliment. In war time, however, the hatchet seems to be + buried pretty deep. We have not seen it sticking out + anywhere.</p> + + <p>M. le Curé has a beautiful rose garden, a cask of excellent + cider, a passable Sauterne, and a charming pony. He is a good + fellow, I should think, though without much education. His + house—or what I have seen of it—is the exact + opposite of what an English country vicar's would be. The + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page80" + id="page80"></a>[pg 80]</span> only sitting-room that I have + seen is as neat as an old maid's. There is a polished floor, + an oval polished table on which repose four large albums at + regular intervals, each on its own little mat. There is a + mantelpiece with gilt candlesticks and an ornate clock under + a glass dome. Round the walls are photographs of brother + clergy, the place of honour being assigned to a stout + <i>Chanoine</i>. The chairs are stiff and uncomfortable. One + of them, which is more imposing and uncomfortable than the + rest, is obviously for the Bishop when he comes. There are + no papers, no books, no ash-trays, no confusion. I have + never seen M. le Curé sit there. I fancy he lives in the + kitchen and in his garden.</p> + + <p>Timothy sleeps in the bed which the Bishop uses, and is told + he ought to feel <i>très saint</i>.</p> + + <p>The wife of the schoolmaster cooks for us. She is an + excellent soul. We give her full marks. She has a smile and an + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page81" + id="page81"></a>[pg 81]</span> omelette for every emergency, + and waves aside all Timothy's vagaries with "Ah, monsieur, + la jeunesse!" I am not sure that Timothy quite likes it!</p> + + <p>Timothy is immense. He is that rarest of birds, a wholly + delightful egotist. He is the sun, but we all bask and shine + with reflected glory. The men are splendid, because they are + his men. I am a great success because I am his subaltern. + Fortunately we all have a sense of humour and so are highly + pleased with ourselves and each other. After all, if one is a + Captain at twenty-two ...! But he's a good soldier, too, and we + all believe in him. Timothy's all right, in spite of <i>la + jeunesse</i>!</p> + <hr class="short" /> + + <p>Rain! The men are fifteen in a tent in a sea of mud. Poor + beggars! They are having a thin time. Working parties in the + trenches day and night; every one soaked to the skin; and then + a return <span class="pagenum"><a name="page82" + id="page82"></a>[pg 82]</span> to a damp, crowded, muddy + tent. No pay, no smokes, and yet they are wonderfully + cheery, and all think that the "Push" is going to end the + war. I wish I thought so!</p> + <hr class="short" /> + + <p>These rats are the limit! The dugout swarms with them. Last + night they ate half my biscuits and a good part of Timothy's + clean socks, and whenever I began to get to sleep one of them + would run across my face, or some other sensitive part of my + anatomy, and wake me up. I shall leave the candle alight + to-night, to see if that keeps them away.</p> + <hr class="short" /> + + <p>Last night the rats tried to eat the candle, and very nearly + set me on fire. If it were not for the rain I would try the + firestep.</p> + + <p>The men are having a rotten time again—no proper + shelter from the rain, and short rations, to say nothing of + remarkably good practice by the Boche artillery. + C——, <span class="pagenum"><a name="page83" + id="page83"></a>[pg 83]</span> just out from England, got + scuppered this afternoon. A good boy—made his + communion just before we came in. I suppose he didn't know + much about it, and that he is really better off now; but at + the same time it makes one angry.</p> + <hr class="short" /> + + <p>The rain has lifted, so last night I tried the firestep, and + got a good sleep. The absurd thing was that I couldn't wake up + properly. I came on duty at midnight, was roused, got to my + feet, and started to walk along the trench. And then the + Nameless Terror, that lurks in dark corners when one is a small + boy, gripped me. I was frightened of the dark, filled with a + sense of impending disaster! It took about ten minutes to wake + properly and shake it off. I must try to get more sleep + somehow; but it is jolly difficult.</p> + <hr class="short" /> + + <p>The great bombardment has begun, the long-promised strafing + of the Boche. According <span class="pagenum"><a name="page84" + id="page84"></a>[pg 84]</span> to the gunners they will all + be dead, buried, or dazed when the time comes for us to go + over the top. I doubt it! If they have enough deep dug-outs + I don't fancy that the bombardment will worry them very + much.</p> + <hr class="short" /> + + <p>Now we are at rest for a day or two before the Push. I am to + be left out—in charge of carriers. Damn! I might as well + be A.S.C. I see myself counting ration bags while the battalion + is charging with fixed bayonets; and in the evening sending up + parties of weary laden carriers over shell-swept areas, while I + myself stay behind at the Dump. Damn! Damn!! Damn!!! Then I + shall receive ironical congratulations on my "cushy" job.</p> + <hr class="short" /> + + <p>Have just seen the battalion off. I don't start for another + five hours. I loathe war. It is futile, idiotic. I would gladly + be out of the Army to-morrow. Glory is a + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page85" + id="page85"></a>[pg 85]</span> painted idol, honour a + phantasy, religion a delusion. We wallow in blood and + torture to please a creature of our imagination. We are no + better than South Sea Islanders.</p> + <hr class="short" /> + + <p>Just here the attack was a failure. When I got to the Dump I + found the battalion still there. By an irony of fate I was the + only officer of my company to set foot in the German lines. + After a day of idleness and depression I had to detail a party + to carry bombs at top speed to some relics of the leading + battalions, who were still clinging to the extremest corner of + the enemy's front line some distance to our left. Being fed up + with inaction, I took the party myself. It was a long way. The + trenches were choked with wounded and stragglers and troops who + had never been ordered to advance. In many places they were + broken down by shell-fire, in others they were waist-deep in + water. By dint of much shouting and shoving and cursing I + managed <span class="pagenum"><a name="page86" + id="page86"></a>[pg 86]</span> to get through with about ten + of my men, but had to leave the others to follow with a + sergeant.</p> + + <p>At last we sighted our objective, a cluster of chalk mounds + surrounded with broken wire, shell craters, corpses, wreathed + in smoke, dotted with men. I think we all ran across the ground + between our front line and our objective, though it must have + been more or less dead ground. Anyhow, only one man was hit. + When we got close the scene was absurdly like a conventional + battle picture—the sort of picture that one never + believes in for a minute. There was a wild mixture of + regiments—Jocks, Irishmen, Territorials, etc., etc. There + was no proper trench left. There were rifles, a machine gun, a + Lewis rifle, and bombs all going at the same time. There were + wounded men sitting in a kind of helpless stupor; there were + wounded trying to drag themselves back to our own lines; there + were the dead of whom no one took any notice. But the + prevailing <span class="pagenum"><a name="page87" + id="page87"></a>[pg 87]</span> note was one of utter + weariness coupled with dogged tenacity.</p> + + <p>Here and there were men who were self-conscious, wondering + what would become of themselves. I was one of them, and we were + none the better for it. Most of the fellows, though, had + forgotten themselves. They no longer flinched, or feared. They + had got beyond that. They were just set on clinging to that + mound and keeping the Huns at bay until their officer gave the + word to retire. Their spirit was the spirit of the oarsman, the + runner, or the footballer, who has strained himself to the + utmost, who if he stopped to wonder whether he could go on or + not would collapse; but who, because he does not stop to + wonder, goes on miraculously long after he should, by all the + laws of nature, have succumbed to sheer exhaustion.</p> + + <p>Having delivered my bombs into eager hands, I reported to + the officer who seemed to be in charge, and asked if I could do + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page88" + id="page88"></a>[pg 88]</span> anything. I must frankly + admit that my one hope was that he would not want me to + stay. He began to say how that morning he had reached his + objective, and how for lack of support on his flank, for + lack of bombs, for lack of men, he had been forced back; and + how for eight hours he had disputed every inch of ground + till now his men could only cling to these mounds with the + dumb mechanical tenacity of utter exhaustion. "You might go + to H.Q.," he said at last, "and tell them where I am, and + that I can't hold on without ammunition and a barrage."</p> + + <p>I am afraid that I went with joy on that errand. I did not + want to stay on those chalk mounds.</p> + <hr class="short" /> + + <p>I only saw a very little bit of the battle. Thank God it has + gone well elsewhere; but here we are where we started. Day and + night we have done nothing but bring in the wounded and the + dead. When one sees <span class="pagenum"><a name="page89" + id="page89"></a>[pg 89]</span> the dead, their limbs crushed + and mangled, their features distorted and blackened, one can + only have repulsion for war. It is easy to talk of glory and + heroism when one is away from it, when memory has softened + the gruesome details. But here, in the presence of the + mutilated and tortured dead, one can only feel the horror + and wickedness of war. Indeed it is an evil harvest, sown of + pride and arrogance and lust of power. Maybe through all + this evil and pain we shall be purged of many sins. God + grant it! If ever there were martyrs, some of these were + martyrs, facing death and torture as ghastly as any that + confronted the saints of old, and facing it with but little + of that fierce fanatical exaltation of faith that the early + Christians had to help them.</p> + + <p>For these were mostly quiet souls, loving their wives and + children and the little comforts of home life most of all, + little stirred by great emotions or passions. Yet they had + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page90" + id="page90"></a>[pg 90]</span> some love for liberty, some + faith in God,—not a high and flaming passion, but a + quiet insistent conviction. It was enough to send them out + to face martyrdom, though their lack of imagination left + them mercifully ignorant of the extremity of its terrors. It + was enough, when they saw their danger in its true + perspective, to keep them steadfast and tenacious.</p> + + <p>For them "it is finished." + <i>R.I.P.</i></p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page93" + id="page93"></a>[pg 93]</span> + <hr /> + <a name="V" + id="V"></a> + + <h2>V</h2> + + <h3>ROMANCE</h3> + + <p>I suppose that there are very few officers or men who have + been at the front for any length of time who would not be + secretly, if not openly, relieved and delighted if they "got a + cushy one" and found themselves <i>en route</i> for "Blighty"; + yet in many ways soldiering at the front is infinitely + preferable to soldiering at home. One of the factors which + count most heavily in favour of the front, is the extraordinary + affection of officers for their men.</p> + + <p>In England, officers hardly know their men. They live apart, + only meet on parade, and their intercourse is carried on + through the prescribed channels. Even if you do get keen on a + particular squad of <span class="pagenum"><a name="page94" + id="page94"></a>[pg 94]</span> recruits, or a particular + class of would-be bombers, you lose them so soon that your + enthusiasm never ripens into anything like intimacy. But at + the front you have your own platoon; and week after week, + month after month, you are living in the closest proximity; + you see them all day, you get to know the character of each + individual man and boy, and the result in nearly every case + is this extraordinary affection of which I have spoken.</p> + + <p>You will find it in the most unlikely subjects. I have heard + a Major, a Regular with, as I thought, a good deal of + regimental stiffness, talk about his men with a voice almost + choked with emotion. "When you see what they have to put up + with, and how amazingly cheery they are through it all, you + feel that you can't do enough for them. They make you feel that + you're not fit to black their boots." And then he went on to + tell how it was often the fellows whom in England you had + despaired of, fellows who + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page95" + id="page95"></a>[pg 95]</span> were always "up at orders," + who out at the front became your right-hand men, the men on + whom you found yourself relying.</p> + + <p>I had a letter not long ago from a gunner Captain, also a + Regular, who has been out almost since the beginning of the + war. He wrote: "One of my best friends has just been killed"; + and the "best friend" was not the fellow he had known at "the + shop," or played polo with in India, or hunted with in Ireland, + but a scamp of a telephonist, who had stolen his whisky and + owned up; who had risked his life for him, who had been a + fellow-sportsman who could be relied on in a tight corner in + the most risky of all games.</p> + + <p>There is indeed a glamour and a pathos about the private + soldier, especially when, as so often happens, he is really + only a boy. When you meet him in the trenches, wet, covered + with mud, with tired eyes speaking of long watches and hours of + risky work, he never fails to greet you + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page96" + id="page96"></a>[pg 96]</span> with a smile, and you love + him for it, and feel that nothing you can do can make up to + him for it. For you have slept in a much more comfortable + place than he has. You have had unlimited tobacco and + cigarettes. You have had a servant to cook for you. You have + fared sumptuously compared with him. You don't feel his + superior. You don't want to be "gracious without undue + familiarity." Exactly what you want to do is a bit + doubtful—the Major said he wanted to black his boots + for him, and that is perhaps the best way of expressing + it.</p> + + <p>When he goes over the top and works away in front of the + parapet with the moon shining full and the machine guns busy + all along; when he gets back to billets, and throws off his + cares and bathes and plays games like any irresponsible + schoolboy; even when he breaks bounds and is found by the M.P. + skylarking in ——, you can't help loving him. Most + of all, <span class="pagenum"><a name="page97" + id="page97"></a>[pg 97]</span> when he lies still and white + with a red stream trickling from where the sniper's bullet + has made a hole through his head, there comes a lump in your + throat that you can't swallow; and you turn away so that you + shan't have to wipe the tears from your eyes.</p> + + <p>Gallant souls, those boys, and all the more gallant because + they hate war so much. Their nerves quiver when a shell or a + "Minnie" falls into the trench near them, and then they smile + to hide their weakness. They hate going over the parapet when + the machine guns are playing; so they don't hesitate, but + plunge over with a smile to hide their fears. Their cure for + every mental worry is a smile, their answer to every prompting + of fear is a plunge. They have no philosophy or fanaticism to + help them—only the sporting instinct which is in every + healthy British boy.</p> + + <p>Then there are "the old men," less attractive, less stirring + to the imagination, <span class="pagenum"><a name="page98" + id="page98"></a>[pg 98]</span> less sensitive, but who grow + upon you more and more as you get to know them. Any one over + twenty-three or so is an "old man." They have lost the + grace, the irresponsibility, the sensibility of youth. Their + eyes and mouths are steadier, their movements more + deliberate. But they are the fellows whom you would choose + for a patrol, or a raid, where a cool head and a stout heart + are what is wanted. It takes you longer to know these. They + are less responsive to your advances. But when you have + tested them and they have tested you, you know that you have + that which is stronger than any terror of night or day, a + loyalty which nothing can shake.</p> + + <p>And then when he thinks how little he deserves all this love + and loyalty, the subaltern's heart aches with a feeling that + can find no expression either in word or deed.</p> + + <p>This is a tale that has often been told, and that people in + England know by <span class="pagenum"><a name="page99" + id="page99"></a>[pg 99]</span> heart. It cannot be told too + often. It cannot be learnt too well. For the time will come + when we shall need to remember it, and when it will be easy + to forget. Will you remember it, O ye people, when the boy + has become a man, and the soldier has become a workman? But + there are other tales to tell. There are the tales of the + sergeant-major and the sergeants, the corporals and the + "lance-jacks." Sergeant-majors, sergeants, and corporals are + not romantic figures. If you think of them at all, you + probably think of rumjars and profanity. Yet they are the + very backbone of the Army. I have been a sergeant and I have + been a private soldier, and I know that the latter has much + the better time of the two. He at least has the kind of + liberty which belongs to utter irresponsibility. If he + breaks bounds in the exuberance of his spirits, no one + thinks much worse of him as long as he does not make a song + about paying the + penalty!</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page100" + id="page100"></a>[pg 100]</span> + + <p>Of course he has to be punished. So many days of sleeping in + the guard tent, extra fatigues, pack-drill, and perhaps a + couple of hours tied up, as an example to evil-doers. But if he + has counted the cost, and pays the price with a grin, we just + say "Young scamp!" and dismiss the matter. But if a sergeant or + a corporal does the same, that's a very different matter. He + has shown himself unfit for his job. He has betrayed a trust. + We cannot forgive him. Responsibility has its disadvantages. + The senior N.C.O. gets no relaxation from discipline. In the + line and out of it he must always be watchful, self-controlled, + orderly. He must never wink. These men have not the glamour of + the boy private; but their high sense of duty and discipline, + their keenness and efficiency, merit all the honour that we can + give them.</p> + + <p>Finally—for it would not do for a subaltern to discuss + his superiors—we come + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page101" + id="page101"></a>[pg 101]</span> to the junior officer. + Somehow I fancy that in the public eye he too is a less + romantic figure than the private. One does not associate him + with privations and hardships, but with parcels from home. + Well, it is quite right. He has such a much less + uncomfortable time than his men that he does not deserve or + want sympathy on that score. He is better off in every way. + He has better quarters, better food, more kit, a servant, + and in billets far greater liberty. And yet there is many a + man who is now an officer who looks back on his days as a + private with regret. Could he have his time over again ... + yes, he would take a commission; but he would do so, not + with any thought for the less hardship of it, but from a + stern sense of duty—the sense of duty which does not + allow a man with any self-respect to refuse to shoulder a + heavier burden when called upon to do so.</p> + + <p>Those apparently irresponsible subalterns + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page102" + id="page102"></a>[pg 102]</span> whom you see entertaining + their lady friends at the Canton or Ciro's do, when they are + at the front, have very heavy responsibilities. Even in the + ordinary routine of trench life, so many decisions have to + be made, with the chance of a "telling off" whichever way + you choose, and the lives of other men hanging in the + balance. Suppose you are detailed for a wiring party, and + you arrive to find a full moon beaming sardonically down at + you. What are you to do? If you go out you may be seen. Half + a dozen of your men may be mown down by a machine gun. You + will be blamed and will blame yourself for not having + decided to remain behind the parapet. If you do not go out + you may set a precedent, and night after night the work will + be postponed, till at last it is too late, and the Hun has + got through, and raided the trench. If you hesitate or ask + advice you are lost. You have to make up your mind in an + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page103" + id="page103"></a>[pg 103]</span> instant, and to stand by + it. If you waver your men will never have confidence in you + again.</p> + + <p>Still more in a push; a junior subaltern is quite likely to + find himself at any time in command of a company, while he may + for a day even have to command the relics of a battalion. I + have seen boys almost fresh from a Public School in whose faces + there were two personalities expressed: the one full of the + lighthearted, reckless, irresponsible vitality of boyhood, and + the other scarred with the anxious lines of one to whom a + couple of hundred exhausted and nerve-shattered men have + looked, and not looked in vain, for leadership and strength in + their grim extremity. From a boy in such a position is required + something far more difficult than personal courage. If we + praise the boy soldier for his smile in the face of shells and + machine guns, don't let us forget to praise still more the boy + officer who, in addition to facing death on + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page104" + id="page104"></a>[pg 104]</span> his own account, has to + bear the responsibility of the lives of a hundred other men. + There is many a man of undoubted courage whose nerve would + fail to bear that strain.</p> + + <p>A day or two ago I was reading <i>Romance</i>, by Joseph + Conrad and Ford Madox Hueffer. It is a glorious tale of piracy + and adventure in the West Indies; but for the moment I wondered + how it came about that Conrad, the master of psychology, should + have helped to write such a book. And then I understood. For + these boys who hate the war, and suffer and endure with the + smile that is sometimes so difficult, and long with a great + longing for home and peace—some day some of them will + look back on these days and will tell themselves that after all + it was Romance, the adventure, which made their lives worth + while. And they will long to feel once again the stirring of + the old comradeship and love and loyalty, to dip their + clasp-knives into the same pot of jam, and + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page105" + id="page105"></a>[pg 105]</span> lie in the same dug-out, + and work on the same bit of wire with the same machine gun + striking secret terror into their hearts, and look into each + other's eyes for the same courageous smile. For Romance, + after all, is woven of the emotions, especially the + elemental ones of love and loyalty and fear and pain.</p> + + <p>We men are never content! In the dull routine of normal life + we sigh for Romance, and sometimes seek to create it + artificially, stimulating spurious passions, plunging into + muddy depths in search of it. Now we have got it we sigh for a + quiet life. But some day those who have not died will say: + "Thank God I have lived! I have loved, and endured, and + trembled, and trembling, dared. I have had my + Romance."</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page109" + id="page109"></a>[pg 109]</span> + <hr /> + <a name="VI" + id="VI"></a> + + <h2>VI</h2> + + <h3>IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS</h3> + + <h4>I</h4> + + <blockquote> + <p>SCENE. <i>A field in Flanders. All round the edge are + bivouacs, built of sticks and waterproof sheets. Three men + are squatting round a small fire, waiting for a couple of + mess-tins of water to boil</i>.</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>BILL (<i>gloomily</i>). The last three of the old lot! + Oo's turn next?</p> + + <p>FRED. Wot's the bleedin' good of bein' dahn in the mahf + abaht it? Give me the bleedin' 'ump, you do.</p> + + <p>JIM. Are we dahn-'earted? Not 'alf, we + ain't!</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page110" + id="page110"></a>[pg 110]</span> + + <p>BILL. I don't know as I cares. Git it over, I sez. 'Ave + done wiv it! I dessay as them wot's gone West is better off + nor wot we are, arter all.</p> + + <p>JIM. Orlright, old sport, you go an' look for the V.C., + and we'll pick up the bits an' bury 'em nice an' deep!</p> + + <p>BILL. If this 'ere bleedin' war don't finish soon that's + wot I bleedin' well will go an' do. Wish they'd get a move + on an' finish it.</p> + + <p>FRED. If ever I gets 'ome agin, I'll never do another + stroke in my natural. The old woman can keep me, + —— 'er, an' if she don't + I'll—well—'er —— + ——.</p> + + <p>JIM (<i>indignantly</i>). Nice sort o' bloke you are! + Arter creatin' abaht ole Bill makin' you miserable, you + goes on to plan 'ow you'll make other folks miserable! + Wot's the bleedin' good o' that? Keep smilin', I sez, an' + keep other folks smilin' too, if you can. If ever I gets + 'ome I'll go dahn on my bended, I will, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page111" + id="page111"></a>[pg 111]</span> and I'll be a different + sort o' bloke to wot I been afore. Swelp me, Bob, I + will! My missus won't 'ave no cause to wish as I've been + done in.</p> + + <p>BILL. Ah well, it don't much matter. We're all most like + to go afore this war's finished.</p> + + <p>JIM. If yer goes yer goes, and that's all abaht it. A + bloke's got to go some day, and fer myself I'd as soon get + done in doin' my dooty as I would die in my bed. I ain't + struck on dyin' afore my time, and I don't know as I'm + greatly struck on livin', but, whichever it is, you got ter + make the best on it.</p> + + <p>BILL (<i>meditatively</i>). I woulden mind stoppin' a + bullet fair an' square; but I woulden like one of them + 'orrible lingerin' deaths. "Died o' wounds" arter six + munfs' mortal hagony—that's wot gets at me. Git it + over an' done wiv, I sez.</p> + + <p>FRED (<i>querulously</i>). Ow, chuck it, Bill. You gives + me the creeps, you + do.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page112" + id="page112"></a>[pg 112]</span> + + <p>JIM. I knowed a bloke onest in civil life wot died a + lingerin' death. Lived in the second-floor back in the same + 'ouse as me an' my missus, 'e did. Suffered somefink' + 'orrible, 'e did, an' lingered more nor five year. Yet I + reckon 'e was one o' the best blokes as ever I come acrost. + Went to 'eaven straight, 'e did, if ever any one did. + Wasn't 'alf glad ter go, neither. "I done my bit of 'ell, + Jim," 'e sez to me, an' looked that 'appy you'd a' thought + as 'e was well agin. Shan't never forget 'is face, I + shan't. An' I'd sooner be that bloke, for all 'is + sufferin's, than I'd be old Fred 'ere, an' live to a + 'undred.</p> + + <p>BILL (<i>philosophically</i>). You'm right, matey. This + is a wale o' tears, as the 'ymn sez, and them as is out on + it is best off, if so be as they done their dooty in that + state o' life.... Where's the corfee, Jim? The water's on + the bile.</p> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page115" + id="page115"></a>[pg 115]</span> + <hr /> + <a name="VII" + id="VII"></a> + + <h2>VII</h2> + + <h3>THE FEAR OF DEATH IN WAR</h3> + + <p>I am not a psychologist, and I have not seen many people die + in their beds; but I think it is established that very few + people are afraid of a natural death when it comes to the test. + Often they are so weak that they are incapable of emotion. + Sometimes they are in such physical pain that death seems a + welcome deliverer.</p> + + <p>But a violent death such as death in battle is obviously a + different matter. It comes to a man when he is in the full + possession of his health and vigour, and when every physical + instinct is urging him to self-preservation. If a man feared + death in such circumstances one could not be surprised, and yet + in the present war <span class="pagenum"><a name="page116" + id="page116"></a>[pg 116]</span> hundreds of thousands of + men have gone to meet practically certain destruction + without giving a sign of terror.</p> + + <p>The fact is that at the moment of a charge men are in an + absolutely abnormal condition.</p> + + <p>I do not know how to describe their condition in scientific + terms; but there is a sensation of tense excitement combined + with a sort of uncanny calm. Their emotions seem to be numbed. + Noises, sights, and sensations which would ordinarily produce + intense pity, horror, or dread, have no effect on them at all, + and yet never was their mind clearer, their sight, hearing, + etc., more acute. They notice all sorts of little details which + would ordinarily pass them by, but which now thrust themselves + on their attention with absurd definiteness—absurd + because so utterly incongruous and meaningless. Or they + suddenly remember with extraordinary clearness some trivial + incident of their past life, hitherto unremembered, and not a + bit worth <span class="pagenum"><a name="page117" + id="page117"></a>[pg 117]</span> remembering! But with the + issue before them, with victory or death or the prospect of + eternity, their minds blankly refuse to come to grips.</p> + + <p>No; it is not at the moment of a charge that men fear death. + As in the case of those who die in bed, Nature has an + anesthetic ready for the emergency. It is before an attack that + a man is more liable to fear—before his blood is hot, and + while he still has leisure to think. The trouble may begin a + day or two in advance, when he is first told of the attack + which is likely to mean death to himself and so many of his + chums. This part is comparatively easy. It is fairly easy to be + philosophic if one has plenty of time. One indulges in regrets + about the home one may never see again. One is rather sorry for + oneself; but such self-pity is not wholly unpleasant. One feels + mildly heroic, which is not wholly disagreeable either. Very + few men are afraid of death in the abstract. Very few men + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page118" + id="page118"></a>[pg 118]</span> believe in hell, or are + tortured by their consciences. They are doubtful about + after-death, hesitating between a belief in eternal oblivion + and a belief in a new life under the same management as the + present; and neither prospect fills them with terror. If + only one's "people" would be sensible, one would not + mind.</p> + + <p>But as the hour approaches when the attack is due to be + launched the strain becomes more tense. The men are probably + cooped up in a very small space. Movement is very restricted. + Matches must not be struck. Voices must be hushed to a whisper. + Shells bursting and machine guns rattling bring home the grim + reality of the affair. It is then more than at any other time + in an attack that a man has to "face the spectres of the mind," + and lay them if he can. Few men care for those hours of + waiting.</p> + + <p>Of all the hours of dismay that come to a soldier there are + really few more trying to + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page119" + id="page119"></a>[pg 119]</span> the nerves than when he is + sitting in a trench under heavy fire from high-explosive + shells or bombs from trench mortars. You can watch these + bombs lobbed up into the air. You see them slowly wobble + down to earth, there to explode with a terrific detonation + that sets every nerve in your body a-jangling. You can do + nothing. You cannot retaliate in any way. You simply have to + sit tight and hope for the best. Some men joke and smile; + but their mirth is forced. Some feign stoical indifference, + and sit with a paper and a pipe; but as a rule their pipes + are out and their reading a pretence. There are few men, + indeed, whose hearts are not beating faster, and whose + nerves are not on edge.</p> + + <p>But you can't call this "the fear of death"; it is a purely + physical reaction of danger and detonation. It is not fear of + death as death. It is not fear of hurt as hurt. It is an + infinitely intensified dislike of suspense and uncertainty, + sudden noise <span class="pagenum"><a name="page120" + id="page120"></a>[pg 120]</span> and shock. It belongs + wholly to the physical organism, and the only cure that I + know is to make an act of personal dissociation from the + behaviour of one's flesh. Your teeth may chatter and your + knees quake, but as long as the real you disapproves and + derides this absurdity of the flesh, the composite you can + carry on. Closely allied to the sensation of nameless dread + caused by high explosives is that caused by gas. No one can + carry out a relief in the trenches without a certain anxiety + and dread if he knows that the enemy has gas cylinders in + position and that the wind is in the east. But this, again, + is not exactly the fear of death; but much more a physical + reaction to uncertainty and suspense combined with the + threat of physical suffering.</p> + + <p>Personally, I believe that very few men indeed fear death. + The vast majority experience a more or less violent physical + shrinking from the pain of death and + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page121" + id="page121"></a>[pg 121]</span> wounds, especially when + they are obliged to be physically inactive, and when they + have nothing else to think about. This kind of dread is, in + the case of a good many men, intensified by darkness and + suspense, and by the deafening noise and shock that + accompany the detonation of high explosives. But it cannot + properly be called the fear of death, and it is a purely + physical reaction which can be, and nearly always is, + controlled by the mind.</p> + + <p>Last of all there is the repulsion and loathing for the + whole business of war, with its bloody ruthlessness, its + fiendish ingenuity, and its insensate cruelty, that comes to a + man after a battle, when the tortured and dismembered dead lie + strewn about the trench, and the wounded groan from + No-Man's-Land. But neither is that the fear of death. It is a + repulsion which breeds hot anger more often than cold fear, + reckless hatred of life more often than abject clinging to + it.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page122" + id="page122"></a>[pg 122]</span> + + <p>The cases where any sort of fear, even for a moment, obtains + the mastery of a man are very rare. Sometimes in the case of a + boy, whose nerves are more sensitive than a man's, and whose + habit of self-control is less formed, a sudden shock will upset + his mental balance. Sometimes a very egotistical man will + succumb to danger long drawn out. The same applies to men who + are very introspective. I have seen a man of obviously low + intelligence break down on the eve of an attack. The + anticipation of danger makes many men "windy," especially + officers who are responsible for other lives than their own. + But even where men are afraid it is generally not death that + they fear. Their fear is a physical and instinctive shrinking + from hurt, shock, and the unknown, which instinct obtains the + mastery only through surprise, or through the exhaustion of the + mind and will, or through a man being excessively self-centred. + It is not the <span class="pagenum"><a name="page123" + id="page123"></a>[pg 123]</span> fear of death rationally + considered; but an irrational physical instinct which all + men possess, but which almost all can + control.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page127" + id="page127"></a>[pg 127]</span> + <hr /> + <a name="VIII" + id="VIII"></a> + + <h2>VIII</h2> + + <h3>IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS</h3> + + <h4>II</h4> + + <blockquote> + <p>SCENE. <i>A dug-out in a wood somewhere in Flanders. + Officers at tea.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>HANCOCK. Damned glad to be out of that infernal firing + trench, anyway. (<i>A dull report is heard in the + distance.</i>) There goes another torpedo! Wonder who's + copt it this time!</p> + + <p>SMITH. For Christ's sake talk about something else!</p> + + <p>HANCOCK (<i>ignoring him</i>). Are we coming back to the + same trenches, sir?</p> + + <p>CAPTAIN DODD. 'Spect so.</p> + + <p>HANCOCK. At the present rate we shall + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page128" + id="page128"></a>[pg 128]</span> last another two + spells. I hate this sort of bisnay. You go on month + after month losing fellows the whole time, and at the + end of it you're exactly where you started. I wish + they'd get a move on.</p> + + <p>WHISTON. Tired of life?</p> + + <p>HANCOCK. If you call this life, yes! If this damned war + is going on another two years, I hope to God I don't live + to see the end of it.</p> + + <p>SMITH. If ever I get home ...!</p> + + <p>WHISTON. Well?</p> + + <p>SMITH. Won't I paint the town red, that's all!</p> + + <p>WHISTON. If ever I get home ... well, I guess I'll go + home. No more razzle-dazzle for master! No, there's a + little girl awaiting, and I know she thinks of me. Shan't + wait any longer.</p> + + <p>HANCOCK (<i>heavily</i>). Don't think a chap's got any + right to marry a girl under present circs. It's ten to one + she's a widow before she's a + mother.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page129" + id="page129"></a>[pg 129]</span> + + <p>SMITH. Oh, shut up!</p> + + <p>CAPTAIN DODD (<i>gently</i>). To some women the kid + would be just the one thing that made life bearable.</p> + + <p>HANCOCK (<i>reddening</i>). Sorry, sir; forgot you'd + just done it. Course you're right. Depends absolutely on + the girl.</p> + + <p>CAPTAIN DODD. Thanks. I say, Whiston, I'm going to + B.H.Q. Care to come along?</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>They go out together.</i>)</p> + + <p>SCENE. <i>A path through a wood</i>. CAPTAIN DODD + <i>and</i> WHISTON <i>walking together, followed by a</i> + LANCE-CORPORAL.</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>DODD. D'you believe in presentiments, Whiston?</p> + + <p>WHISTON (<i>doubtfully</i>). A year ago I should have + laughed at you for asking. Now ...</p> + + <p>DODD. More things in heaven and earth + ...?</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page130" + id="page130"></a>[pg 130]</span> + + <p>WHISTON. My rationalism is always being upset!</p> + + <p>DODD. How exactly?</p> + + <p>WHISTON. For instance, I simply can't believe that old + John is finished. Can you?</p> + + <p>DODD (<i>quietly</i>). No.</p> + + <p>WHISTON. Funny thing. As far as I'm concerned I can + quite imagine myself just snuffing out. You can put one + word on my grave, if I have one—"Napu." But as for + John, no. I want something else. Something about Death + being scored off after all.</p> + + <p>DODD. I know. "O Death, where is thy sting? O Grave, + where is thy victory?"</p> + + <p>WHISTON. Just that. Mind you, I don't think I'm afraid + of Death. I don't want to get killed. But if I saw him + coming I think I could smile, and feel that after all he + wasn't getting much of a bargain. But the idea of his + getting old John sticks in my gullet. I believe in + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page131" + id="page131"></a>[pg 131]</span> all sorts of things for + him. Resurrection and life and Heaven, and all that.</p> + + <p>DODD. What do you think about it, Corporal?</p> + + <p>LANCE-CORPORAL. Same as Mr. Whiston, sir.</p> + + <p>WHISTON. But what about presentiments?</p> + + <p>DODD. Oh, I don't know. Funny thing; but all through + this fortnight I've been absolutely certain that I was not + for it.</p> + + <p>LANCE-CORPORAL. Beg pardon, sir, we noticed that, + sir!</p> + + <p>WHISTON. Well, it's practically over now.</p> + + <p>DODD. I'm not so sure. I'm not in a funk, you know. It's + simply that I don't feel so sure.</p> + + <p>WHISTON. Oh, rot, sir! I don't believe in that sort of + presentiment.</p> + + <p>DODD. What do you think, Corporal?</p> + + <p>LANCE-CORPORAL. I think you goes when your time comes, + sir. But it won't <span class="pagenum"><a name="page132" + id="page132"></a>[pg 132]</span> come to-night, sir. Not + after all we been through this spell, and the spell just + finished.</p> + + <p>DODD. I believe you're right, Corporal. We shall go when + our time comes, and not before. I like that idea, you know. + It means one hasn't got to worry.</p> + + <p>WHISTON. If it means that you go on as you've done the + last fortnight, it's a damnable doctrine, sir. You've no + business to go taking unnecessary risks simply because + you've got bitten by Mohammedanism.</p> + + <p>DODD (<i>thoughtfully</i>). You're right, too, Whiston. + "Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God." One shouldn't take + unnecessary risks. Mind you, I don't admit that I have. It + just enables one to do one's job with a quiet mind, that's + all.</p> + </div> + + <h4>TWO DAYS LATER</h4> + + <blockquote> + <p>SCENE. <i>A billet.</i> HANCOCK <i>and</i> SMITH.</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>HANCOCK. + Damn!</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page133" + id="page133"></a>[pg 133]</span> + + <p>SMITH. What's up? Aren't you satisfied? The brigade's + bound to go back and re-form now, and that means that we + shan't be in the trenches for a couple of months at least. + We may even go where there's a pretty girl or two. My + word!</p> + + <p>HANCOCK. Damnation!</p> + + <p>SMITH (<i>genuinely astonished</i>). What the hell's + wrong? Any one would think you liked the trenches! + Personally, I don't care if I never see them again. + England's full of nice young, bright young things crying to + get out. Let 'em all come! They can have my job and + welcome!</p> + + <p>HANCOCK (<i>to himself</i>). God! Why Dodd and Whiston? + Why, why, why? Why not me? Why just the fellows we can't + afford to lose?</p> + + <p>SMITH. Oh, for God's sake stow it! What the hell's the + good of going on like that? Of course I'm sorry for them + and all that. But I don't see that it's going to help them + to make oneself miserable about + it.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page134" + id="page134"></a>[pg 134]</span> + + <p>HANCOCK (<i>fiercely</i>). Sorry for them! It's not them + I'm sorry for! They ... they're the lucky ones! God! I + suppose that's the answer! They'd earned it!</p> + + <p>SMITH (<i>satirically</i>). Have you turned pi? We shall + have you saying the prayers that you learnt at your + mother's knee next, I suppose! I shall have to tell the + Padre, and he'll preach a sermon about it! I should never + have thought you would have been <i>frightened</i> into + religion!</p> + + <p>HANCOCK. Frightened! You little swine! <i>You</i> talk + about being frightened after last night! I tell you I'd + rather be lying out there with Dodd and Whiston than be + sitting here with you. Frightened into religion!</p> + + <p>SMITH. Oh, I suppose you're the next candidate for death + or glory! Good luck to you! I'm not competing. I'll do my + job; but I'm not going to make a fool of myself. Dodd and + Whiston deserved all they got. You're right there. You'll + get <span class="pagenum"><a name="page135" + id="page135"></a>[pg 135]</span> what you deserve some + day, I expect! Don't look at me like that. I've said I'm + sorry, and all that. But it's the truth I'm speaking, + all the same.</p> + + <p>HANCOCK. And you'll get what you deserve too, I suppose, + which is to live in your own company till the end of your + miserable existence. I won't deprive you of your reward + more than I can help, I promise you!</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(HANCOCK <i>goes out.</i>)</p> + </blockquote><span class="pagenum"><a name="page139" + id="page139"></a>[pg 139]</span> + <hr /> + <a name="IX" + id="IX"></a> + + <h2>IX</h2> + + <h3>THE WISDOM OF "A STUDENT IN ARMS"</h3> + + <p>It is no good trying to fathom "things" to the bottom; they + have not got one.</p> + + <p>Knowledge is always descriptive, and never fundamental. We + can describe the appearance and conditions of a process; but + not the way of it.</p> + + <p>Agnosticism is a fundamental fact. It is the starting-point + of the wise man who has discovered that it needs eternity to + study infinity.</p> + + <p>Agnosticism, however, is no excuse for indolence. Because we + cannot know all, we need not therefore be totally ignorant.</p> + + <p>The true wisdom is that in which all knowledge is + subordinate to practical aims, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page140" + id="page140"></a>[pg 140]</span> and blended into a working + philosophy of life.</p> + + <p>The true wisdom is that it is not what a man does, or has, + or says, that matters; but what he is.</p> + + <p>This must be the aim of practical philosophy—to make a + man be <i>something</i>.</p> + + <p>The world judges a man by his station, inherited or + acquired. God judges by his character. To be our best we must + share God's viewpoint.</p> + + <p>To the world death is always a tragedy; to the Christian it + is never a tragedy unless a man has been a contemptible + character.</p> + + <p>Religion is the widening of a man's horizon so as to include + God.</p> + + <p>It is in the nature of a speculation, but its returns are + immediate.</p> + + <p>True religion means betting one's life that there is a + God.</p> + + <p>Its immediate fruits are courage, stability, calm, + unselfishness, friendship, generosity, humility, and + hope.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page141" + id="page141"></a>[pg 141]</span> + + <p>Religion is the only possible basis of optimism.</p> + + <p>Optimism is the essential condition of progress.</p> + + <p>One is what one believes oneself to be. If one believes + oneself to be an animal one becomes bestial; if one believes + oneself spiritual one becomes Divine.</p> + + <p>Faith is an effective force whose measure has never yet been + taken.</p> + + <p>Man is the creature of heredity and environment. He can only + rise superior to circumstances by bringing God into environment + of which he is conscious.</p> + + <p>The recognition of God's presence upsets the balance of a + man's environment, and means a new birth into a new life.</p> + + <p>The faculties which perceive God increase with use like any + other perceptive faculties.</p> + + <p>Belief in God may be an illusion; but it is an illusion that + pays.</p> + + <p>If belief in God is illusion, happy is + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page142" + id="page142"></a>[pg 142]</span> he who is deluded! He gains + this world and thinks he will gain the next.</p> + + <p>The disbeliever loses this world, and risks losing the + next.</p> + + <p>To be the centre of one's universe is misery. To have one's + universe centred in God is the peace that passeth + understanding.</p> + + <p>Greatness is founded on inward peace.</p> + + <p>Energy is only effective when it springs from deep calm.</p> + + <p>The pleasure of life lies in contrasts; the fear of + contrasts is a chain that binds most men.</p> + + <p>In the hour of danger a man is proven. The boaster hides, + and the egotist trembles. He whose care is for others forgets + to be afraid.</p> + + <p>Men live for eating and drinking, passion and wealth. They + die for honour.</p> + + <p>Blessed is he of whom it has been said that he so loved + giving that he even gave his own + life.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page145" + id="page145"></a>[pg 145]</span> + <hr /> + <a name="X" + id="X"></a> + + <h2>X</h2> + + <h3>IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS</h3> + + <h4>III</h4> + + <blockquote> + <p>SCENE. <i>A trench unpleasantly near the firing line. + There has been an hour's intense bombardment by the + British, with suitable retaliation by the Boches. The + retaliation is just dying down.</i></p> + + <p>CHARACTERS. ALBERT—<i>Round-eyed, rotund, + red-cheeked, yellow-haired, and deliberate; in civil life + probably a drayman.</i> JIM—<i>Small, lean, sallow, + grey-eyed, with a kind of quiet restlessness; in civil life + probably a mechanic with leanings towards Socialism.</i> + POZZIE—<i>A thick-set, low-browed, impassive, + silent</i> <span class="pagenum"><a name="page146" + id="page146"></a>[pg 146]</span> <i>country youth, with + a face the colour of the soil.</i> JINKS—<i>An old + soldier, red, lean, wrinkled, with very blue eyes. His + face is rough-hewn, almost grotesque like a gargoyle. In + his eyes there is a perpetual glint of humour, and in + the poise of his head a certain irrepressible + jauntiness.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>ALBERT (<i>whose eyes are more staring than ever, his + cheeks pendulous and crimson, his general air that of a + partly deflated air-cushion</i>). Gawd's truth!</p> + + <p>JINKS (<i>wagging his head</i>). Well, my old sprig o' + mint, what's wrong wi' you?</p> + + <p>ALBERT. It ain't right. (<i>Sententiously</i>) It's agin + natur'. Flesh an' blood weren't made for this sort o' + think.</p> + + <p>JIM. It ain't flesh an' blood that can't stand it. It's + Mind. Look at old Pozzie. 'E's flesh an' blood, and don't + turn an 'air! For myself I'll go potty one o' these + days.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page147" + id="page147"></a>[pg 147]</span> + + <p>JINKS (<i>slapping POZZIE on the back</i>). You don't + take no notice, do you, old lump o' duff?</p> + + <p>POZZIE. Oi woulden moind if I got moy rations; but a + chap can't keep a good 'eart if 'e's got an empty + stummick.</p> + + <p>JIM (<i>sarcastically</i>). You keep yer 'eart in yer + stomach, don't yer? You ain't got no mind, you ain't. Jinks + was born potty, an' the rest of us'll all go potty except + you. It's you an' yer Ally Sloper's Cavalry what'll win the + war, I don't think!</p> + + <p>ALBERT. What I wants ter know is 'ow long the bleedin' + war's a-goin' ter last. If it goes on much longer I'll be + potty if I ain't a gone 'un.</p> + + <p>JIM. There's only one way of ending it as I knows + on.</p> + + <p>ALBERT. What's that, matey?</p> + + <p>JIM. Put all the bleedin' politicians on both sides in + the bleedin' trenches. Give 'em a week's bombardment, an' + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page148" + id="page148"></a>[pg 148]</span> send 'em away for a + week to make peace, with a promise of a fortnight's + intense at. the end of it if they've failed. They'd find + a way, sure enough.</p> + + <p>ALBERT (<i>admiringly</i>). Ah, that they would an' all. + If old "Wait and See" 'ad been 'ere these last four days 'e + wouldn't talk about fightin' to the last man!</p> + + <p>JINKS. Don't talk stoopid. 'Oo began the bloomin' war? + Don't yer know what you're fightin' for? D'you want ter + leave the 'Uns in France an' Belgium an' Serbia an' all? It + ain't fer us to make peace. It's fer the 'Uns. An' if you + are done in, you got to go under some day. I ain't sure as + they ain't the lucky ones what's got it over and done with. + And arter all, it's not us what's not proper. The 'Uns 'ave + 'ad two fer our one.</p> + + <p>ALBERT. They got dug-outs as deep as 'ell, it don't + touch 'em.</p> + + <p>JINKS. (<i>but without conviction</i>). Don't talk + silly.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page149" + id="page149"></a>[pg 149]</span> + + <p>POZZIE. Oi reckon we got to go through with it. But they + didn't ought to give a chap short rations. That's what + takes the 'eart out of a chap.</p> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page153" + id="page153"></a>[pg 153]</span> + <hr /> + <a name="XI" + id="XI"></a> + + <h2>XI</h2> + + <h3>LETTER TO AN ARMY CHAPLAIN<a id="footnotetag2" + name="footnotetag2"></a><a href="#footnote2"><sup>2</sup></a></h3> + + <p class="author"><i>April 17, 1916.</i></p> + + <p>Thank you very much for your letter of a week ago, which I + should have tried to answer before if I had had time. I am + afraid that your confidence in me as an oracle will be severely + shaken when I confess that I was once on the eve of being + ordained, and that in the end I funked it because it seemed + such an awfully difficult job, and I couldn't see my way to + going through with it.</p> + + <p>However, I must try to answer your + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page154" + id="page154"></a>[pg 154]</span> letter as best I can, and I + hope that you will not mind my speaking plainly what I + think, and will remember that I do so in no spirit of + superiority, but very humbly, as one who has funked the + great work that you have had the pluck to take up, and who + has even failed in the little bit of work that he himself + did try and do. This last means that I have no business to + be an officer. It was the biggest mistake in my life, for my + position in the ranks did give me a hold on the fellows, the + strength of which I have only realized since I left.</p> + + <p>Now then to the point. As I understand you, your difficulty + is that you feel that you must devote yourself to strengthening + a very few men who are already Churchmen, and to whom you can + talk in the language of the Church of things which you know + they want to hear about, or you must appeal to the crowd of + those who are merely good fellows + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page155" + id="page155"></a>[pg 155]</span> and often sad scamps too, + who must be caught with buns and cinemas and who are very + difficult to get any farther.</p> + + <p>I fancy that you, like me, when you see a fine dashing young + fellow, with a touch of honesty and recklessness and wonderful + mystery of youth in his eyes, love him as a brother, and long + to do something to keep him clean, and to keep him from the + sordid things to which you and I know well enough he will + descend in the long run if one cannot put the love of clean, + wholesome life into his heart. But how to get at him? If you + talk to him about his soul you disgust him, and you feel a sort + of sneaking sympathy with him too. It does not seem the thing + to make a chap self-conscious and a bit of a prig when he is + not one to start with. On the other hand, if you just keep to + buns and cinemas you never get any farther. Well, it is a big + difficulty. The only experience that I have had which counts at + all is experience <span class="pagenum"><a name="page156" + id="page156"></a>[pg 156]</span> that I gained while trying + to run a boys' club in South London, and you must not think + me egotistical if I tell you what seems to me to have been + the secret of any power that I seem to have had over + fellows.</p> + + <p>At first I used to have a short service at the close of the + club every evening, to which most of the boys used to stay. I + also had a service on Sunday afternoon. Something of the same + sort might perhaps be possible in the Y.M.C.A. tent if there is + one where you are. When I was talking to them at these services + I always used to try and make them feel that Christ was the + fulfilment of all the best things that they admired, that He + was their natural hero. I would tell them some story of heroism + and meanness contrasted, of courage and cowardice, of noble + forgiveness and vile cruelty, and so get them on the side of + the angels. Then I would try and spring it upon them that + Christ was the Lord of the heroes and the brave + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page157" + id="page157"></a>[pg 157]</span> men and the noble men, and + that He was fighting against all that was mean and cruel and + cowardly, and that it was up to them to take their stand by + His side if they wanted to make the world a little better + instead of a little worse, and I would try to show them how + in little practical ways in their homes and at their work + and in the club they could do a bit for Christ.</p> + + <p>Well, they listened pretty well, and I think that they + agreed in a general sort of way, only 'they knew that I was a + richish man in comparison with them, and that I didn't have + their difficulties to contend with, and that all tended to undo + the effect of what I had said. And then accident gave me a sort + of clue to the way to get them to take one seriously. For some + idiotic reason—I really couldn't say just what it + was—I dressed up as a tramp one day, and spent a night in + a casual ward. I didn't do it for any very worthy motive, and I + didn't mean any <span class="pagenum"><a name="page158" + id="page158"></a>[pg 158]</span> one to know about it; but + it got round, and I suddenly found that it had caught the + imaginations of some of the fellows, and I realized that if + one was to have any power over them one must do symbolic + things to show them that one meant what one said about love + being really better than money, and all that sort of thing. + So in rather a half-hearted way I did try to do things which + would show them that I was in earnest. I took a couple of + rooms in a little cottage in a funny little bug-ridden + court, instead of living at the mission-house. I went out to + Australia steerage to see why emigration of London boys was + not a success, and when war broke out I enlisted, although I + had previously held a commission. And all these little + things, though on reasonable grounds often rather + indefensible, undoubtedly had the effect of making my South + London boys take me more seriously than they did at first. + Well, I am quite sure that with Tommies, if + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page159" + id="page159"></a>[pg 159]</span> ever you get a chance of + doing something in the way of sharing their privations and + dangers when you aren't obliged to, or of showing in + practical ways humility and unselfishness, that will endear + you to them, and give you weight with them more than + anything else. In my time in the ranks I had that proved + over and over again. If once I was able to do even a small + kindness for a fellow which involved a bit of unnecessary + trouble, he would never forget it, and would repay me a + thousand times over. I was a sergeant for about nine months + in England, and had one or two chances. Then I reverted to + the ranks, and for that the men could not do enough to show + me kindness. (It was my not valuing rank and comparative + comfort for its own sake that appealed to them.) Continually + I have reaped a most gigantic reward of goodwill for actions + which cost very little, and which were not always done from + the motives + imputed.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page160" + id="page160"></a>[pg 160]</span> + + <p>I am not swanking—at least, I don't mean to—but + that is just my experience, that with Tommy it is actions, and + specially actions that imply and symbolize humility, courage, + unselfishness, etc., that count ten thousand times more than + the best sermons in the world. I am afraid that all this is not + much good because you are an officer, and your course of action + is very clearly marked out for you by authority. But I do say + that if ever you have a chance of showing that you are willing + to share the often hard and sometimes humiliating lot of the + men it is that which above all things will give you power with + them; just as it is the Cross of Christ, and the spitting and + the mocking and the scourging, and the degradation of His + exposure in dying, that gives Him His power far more than even + the Sermon on the Mount. After all, it is always what costs + most that is best worth having, and if you only see Tommy + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page161" + id="page161"></a>[pg 161]</span> in his easiest moments, + when he is at the Y.M.C.A. or the club, you see him at the + time when he is least impressionable in a permanent + manner.</p> + + <p>Well, I must apologize for writing such an egotistical and + intimate sort of letter on so slight a provocation. But this + that I have said is all that my experience has taught me about + influencing the Tommy.</p> + + <p>No doubt there are other ways; but I have not been able to + strike them.</p> + + <p class="author">Yours very truly,<br /> + DONALD HANKEY, 2nd Lieut.</p> + + <p>P.S.—Of course in becoming a Second Lieutenant I have + dished my own influence most effectually. It has often appeared + to me that among ordinary working men humility was considered + the Christian virtue <i>par excellence</i>. Humility combined + with love is so rare, I suppose, and that is why it is + marvelled at.</p> + + <blockquote class="footnote"> + <a id="footnote2" + name="footnote2"></a><b>Footnote 2:</b> + <a href="#footnotetag2">(return)</a> + + <p>This chapter is the actual text of a letter from "A + Student in Arms," and like the most of the other chapters + appeared originally in the <i>Spectator</i>.</p> + </blockquote><span class="pagenum"><a name="page165" + id="page165"></a>[pg 165]</span> + <hr /> + <a name="XII" + id="XII"></a> + + <h2>XII</h2> + + <h3>"DON'T WORRY"</h3> + + <p>This is at present the soldier's favourite chorus at the + front—</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"What's the use of worrying?</p> + + <p class="i2">It never was worth while!</p> + + <p>Pack up your troubles in your old kit-bag</p> + + <p class="i2">And Smile, Smile, Smile!"</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>Not a bad chorus, either, for the trenches! You can't stop a + shell from bursting in your trench, even if Mr. Rawson can! You + can't stop the rain, or prevent a light from going up just as + you are half-way over the parapet ... so what on earth is the + use of worrying? If you can't alter things, you must accept + them, and make the best of + them.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page166" + id="page166"></a>[pg 166]</span> + + <p>Yet some men do worry, and by so doing effectually destroy + their peace of mind without doing any one any good. What is + worse, it is often the religious man who worries. I have even + heard those whose care was for the soldier's soul, deplore the + fact that he did not worry! I have heard it said that the + soldier is so careless, realizes his position so little, is so + hard to touch! And, on the other hand, I have heard the soldier + say that he did not want religion, because it would make him + worry. Strange, isn't it, if Christianity means worry and + anxiety, and if it is only the heathen who is cheerful and free + from care? Yet the feeling that this is so undoubtedly exists, + and it must have some foundation. Perhaps it is one of the + subjects which ought to engage the attention of Churchmen in + these days of "repentance and hope."</p> + + <p>Of course, worrying is about as un-Christian as anything can + be. "μη + μεριμνατε + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page167" + id="page167"></a>[pg 167]</span> τη + ψυχη + υμων"—"Don't worry about your + life"—is the Master's express command. In fact, the + call of Christ is a call to something very like the + cheerfulness of the soldier in the trenches. It is a call to + a life of external turmoil and internal peace. "I came not + to bring peace, but a sword"; "take up your cross and follow + Me"; "ye shall be hated"; "he that would save his life shall + lose it." It is a call to take risks, to risk poverty, + unpopularity, humiliation, death. It is a call to follow the + way of the Cross. But the way of the Cross is also the way + of peace, the peace of God that passeth understanding. It is + a way of freedom from all cares, and anxieties, and fears; + but not a way of escape from them.</p> + + <p>Yet worrying is often a feature of the actual Churchman. The + actual Churchman is often a man whose conscience is an incubus. + He can do nothing without weighing motives and calculating + results. <span class="pagenum"><a name="page168" + id="page168"></a>[pg 168]</span> It makes him introspective + to an extent that is positively morbid. He is continually + probing himself to discover whether his motives are really + pure and disinterested, continually trying to decide whether + he is "worthy" or "fit" to undertake this or that + responsibility, or to face this or that eventuality. He is + full of suspicion of himself, of self-distrust. In the + trenches he is always wondering whether he is fit to die, + whether he will acquit himself worthily in a crisis, whether + he has done anything that he ought not to have done, or left + undone anything that he ought to have done. Especially if he + is an officer, his responsibility weighs on him terribly, + and I have known more than one good fellow and conscientious + Churchman worry himself into thinking that he was unfit for + his responsibilities as an officer, and ask to be relieved + of them.</p> + + <p>There must be something wrong about the Christianity of such + men. Their <span class="pagenum"><a name="page169" + id="page169"></a>[pg 169]</span> over-conscientiousness + seems to create a wholly wrong sense of proportion, an + exaggerated sense of the significance of their own actions + and characters which is as far removed as can be from the + childlike humility which Christ taught. The truth seems to + be that we lay far too much stress on conscience, + self-examination, and personal salvation, and that we trust + the Holy Spirit far too little.</p> + + <p>If we look to the teaching of Christ, we do not find any + recommendation to meticulous self-analysis, but rather we are + taught a kind of spiritual recklessness, an unquestioning + confidence in what seem to be right impulses, and that quite + regardless of results. We are not told to be careful to spend + each penny to the best advantage; but we are told that if our + money is preventing us from entering the Kingdom, we had better + give it all away. We are not told to set a high value on our + lives, and to spend them with care for the good of the + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page170" + id="page170"></a>[pg 170]</span> Kingdom. On the contrary, + we are told to risk our lives recklessly if we would + preserve them. A sense of anxious responsibility is + discouraged. If our limbs cause us to offend, we are advised + to cut them off.</p> + + <p>The whole teaching of the Gospels is that we have got to + find freedom and peace in trusting ourselves implicitly to the + care of God. We have got to follow what we think right quite + recklessly, and leave the issue to God; and in judging between + right and wrong we are only given two rules for our guidance. + Everything which shows love for God and love for man is right, + and everything which shows personal ambition and anxiety is + wrong.</p> + + <p>What all this means as far as the trenches are concerned is + extraordinarily clear. The Christian is advised not to be too + pushing or ambitious. He is advised to "take the lowest room." + But if he is told to move up higher, he has got to go. If he is + given <span class="pagenum"><a name="page171" + id="page171"></a>[pg 171]</span> responsibility, there is no + question of refusing it. He has got to do his best and leave + the issue to God. If he does well, he will be given more + responsibility. But there is no need to worry. The same + formula holds good for the new sphere. Let him do his best + and leave the issue to God. If he does badly, well, if he + did his best, that means that he was not fit for the job, + and he must be perfectly willing to take a humbler job, and + do his best at that.</p> + + <p>As for personal danger, he must not think of it. If he is + killed, that is a sign that he is no longer indispensable. + Perhaps he is wanted elsewhere. The enemy can only kill the + body, and the body is not the important thing about him. Every + man who goes to war must, if he is to be happy, give his body, + a living sacrifice, to God and his country. It is no longer + his. He need not worry about it. The peace of God which passeth + all understanding simply comes from not worrying about results + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page172" + id="page172"></a>[pg 172]</span> because they are God's + business and not ours, and in trusting implicitly all + impulses that make for love of God and man. Few of us + perhaps will ever attain to a full measure of such faith; + but at least we can make sure that our "Christianity" brings + us nearer to it.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page175" + id="page175"></a>[pg 175]</span> + <hr /> + <a name="XIII" + id="XIII"></a> + + <h2>XIII</h2> + + <h3>IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS</h3> + + <h4>IV</h4> + + <h3><i>AU COIFFEUR</i></h3> + + <blockquote> + <p>SCENE. <i>A barber's shop in a small French town about + thirty miles from the front. A</i> SUBALTERN <i>and a + stout</i> BOURGEOIS <i>are waiting their turn</i>.</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>BOURGEOIS. Is it that it is the mud of the trenches on + the boots of Monsieur?</p> + + <p>SUBALTERN. Ah! but no, Monsieur, for then it would reach + to my waist!</p> + + <p>BOURGEOIS. Nevertheless, Monsieur is but recently come + from the trenches, is it not + so?</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page176" + id="page176"></a>[pg 176]</span> + + <p>SUBALTERN. Yes, I am arrived from the trenches + yesterday.</p> + + <p>BOURGEOIS. Then Monsieur has assisted at the great + attack!</p> + + <p>SUBALTERN. Oh, yes, I helped a very little bit.</p> + + <p>BOURGEOIS. There have been immense losses, is it not + so?</p> + + <p>SUBALTERN (<i>vaguely</i>). There are always great + losses when one attacks.</p> + + <p>BOURGEOIS. Ah! but much greater than one + expected—I have seen, I, the wounded coming down the + river.</p> + + <p>SUBALTERN. I—I have always expected great + losses.</p> + + <p>BOURGEOIS. 'Tis true. There are always great losses when + one attacks. But all goes well, Monsieur, is it not so?</p> + + <p>SUBALTERN. It is difficult to estimate the success of an + attack until after several weeks. But I think that all goes + well.</p> + + <p>BOURGEOIS. But yes, the French, they have had a great + success, and also the + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page177" + id="page177"></a>[pg 177]</span> English. The English + are wonderful. Their equipment! It is that which + astonishes me. Everything is complete. They say that the + English have saved France; but the French also, they + have saved England, is it not so, Monsieur?</p> + + <p>SUBALTERN. But we are saving each other!</p> + + <p>BOURGEOIS. Good! We are saving each other! Very good! + But after the war, Monsieur, England will fight against + France, <i>hein</i>?</p> + + <p>SUBALTERN. Never!</p> + + <p>BOURGEOIS. Never?</p> + + <p>SUBALTERN. Never in life!</p> + + <p>BOURGEOIS. You think so?</p> + + <p>SUBALTERN. We do not love war. We do not seek war. It is + only when a nation is so execrable that one is compelled to + fight, as have been the Germans, that we make war.</p> + + <p>BOURGEOIS. You do not love war, eh? Before the war you + had a very small Army, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page178" + id="page178"></a>[pg 178]</span> about three hundred + thousand, is it not so? And now you have about three + million. You do not love war, you others.</p> + + <p>SUBALTERN. The Germans thought that they loved war, but + I do not believe that they will love it very much + longer!</p> + + <p>BOURGEOIS. No! The war will give them the stomach-ache. + They will love it no longer!</p> + + <p>COIFFEUR. But these English, whom did they fight before? + The Boers, was it not?</p> + + <p>SUBALTERN. Yes, but a great many English think now that + it was a <i>bêtise</i>. There was also great provocation. + And nevertheless, who knows if there was not in that affair + also a German plot?</p> + + <p>BOURGEOIS. It is very likely. Then Monsieur thinks that + we are true friends, the English and the French?</p> + + <p>SUBALTERN. But yes, Monsieur, because we love, both of + us, liberty and peace.</p> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page181" + id="page181"></a>[pg 181]</span> + <hr /> + <a name="XIV" + id="XIV"></a> + + <h2>XIV</h2> + + <h3>A PASSING IN JUNE, 1915</h3> + + <h4>PROLOGUE</h4> + + <blockquote> + <p>SCENE. <i>The parlour of an Auberge.</i></p> + + <p>PERSONS. <i>A stoist motherly</i> MADAME, <i>a wrinkled + fatherly</i> MONSIEUR, <i>and a plain but pleasant</i> + MA'MSELLE. <i>Some English soldiers drinking</i>. CECIL + <i>is talking in French to</i> MONSIEUR, <i>and they are + all very friendly</i>.</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>MADAME. Alors, vous n'avez pas encore été aux + tranchées?</p> + + <p>CECIL. Mais non, Madame, peut-être ce soir.</p> + + <p>(MONSIEUR <i>and</i> MADAME <i>exchange glances</i>. + CECIL <i>rises to + go.</i>)</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page182" + id="page182"></a>[pg 182]</span> + + <p>CECIL. À Jeudi, Monsieur, Madame, Ma'mselle.</p> + + <p>MONSIEUR, MADAME, AND MA'MSELLE (<i>in chorus</i>). À + Jeudi, Monsieur.</p> + + <p>MADAME (<i>earnestly</i>). Bon courage, Monsieur!</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>Curtain</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <h4>ACT I. DAWN</h4> + + <blockquote> + <p>CECIL <i>is discovered lying behind a wall of sandbags. + On one side are the sandbags, and on the other an idyllic + spring scene, with flowers and orchards seen in the + half-light of a spring morning. The dawn breaks gently, and + soon bullets begin to ping through the air, flattening + themselves against the sandbags, or passing over</i> + CECIL's <i>head. He wakes and yawns, and then composes + himself with his eyes open.</i></p> + + <p><i>Enter Allegorical personages</i>: FATHER SUN, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page183" + id="page183"></a>[pg 183]</span> MOTHER EARTH, <i>and a + chorus of</i> GRASSES, POPPIES, CORNFLOWERS, RAGGED + ROBINS, DAISIES, BEETLES, BEES, FLIES, <i>and insects of + all kinds.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>FATHER SUN.</p> + </div> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Wake, children, rub your eyes,</p> + + <p>Up and dance and sing and play,</p> + + <p>Not a cloud is in the skies;</p> + + <p>This is going to be <i>my</i> day.</p> + + <p>See the tiny dew-drop glisten</p> + + <p>In my glancing golden ray;</p> + + <p>See the shadows dancing, listen</p> + + <p>To the lark so blithe and gay.</p> + + <p>Up, children, dance and play,</p> + + <p>This is my own festal day.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>FLOWERS, BEETLES, ETC.</p> + </div> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i8">Dance and sing</p> + + <p class="i8">In a ring,</p> + + <p class="i2">Naughty clouds are chased away;</p> + + <p class="i8">Oh what fun,</p> + + <p class="i8">Father Sun</p> + + <p>Is going to shine the whole long day.</p> + </div> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page184" + id="page184"></a>[pg 184]</span> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>MOTHER EARTH. That's right, children. This is the day to + grow in; but don't forget to come home to dinner; I've got + such a nice dinner for you.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>The children dance away delightedly, while CECIL + watches them, fascinated.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>MOTHER EARTH. What's this absurd young man doing, + sitting behind that ugly wall? Why don't he sit under a + tree if he must sit?</p> + + <p>FATHER SUN. Oh, he's a lunatic! Must be.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(RANDOM BULLET <i>jumps over the sandbags into the + dug-out, and jibbers impotently at</i> CECIL, <i>who + glances up at him with a look of disgust.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>RANDOM BULLET. Ping! Ping. It's me he's afraid of. He + daren't stir a yard from this wall, or I'd tear his brains + out. Ping! Ping!</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page185" + id="page185"></a>[pg 185]</span> + + <p>MOTHER EARTH. Who are you, Monster?</p> + + <p>RANDOM BULLET. I'm Random Bullet. I <i>am</i> a monster, + I am! Ping!</p> + + <p>MOTHER EARTH. Who sent you, anyway?</p> + + <p>RANDOM BULLET. Why, the idiots behind the other wall, + over there! Sometimes I jump at them, and sometimes I jump + over here. I don't care which way it is; but I like tearing + their brains out, I do. I don't care which lot it is.</p> + + <p>MOTHER EARTH. What madness!</p> + + <p>FATHER SUN (<i>indignantly</i>). On my day too!</p> + + <p>RANDOM BULLET. Mad! I should think they were! Never + mind, they give me some fun! Ping! So long, I'm off, going + to jump at the other fellows, back in a second if you like + to wait.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(RANDOM BULLET <i>jumps out of sight, and</i> MOTHER + EARTH <i>and</i> FATHER SUN <i>move disgustedly + away.</i>)</p> + </blockquote><span class="pagenum"><a name="page186" + id="page186"></a>[pg 186]</span> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>CECIL (<i>getting up</i>). Mad! By God, we are mad! + Curse the war! Curse the fools who started it! Why did I + ever come out here? What a way to spend a morning in + June!</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>Curtain.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <h4>ACT II. MIDDAY</h4> + + <blockquote> + <p>SCENE. <i>The same.</i> CECIL <i>as before, but + sweltering in the sun. Enter the</i> SPIRIT OF THIRST.</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>THIRST. Oh for a drink! Water, anything! I could drink a + bath full. What a place to spend a June day in! When one + thinks of all the drinks one might be having, it is really + infuriating. Gad! The very thought of 'em makes me feel + quite poetic! Think of the great barrels of still cider in + cool Devonshire cellars! Think of the sour refreshing wine + we used <span class="pagenum"><a name="page187" + id="page187"></a>[pg 187]</span> to get in Italy! And + the iced cocktails of Colombo! And Pimm's No. 1 in the + City. Anywhere but here it's a pleasure to be a Thirst; + but here! Good Lord, it will send me off my head. How + would a bath go now, old chap? By God, don't you wish + you were back in your canoe, drawn up among the rushes + near Islip, and you just going to plunge into the cool + waters of the Char? Or think of that day you bathed in + the deep still pool at the foot of the Tamarin Falls, + with the water crashing down above you, into the deep + shady chasm. Even a dip in the sea at Mount Lavinia + wouldn't be bad now,—or, better still, a dive into + Como from a rowboat; you remember that hot summer we + went to Como? I'll tell you another thing that wouldn't + go down badly either. Do you remember a great bowl of + strawberries and cream with a huge ice in it, that you + had the day before you left school, after that hot bike + ride to Leamington? Not bad, was + it?</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page188" + id="page188"></a>[pg 188]</span> + + <p>CECIL (<i>fiercely</i>). Shut up, you beast! Oh, curse + this idiotic war! Why are we such fools?</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>Curtain.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <h4>ACT III. LATE AFTERNOON</h4> + + <blockquote> + <p>SCENE. <i>As before.</i> CECIL <i>is discovered reading + a letter from home.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>CECIL (<i>to himself</i>). Tom dead. Good Lord! What + times we have had together! Where are all the good fellows + I used to know? Half of them dead, and the rest condemned + to die! No more yachting on the broads! No more convivial + evenings at the Troc.! No more long nights spinning yarns + in Tom's old rooms in the Temple! Curse this blasted war + that robs one of everything worth having, that dulls every + sense of decency and kills all feeling for beauty, destroys + the joy of life, and mutilates one's dearest friends. Curse + it!</p> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page189" + id="page189"></a>[pg 189]</span> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>A sound as of an express train is heard, followed by + the roar of an explosion, while a dense cloud of smoke and + dust rises immediately in view of the trench.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>PORTENTOUS VOICE. Prepare to face eternity!</p> + + <p>CECIL (<i>clenching his fists</i>). Beast, loathsome + beast! Don't think I am afraid of you.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>The sounds are repeated as a second shell drops, + rather nearer. A Shadow appears round the dug-out, and + hesitates.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>CECIL (<i>to the Shadow</i>). Who is that? Is that the + Shadow of Fear?</p> + + <p>A THIN, QUAVERING VOICE. Yes, shall I come in?</p> + + <p>CECIL (<i>furiously</i>). Out of my sight, vile, + cringing wretch! Not even your shadow will I tolerate in my + presence!</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>A third shell bursts nearer still.</i>)</p> + </blockquote><span class="pagenum"><a name="page190" + id="page190"></a>[pg 190]</span> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>PORTENTOUS VOICE (<i>thunderously</i>). Set not your + affections on things below.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(CECIL <i>pauses in a listening attitude</i>).</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>CECIL (<i>more quietly, and with a new look in his + eyes</i>). I think I have forgotten + something,—something rather important.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>Enter the twin Spirits of</i> HONOUR <i>and</i> + DUTY, <i>Spirits of a very noble and courtly mien.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>CECIL (<i>simply and humbly</i>). Gentlemen, to my + sorrow and loss I had forgotten you. You are doubly + welcome.</p> + + <p>THE SPIRIT OF DUTY. Young sir, we thank you. After all, + it is but right that in this hour of danger and dismay we + should be with you.</p> + + <p>THE SPIRIT OF HONOUR. I am so old a friend of you and + yours, Cecil, that you may surely trust me. I was your + father's friend. Side by side we stood in every crisis of + his varied life. Together + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page191" + id="page191"></a>[pg 191]</span> faced the Dervish rush + at Abu Klea, and afterwards in India took our part in + many a desperate unnamed frontier tussle. I helped him + woo your mother, spoke for him when he put up for + Parliament, advised him when he visited the city. In + fact, I was his companion all through life, and I stood + beside his bed at death.</p> + + <p>THE SPIRIT OF DUTY. I too may claim to have been as much + your father's friend as was my brother. Indeed, where one + is, the other is never far away. We do agree most + wonderfully, and since our birth, no quarrel has ever + disturbed the harmony of our ways.</p> + + <p>CECIL. Gentlemen, you have recalled me to myself. I had + forgotten that I was no more a child. I wanted to dance in + the sun with the flowers, and sing with the birds, to swim + in the pool with yonder newt, and lie down to dry in the + long meadow grass among the poppies. Because I might not do + this and other things as fond + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page192" + id="page192"></a>[pg 192]</span> and foolish, I was + petulant and peevish, like a spoilt child. I look to + you, gentlemen, to help me to be a man, and play a man's + part in the world.</p> + + <p>HONOUR. We will remain at hand, call us when you need + us, we shall not fail you.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>The bombardment increases in intensity. Shrapnel + bursts overhead. Shells with increasing rapidity and + accuracy explode both short and over the trench. The hail + of bullets is continuous. An N.C.O. rushes by shouting + "Stand to"; men rush from the dug-outs and seize their + rifles</i>; CECIL, <i>like the others, grasps his rifle and + sees that it is fully loaded.</i>)</p> + + <p>(<i>Curtain.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <h4>ACT IV. SUNSET</h4> + + <blockquote> + <p>SCENE. <i>The same, but the wall of sand-bags</i> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page193" + id="page193"></a>[pg 193]</span> <i>bags is broken in + many places. The dead lie half-buried beneath them.</i> + CECIL <i>lies, badly wounded, against a gap in the wall, + his rifle by his side.</i> HONOUR <i>and</i> DUTY + <i>kneel beside him tenderly. The last rays of the sun + light up his painful smile.</i> THIRST <i>stands + gloomily over him, and the wild flowers are peeping at + him with sleepy eyes through the gap, while</i> MOTHER + EARTH <i>calls to them to go to bed.</i> FATHER SUN + <i>leans sadly over the broken parapet.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>CECIL (<i>slowly and with difficulty</i>). Honour, Duty, + I thank you. You did not fail me.</p> + + <p>HONOUR. You played the man, Cecil, as your father did + before you.</p> + + <p>DUTY. Your example it was that steadied your comrades, + and kept craven fear at a distance. You saved the + trench.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page194" + id="page194"></a>[pg 194]</span> + + <p>HONOUR. This is the beauty of manhood, to die for a good + cause. There is no fairer thing in all God's world.</p> + + <p>CECIL. I thank you. Good-night, Sun; good-night, Mother + Earth. Think kindly of me. I don't think I was mad after + all.</p> + + <p>SUN. Good-night, brave lad. (<i>To</i> MOTHER EARTH) I + can hardly bear to look on so sad a sight.</p> + + <p>CECIL. Good-night, Ragged Robins; good-night, Poppies. + You have played your game, and I mine. Only they are + different because we are different.</p> + + <p>CHORUS OF FLOWERS. Good-night, dear Cecil. We are so + very sorry that you are hurt.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>Enter the</i> MASTER, <i>flowers shyly following + him.</i> HONOUR <i>and</i> DUTY <i>raise</i> CECIL + <i>gently to a standing position.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>THE MASTER (<i>extending his arms with a loving + smile</i>). "Well done, good and faithful + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page195" + id="page195"></a>[pg 195]</span> servant. Enter thou + into the joy of thy Lord."</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(CECIL, <i>with a look of wonder and joy, is borne + forward.</i>)</p> + + <p>(<i>Curtain.</i>)</p> + </blockquote><span class="pagenum"><a name="page199" + id="page199"></a>[pg 199]</span> + <hr /> + <a name="XV" + id="XV"></a> + + <h2>XV</h2> + + <h3>MY HOME AND SCHOOL<a id="footnotetag3" + name="footnotetag3"></a><a href="#footnote3"><sup>3</sup></a></h3> + + <h3>A Fragment of Autobiography</h3> + <hr class="short" /> + + <h4>I</h4> + + <h4>MY HOME</h4> + + <p>What is one to say of home? It is difficult to know. I find + that biographers are particular about the date of birth, the + exact address of the babe, the social position and ancestry of + the parent. I suppose that it is all that they can learn. But + as an autobiographer I want to do something better; to give a + picture of the home where, as I can now see, ideals, tastes, + prejudices and habits were formed which have + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page200" + id="page200"></a>[pg 200]</span> persisted through all the + internal revolutions that have since upheaved my being.</p> + + <p>I try to form the picture in my mind, and a crowd of detail + rushes in which completely destroys its simplicity and harmony. + How hard it is to judge, even at this distance, what are the + salient features. I must try, but I know that from the point of + view of psychological development I may easily miss out the + very factors which were really most important.</p> + + <p>I remember a big house, in a row of other big houses, in a + side street leading from the East Cliff at Brighton right up to + the edge of the bare rolling downs. It was exactly like almost + every other house in that part of Brighton—stucco + fronted, with four stories and a basement, three windows in + front on each of the upper stories, and two windows and a door + on the ground floor and basement. At the back was a small + garden, with flower beds surrounding a square of gravel, and a + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page201" + id="page201"></a>[pg 201]</span> tricycle house in one + corner. There was a back door in this garden, which gave on + to a street of cottages. This back door was a point of + strategic importance.</p> + + <p>But I need not describe the house in detail. It was exactly + like thousands of other houses built in the beginning of the + nineteenth century. High, respectable, ugly and rather + inconvenient, with many stairs, two or three big rooms, a lot + of small ones and no bathroom. It was essentially a family + house, intended for people of moderate means and large + families. Nowadays they build houses which are prettier, and + have bathrooms; but they are not meant for large families.</p> + + <p>We were a large family, and a fairly noisy one. Moreover, we + were singularly self-sufficing. We hadn't many friends, we + didn't entertain much, we had dinner in the middle of the day, + and supper in the evening.</p> + + <p>There was my father who was a recluse, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page202" + id="page202"></a>[pg 202]</span> my mother who was + essentially our mother, the two girls and four boys. I was + an afterthought, being seven years younger than my next + brother, who for seven years had been called B. (for baby), + and couldn't escape from it even after my appearance.</p> + + <p>In addition to these, B. and I both had inseparable friends, + who lived within a stone's throw. Ronnie was my <i>alter + ego</i> till I was fourteen: so much so that I had no other + friend. Even now, though our ways have kept us apart, and our + interests and opinions are fundamentally different, we can sit + in each other's rooms with perfect content. We know too much of + each other for it to be possible to pretend to be what we are + not. We sit and are ourselves, naked and unashamed so to speak, + and it is very restful.</p> + + <p>Pictures float before my mind. Let me select a few. I see a + rather fat, stolid little boy in a big airy nursery at the top + of the house, sitting in the middle of the + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page203" + id="page203"></a>[pg 203]</span> floor playing with bricks. + Outside it is gusty and wet, and the small boy hopes that he + will be allowed to stay in all the afternoon, and play with + bricks. But that is not to be. A small thin man, with gentle + grey eyes, short curly beard, an old black greatcoat and a + black square felt hat, comes in. The child must have some + air. The child is resentful, but resigned, is wrapped up + well, put in his pram and wheeled up and down the Madeira + Road.</p> + + <p>"Pa" didn't appear very much except on some such errand; but + "Ma" was in and out all the time. "Ma" was everything, the only + woman who has ever had my whole love, my whole trust and has + made my heart ache with the desire to show my love.</p> + + <p>A later picture. The boy is bigger, and not so fat. He no + longer has a nurse. He has vacated the nursery, which is now + tenanted by his big sisters. He has a little room all his own: + a very small room, <span class="pagenum"><a name="page204" + id="page204"></a>[pg 204]</span> looking west. The + south-west gales beat upon the window in the winter, and not + so far away is the roar of the sea. It is good to curl up in + a nice warm little bed, and listen to the howling of the + wind and the waves.</p> + + <p>In the morning come lessons from his eldest sister G. The + schoolroom has rings and a trapeze, a bookshelf full of boys' + books, and cupboards full of stone bricks, cannon and soldiers. + The boy's mind is set on bricks and soldiers. Lessons and walks + with "Ma" and his sisters or Ronnie and his nurse down the town + are a nuisance. They interfere with the building of cathedrals + and the settling of the destinies of nations by the arbitrament + of war.</p> + + <p>It was a stolid, placid boy, intensely wrapt up in his + cathedrals and his generals, intensely devoted to "Ma," and + regarding all else as rather a nuisance. Ronnie he liked. He + liked going to tea with him, and going walks with him and his + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page205" + id="page205"></a>[pg 205]</span> nurse; but they didn't have + much in common except cricket. Ronnie had big soldiers which + could not be knocked down by cannon balls, and which + couldn't make history because they were few in number, and + nearly all English. Mine were of every European power, and + many Asiatic ones. They were diminutive and numerous, could + take shelter in a forest of pine cones and were admirably + suited to be mown down at the cannon's mouth. The King of + England was a person with a fine figure. He had one leg and + one arm, and the plume of his dragoon's helmet was shorn + off; but his slight, erect figure still looked noble on a + stately white palfrey. The French armies were usually + commanded by Marshal Petit, a gay fellow with his full + complement of limbs, who sat a horse well. He had a younger + brother almost equally distinguished. I have no recollection + of a King of France. He must have been a poor fellow. The + Sultan of Turkey, the Khedive, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page206" + id="page206"></a>[pg 206]</span> and Li Hung Chang still + live in my memory as persons of distinction; but I have no + personal recollection of the Tsar, or the Emperors of + Germany or Austria, or of the King of Italy, though I know + they existed.</p> + + <p>Into this placid existence turmoil would enter three times a + year. The elder brothers, Hugh, Tommy and B., would come home + for the holidays from Sandhurst and Rugby, and R. would appear, + and become almost one of the family. Then would occur troublous + times, with a few advantages and many disadvantages.</p> + + <p>"Tommy" was a curiously solitary youth as I remember him, + who played the 'cello with great perseverance and considerable + success. At soldiers he was something of a genius, though his + games were of an intricacy which failed to commend itself to me + altogether. In his great soldier days he not only made history, + but wrote it—a height to which I never + attained.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page207" + id="page207"></a>[pg 207]</span> + + <p>In the holidays, cricket in the back garden became a great + feature, and Tommy was a demon bowler. I fancy, too, that the + very elaborate but highly satisfactory form of the game must + have originated with him. In the back garden we not merely + played cricket, but made history—cricket history. Two + county sides were written out, and we batted alternately for + the various cricketers, doing our best to imitate their styles. + We bowled also in a rough imitation of the styles of the county + bowlers whom we represented. This arrangement secured us + against personal rivalry, kept up a tremendous interest in + first-class cricket and enabled matches to continue, if + necessary, for weeks at a time. It encouraged, too, a fair, + impersonal and unprejudiced view of outside events.</p> + + <p>In cricket, war and music we undoubtedly benefited by the + holidays, especially in the summer, when we used to go to the + country, often occupying a school-house + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page208" + id="page208"></a>[pg 208]</span> with gym, cricket nets and + a fair-sized garden. Ecclesiastical architecture suffered, + however....</p> + + <p>Hugh was a great and glorious person, a towering beneficent + despot when he did appear.... As for me I adored him with + whole-hearted hero-worship. He was the "protector of the poor," + who kept the rest of us in order. He was a magnificent person + who revolutionized the art of war by the introduction of + explosives. He was a tremendous walker, and first taught me to + love great tramps over the downs, to sniff appreciatively the + glorious air and to love their bare, storm-swept outlines. Hugh + stood for all that is wholesome, strenuous, out of doors in my + life. Without him I should have been a mere sedentary. Among + other things he was an enthusiastic boxer and gymnast. For + these pursuits I sturdily feigned enthusiasm and suppressed + timidity.</p> + + <p>A few more pictures. First, Sunday + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page209" + id="page209"></a>[pg 209]</span> morning. Gertrude goes off + to Sunday School. She likes teaching and bossing. Hilda and + Hugh, who are greater pals than brother and sister can often + be, go off to St. James', where there will be good music and + an interesting sermon. Tommy goes to St. Mark's, a good + Protestant place, or to the beach, where curious and + recondite doctrines are weekly disputed. B. goes to St. + George's, protesting. There is plenty of room for his hat, + there is a congenially aggressive spirit against Rome and it + slightly irritates Ma. Pa is not up yet. Ma and I go to All + Souls', because it is the nearest poor church, and Ma finds + it easier to worship where there are no pew rents, and the + seats are uncushioned, and there are few rich people. I am + ever loyal to Ma.</p> + + <p>I often wonder whether the reason why my family are all + Churchgoers now is not that at that time we could choose our + church.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page210" + id="page210"></a>[pg 210]</span> + + <p>The next picture is Sunday night. "Pa" and I, and perhaps + some of the other boys, set out for St. Paul's, at the other + end of the town. Then, after the service, follows an immense + walk all through the slums of the town. We talk of Australia, + where Pa once had a sheep run; of theology, of the past and the + future. This weekly walk is something of a privilege, and + rather solemn. It makes me feel older.</p> + + <p>It is spring. I am at Rugby, and in the "San" with + ophthalmia. The South African war is raging. Hugh is there. I + am told that Hugh is dead. He has been shot in a glorious but + futile charge at Paardeberg. I can't realize it. I am an object + of interest, of envy almost, to the whole school. The flag is + half-mast because my brother is dead. Every one is kind, + touched. I put on an air as of a martyr.</p> + + <p>I get a heartbroken letter from my mother. Will I come home? + Or hadn't <span class="pagenum"><a name="page211" + id="page211"></a>[pg 211]</span> I better go to Uncle + Jack's? If I go home we shall make each other worse. It is + better for me than for Maurice, who is with the fleet in the + Mediterranean with no one to comfort him.</p> + + <p>Ma has had a great shock. She feels it desperately. She + thinks all the others feel it as much. Except Hilda, we don't. + There is a huge piece taken out of Ma's life and Hilda's life, + because they were so unselfishly devoted to Hugh. Pa, also, has + lost much, but he is a philosopher.</p> + + <p>I go to Uncle Jack's and shoot rabbits. The holidays come + and go. Tommy is at Oxford; I am at Rugby. Pa is immersed in + theological speculation about the next world; B. is in the + Mediterranean. Ma sends Gertrude and Hilda away for a long + change. They go, and come back. Something about Ma frightens + them. She and Pa come near Rugby and stay with Uncle Jack. The + holidays come. I learn that for the first time for about twenty + years Ma <span class="pagenum"><a name="page212" + id="page212"></a>[pg 212]</span> is to go away without Pa. I + am to meet her at Hereford, and we are to go to Wales. Ma + forgets things. She is more loving than ever, but her memory + is going. We go to communion together in the little village + church.</p> + + <p>A few weeks later. We are back in Brighton. An Australian + uncle and family are staying with us. Ma is ill in bed. I get + up at 6 A.M., tramp over the downs and in a place I wot of, + some five miles away, I gather heather for Ma. I run. I get + back by 8.30. I find my uncle and cousins getting into a cab. + Some one says, "How lovely! Are these for me?" I grip them in + despair. They are for Ma. "Quite right," says someone. A day or + two later my heather was placed, still blooming, on Ma's + grave.</p> + + <p>I was sixteen then. Six years later I return home from + abroad. Within a few weeks of my return I am sitting in Pa's + room in agony, listening to him fight for breath. The fight at + last weakens. I <span class="pagenum"><a name="page213" + id="page213"></a>[pg 213]</span> hear him whisper, "Help! + help!" I set my teeth. The others come in. There is silence. + All is over. I am given my father's ring. It is my most + treasured possession.</p> + + <p>Henceforth all I have left of home is Hilda, for she alone + is unmarried. Ever since my mother's death she has been my + confidante. As far as was possible she has taken Ma's place in + my life, and I have taken Hugh's place in hers. We are + substitutes. For that reason as we get older we get to know + each other better, and to know better how much we can give to + each other. There is more criticism between us than there would + have been between Ma and me, and Hilda and Hugh. But it has its + advantages. We live apart, but we correspond weekly, and + holiday together. It is all that is left of home, and it is + infinitely precious.</p> + + <p>Now that I have written these pages I can see as I have + never seen before how much the child was father of the man. + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page214" + id="page214"></a>[pg 214]</span> Since those home days I + have had more variety of experience perhaps than falls to + the lot of most men, and I would almost say more varied and + more epoch-making friendships. Yet in these pages that I + have written I seem to see all the essential and salient + features of my character already mirrored and formed.</p> + + <p>I am still by nature lethargic and placid. I could still + occupy myself contentedly With bricks and soldiers, art and + history, and trouble no one. But there is still that other + element, instilled by Hugh—a love of the open air, of + struggle with the elements, in lonely desert places.</p> + + <p>I have never lost the craving for true religion, which + induced my mother to go to a poor church to worship, and to + visit the drunken and helpless in their slums. I have never + lost the desire for her singleness of mind, and simple loyalty + to Christ and His Church. At the same time I have never lost my + father's inquiring spirit, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page215" + id="page215"></a>[pg 215]</span> broad view, love of + doctrine tempered by reason and founded on history and + tested by human experience. When these two beloved ones + passed from this world I learnt the meaning of the text, + "Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also." My + heart has never been wholly in this world.</p> + + <p>So, too, I have always been a man of few friends. Ronnie has + had many successors; but seldom more than one at a time. I have + never cared much for society. My father and mother neither of + them attached much importance to conventions, or to the + fictitious values which society puts on clothes or money or + position. I have always looked rather for some one to admire, + some one whose ideals and personality were congenial, whatever + their position or occupation. I have also, on the whole, always + preferred comfort to show, simple to elaborate living. This I + trace to the simple comfort and naturalness of my old home.</p> + + <blockquote class="footnote"> + <a id="footnote3" + name="footnote3"></a><b>Footnote 3:</b> + <a href="#footnotetag3">(return)</a> + + <p>"A Student" left a great deal of manuscript, among which + this fragment of autobiography is not the least + interesting.</p> + </blockquote><span class="pagenum"><a name="page216" + id="page216"></a>[pg 216]</span> + + <h4>II</h4> + + <h4>SCHOOL</h4> + + <p>I went to a day school kept by Ronnie's father when I was + nine. At least, it was a day school for me; but nearly all the + boys were boarders. I worked fairly hard, and got prizes. I was + fairly good at cricket, and not much good at football. I had + only one friend—Ronnie—and about two enemies, both + of whom were day boys, and whom I should have liked to have + fought if I had dared. My memories of the school are few. I + best remember leaving home, and going back, and also playing + cricket. Ronnie's father lives as a just and straightforward + gentleman, who never caned a boy except for what was mean or + dirty, and whom we all <span class="pagenum"><a name="page217" + id="page217"></a>[pg 217]</span> loved and respected. But + then I have known and loved him and his wife all my life. If + our house was a second home to Ronnie, theirs has always + been a second home to me.</p> + + <p>There was one master whom I liked, and who perhaps did + something to develop my character. He was fond of poetry and + history, and from him I learnt—an easy lesson for + me—to love history; but what is more, he first gave me a + glimmering idea, which was to develop long after, that the + classics are literature, and not torture.</p> + + <p>I left there to go to Rugby.</p> + + <p>Never did a boy enter Rugby with better chances. The memory + of my three brothers still lived in the house. They had all + achieved distinction in games, and been leading prefects (or + sixths as they are called at Rugby) in the house. Many masters + remembered them for good, particularly Jacky, the housemaster, + who had loved them all, especially + Hugh.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page218" + id="page218"></a>[pg 218]</span> + + <p>In addition to this, one of the leading fellows in the + house, who was afterwards to be captain of the school fifteen + and cricket eleven, lieutenant in the corps, and one of the + racquet pair, had been at my private school. I shared a study + with another fellow who had been at my private school. Two boys + accompanied me from there, one of whom was my next best friend + to Ronnie. His parents were in India, and he had spent some of + his holidays with Ronnie and me.</p> + + <p>But though I loved Rugby and was happy there, I can't say I + was a success. I made few friends, who have since, with one + exception, drifted out of my life. I was too timid to enjoy + Rugger. I never achieved distinction at cricket. I got into the + sixth my last term, but hadn't the force of character to enjoy + the prefectural powers which that fact conferred upon me. The + fact is that I left when I was 16, and it is between 16 and 18 + that the <span class="pagenum"><a name="page219" + id="page219"></a>[pg 219]</span> full enjoyment of school + life comes and boys reap the harvest they have sown. Had I + stayed another year I should have belonged to the leading + generation, strengthened my friendships and developed what + was latent in my character. As it was, I left at an + unfortunate age. I was pushed into the sixth a year before + my contemporaries. My friendships were only half formed, and + I had only just begun to feel strength of body and mind + developing in me.</p> + + <p>As a junior I was too conscientious, and not light-hearted + enough. I hardly had any adventures at Rugby, because I had an + incurable instinct for keeping rules. I worked hard at + mathematics and French, and my report generally read, "Good + ability. Might exert himself more." At classics and chemistry I + did as little work as possible, and any report generally read, + "Hard-working but not bright."</p> + + <p>On the whole I think I was pretty happy at Rugby; but I + never look back to my <span class="pagenum"><a name="page220" + id="page220"></a>[pg 220]</span> school days as the happiest + part of my life. I have had many happier times since. But + still, my house was a good one. Jacky, the housemaster, was + wonderfully kind and wise. He hardly ever interfered with + the affairs of the house, but left it all—in + appearance—to the "Sixths." Actually, nothing escaped + him. The tone of the house was on the whole extraordinarily + clean and wholesome, and the fellows who had dirty minds + were a small minority, and easily avoided. At all events, + very little of that sort of thing reached me.</p> + + <p>At sixteen and a half I went to the Royal Military Academy + at Woolwich, commonly known as "the Shop." There I spent the + two most miserable years of my life, and made the second of my + great friendships. In these days the Shop was still a pretty + rough place, and at the moment it was unusually full. I think + there were over 300 fellows there altogether, and there were + about 70 in my term. My first + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page221" + id="page221"></a>[pg 221]</span> experience was unfortunate. + I was interviewing the Adjutant, a keen sportsman and a bit + of a tartar. He eyed me unfavourably, asked what games I + could play, and when I replied that I had no great + proficiency in any he commented, "Humph, a + good-for-nothing!" and dismissed me.</p> + + <p>I am by nature slow, stolid and clumsy. I was bad at being + "smart"; I was slow and clumsy at drill; map making and + geometrical drawing were physical impossibilities to me; I was + incredibly slow and stupid at machinery, mechanism and + electricity. The only subject which interested me was military + history. In my first term I dropped from about forty-fourth to + about seventieth in my class, and I kept near the bottom until + my fourth term, when I failed in my electricity exam., and had + to stay one term more. In the same term I received a prize for + the best essay on the lessons of the South African + War.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page222" + id="page222"></a>[pg 222]</span> + + <p>Oh, the misery of those terms at Woolwich! I hated the work, + the drill, the gym and even the riding school. I hated the + officers, and above all I hated the spirit of the place. As far + as I remember, the one eternal topic of conversation and + subject of "wit" was the sexual relation. Of course the boys + had never been taught sensibly anything about it. Consequently + the place was continually circulated with filthy books, + pictures, stories, etc. When I went there I was extraordinarily + innocent, and devoid of curiosity. I had been recently the more + disposed to purity through the death of my mother. At Woolwich + I remained extraordinarily innocent and uncurious, letting the + poisonous stream flow continually by me, shrinking from its + stench, and finding more and more relief in my own company. I + must have been a very unpleasant person at that time.</p> + + <p>One friend I had. He was a small, compact, keen, and capable + little Rugbian <span class="pagenum"><a name="page223" + id="page223"></a>[pg 223]</span> named F——. He + was like me in that he had recently lost his parents, and + was interested in religion and philosophy in a boyish way. + Unlike me he rather enjoyed Woolwich. He had a lot of + friends, was keen on riding and on a good deal of the work, + and generally speaking plunged into life, taking the rough + with the smooth, and both in good part. Although we have + drifted far apart in ideals and sympathies, and though + misunderstanding has come in and destroyed our friendship, I + shall never cease to be grateful for all that + F—— did for me in those days. He routed me out + when I was in the blues, laughed at me, cheered me up and + made me look at life with new eyes. Moreover he did this, as + I know, in defiance of the set with whom he was friendly, + who despised me for a milksop, and were at no pains to + conceal the fact. But for F——, my life at the + Shop would have been intolerable.</p> + + <p>Besides him, I had a few associates, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page224" + id="page224"></a>[pg 224]</span> boys with whom I naturally + associated for the simple reason that they, too, were left + out of the main current of the life of the place. But they + were not particularly congenial. One or two were hard + workers. One was a great slacker, and more timid, physically + and morally, than even I. He was a boy with a fatal facility + for doing useless things moderately well, especially in the + musical line. He was even more frightened of gym and horses + than I was, and unlike me was not ashamed to show it. If the + Shop was purgatory to me, it must have been hell to him.</p> + + <p>My happiest times were week-ends spent at home. I used to + arrive on Saturday evening and leave on Sunday evening. About + now I began to get to know my father much better, and to + develop my theological bent under his advice. In my + disillusionment as to my capacity for military life I began to + wish I had chosen the clerical profession. I think + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page225" + id="page225"></a>[pg 225]</span> my father had the + shrewdness to see that failure in one profession was not + necessarily the sign of a "call" in another direction. + Anyway, he did not discourage me; but spoke of five years in + the Army as the best training for a parson.</p> + + <p>I remember avowing my intention of becoming a parson to one + of my more friendly acquaintances at the Shop, and he replied + that I wouldn't set the Thames on fire, because I had such a + monotonous voice.</p> + + <p>In spite of seeking relief from my uncongenial surroundings + in religion and theology, I did not join myself to any one + else. There was a so-called "Pi Squad," or Bible class, held + weekly, but I only went once, and didn't like it. I was always + peculiarly sensitive about priggishness in those who professed + themselves to be religious openly, and generally thought I + detected priggishness in any "Bible circle" or similar + institution that I came across. I think my theology + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page226" + id="page226"></a>[pg 226]</span> mainly consisted in + speculations about the future state—I remember I + emphatically declined to believe in hell—and my + religion consisted mainly in fairly regular attendance at + Matins and Communion.</p> + + <p>Another effect of the intensity with which I hated my + surroundings was that I read a lot of good novels—George + Eliot, the Brontës, Scott, Dickens, Jane Austen, Thackeray, + Besant, etc. A book which I read over and over again was Arthur + Benson's <i>Hill of Trouble, and other Stories</i>. Those + legends, with their imaginative setting, charm of language and + beautiful religious ideas were more restful to my unquiet + spirit than anything else I read.</p> + + <p>The actual conditions of life at the Shop were pretty + barbaric. The aim was to make it as much like barracks as + possible. Each term was housed in a different side of the + square of buildings which form the Academy, and the fourth term + were spread among the houses of the other terms as + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page227" + id="page227"></a>[pg 227]</span> corporals. My first term I + shared a room with three other fellows. I think it was the + ugliest room I have ever lived in, without exception. It had + high whitewashed brick walls. In each corner was a bed which + folded up against the wall in the day time, and was + concealed by a square of print curtains. There were a deal + table, four windsor chairs, a shelf with four basins, and a + cupboard with four lockers. All the woodwork was painted + khaki. The contrast with the little study at Rugby, with its + diamond-paned window, its matchboard panelling surmounted by + a paper of one's own choosing, its ledge for photos and + ornaments ("bim ledge" so called), its eggshell blue + cupboards, baize curtains and window box, was striking.</p> + + <p>It used to be the custom to go to and from the bathroom + attired in a sponge, in connexion with which an amusing + incident once happened.</p> + + <p>A cadet in his second year was on the + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page228" + id="page228"></a>[pg 228]</span> bathroom landing, when he + perceived that the mother and sisters of another cadet were + coming upstairs. From sounds in the bathroom he realized + that they would meet a naked corporal just as they reached + the landing. The door of the bathroom opened outwards, and + with admirable presence of mind he rushed back, and putting + his back against the door and his feet against the wall, + imprisoned the corporal. The corporal, in the approved Shop + version of Billingsgate, began to blaspheme at the top of + his voice, so when the ladies reached the top of the stairs + they saw a vision of a cadet with his feet to the wall and + his back to a door singing at the top of his voice to drown + a Commotion within!</p> + + <p>On another occasion in my second year, when I was sharing a + room with one other fellow, I had a sister to tea. On arriving + in my room I found that my stablemate had been playing hockey, + and was at the moment in the bathroom, having thoughtlessly + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page229" + id="page229"></a>[pg 229]</span> left all his clothes in the + room—mostly on the floor.</p> + + <p>On the last day of my first term the corporals and officers + were all absent at a farewell dinner to the former, and we + received information that the third term were going to raid our + house, with a view to "toshing" us in a cold bath. We therefore + prepared for action. Every receptacle which would hold water + was taken to the upper landing, full. Then all the chairs in + the house were roped together, and placed on the stairs as an + obstacle. The defenders then took up their position at the + windows and at the top of the stairs. In due course the enemy's + forces arrived, and stormed the stairs, under a heavy fire of + water. The obstacle was at length destroyed, and a solid + phalanx of wet bodies swarmed up the stairs. We formed a + similar phalanx and charged to meet them. I happened to be + first, and much to my discomfiture + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page230" + id="page230"></a>[pg 230]</span> the enemy's phalanx parted + in the middle, and I was rapidly passed down the + stairs—a prisoner! Fortunately at the bottom I found a + relieving party from the next house, making a diversion on + the enemy's rear. With great valour we dragged down a foe, + and toshed him in the bath that had been made ready for us. + "The tosher toshed!"</p> + + <p>The next day we surveyed the damage. All the chairs and + banisters were broken, the whitewash was rubbed off the bricks + by wet shoulders and nearly all the basins were broken. That + day was the day of Lord Roberts's half-yearly inspection!</p> + + <p>There was not such another battle until my third term, when + we were the aggressors. This time the damage was even greater, + for the defenders let down tables across the stairs as an + obstacle, and we battered our way through with scaffolding + poles. There were some casualties that day, owing to an + indiscriminate use of mop + handles.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page231" + id="page231"></a>[pg 231]</span> + + <p>On the day of Lord Roberts's inspection we had to change + from parade dress to gym dress, and it was during the change + that Lord Roberts inspected our quarters. He went into one room + and found a fellow just half-way through his change—with + nothing at all on! The room was called to attention, and with + great presence of mind the boy dashed into the bed curtains and + stood to attention there, while Lord Roberts had an animated + conversation with him!</p> + + <p>There were jolly moments in the life at the Shop. On + Saturdays, after dinner, the unfortunates who had not got away + for the week-end used to have "stodges" after dinner. Having + put away a substantial dinner, we changed into flannels, and + used to crowd into some one's room, and eat muffins and smoke + cigars. I remember one night there were eighteen of us in one + small room.</p> + + <p>In order to go away for a week-end one + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page232" + id="page232"></a>[pg 232]</span> had to obtain (1) an + invitation, (2) permission from parent or guardian to accept + the invitation. One week my brother, who was working at the + Admiralty, offered his flat to myself and F——, + as he was going to Brighton himself. Fleming wrote to his + guardian—a Scotsman—for permission to stay with + Captain Hankey. The guardian wrote back for more + information. He saw by the Army List that Captain Hankey + existed, but who were the Hankeys? etc., etc. + F—— wrote back a furious letter, saying that he + expected to have his friends accepted without question, and + received the permission. We went. The awkward thing was that + Captain Hankey was not there, and we shuddered to think of + the rage of F——'s guardian if he should find + out. Worse still, the guardian was supposed to be staying at + the Oriental Club in Hanover Square, and my brother's flat + was in Oxford Street! However, we didn't + meet.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page233" + id="page233"></a>[pg 233]</span> + + <p>F—— and I neither of us knew London, and had the + time of our lives. We dined at Frascati's—a palace of + splendour in our eyes—and went to His Majesty's to see + Beerbohm Tree in Ulysses. When it came to Hades, we held each + other's hands! On Sunday we went to St. Peter's, Vere Street, + but were so furious at being kept waiting for pew holders long + after service had commenced, that we went on to the Audley + Street Chapel, a most queer little place. It was full of + monuments to the dependents of peers, in which the peers + figured very largely and the dependents fared humbly—the + epitome of flunkeydom. Among these tablets was one + inscribed—</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"To John Wilkes,</p> + + <p>Friend of Liberty."</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>Truly refreshing!</p> + + <p>We finished the day at some old friends of mine, and voted + the week-end a huge + success.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page234" + id="page234"></a>[pg 234]</span> + + <p>When I went to Woolwich I was just on the verge of getting + keen on games and beginning to feel self-confident, and to + enjoy the fellowship of my comrades. Woolwich nipped this in + the bud. I left with no self-confidence, having renounced + games, and with a sense of solitariness among my comrades. I + was a misanthrope, and the unhappiest sort of egotist—the + kind that dislikes himself. To say the truth, too, I was then, + and always have been, a bit of a funk, physically, which didn't + make me happier. On the other hand, I was an omnivorous reader + of everything which did not concern my profession, and a + dabbler in military history.</p> + + <p>I have sometimes thought that I was unconsciously a bit of a + hero at Woolwich, standing out for purity and religion in an + atmosphere of filth and blasphemy. I have come to the + conclusion, however, that there was nothing in this. As to the + general atmosphere, there is no doubt that it was + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page235" + id="page235"></a>[pg 235]</span> singularly pernicious; even + the officers and instructors contributed their quota of + filthy jokes, and there was no religious instruction or + influence at all except the parade service at the garrison + church on Sunday, if one happened not to be on leave. But as + to my heroism I am reluctantly compelled to be sceptical. I + went as far as I felt my inclination, and stopped after a + time because instinct was too strong the other way.</p> + + <p>As I have said before, I have always had an insurmountable + instinct for keeping rules. At school I could never bring + myself to transgress, although I knew that transgression was + the road to adventure. So at the Shop, however much I may have + wished to be in the swim, my instinct for the moral and + religious code of home was too strong for me. It required no + self-control to prevent myself from slipping into blasphemy and + filth. On the contrary, in order to do so I should have had to + violate my strongest instincts, and exercised a + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page236" + id="page236"></a>[pg 236]</span> will to evil much stronger + than any will power that I possessed at that time. If, when + I left Woolwich, I was comparatively pure, it was because + nature did not allow me to be anything else.</p> + + <p>To say the truth, I have never felt the sway of passions to + anything like the same extent as most men seem to. I have never + cared for the society of women for its sexual attraction. + Consequently all my women friends have been just the same to me + as my men friends—friends whom I could talk to about the + things that interested me.</p> + + <p>I don't boast of this, I only state the fact. I am not proud + of it because I know that some passion is necessary to make + heroes and even + saints.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page237" + id="page237"></a>[pg 237]</span> + <hr /> + <a name="SOME" + id="SOME"></a> + + <h2>SOME NOTES ON THE FRAGMENT OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY BY "HILDA"</h2> + + <p>I have before me as I write a pencil sketch, limned with + considerable care, of a rather disagreeable looking young man, + and beneath it is written—</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"D.W.A.H., by Himself."</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>It is a profile. The eye has almost disappeared under the + brow, the mouth is tightly closed to a degree that is quite + unpleasant and there is a deliberate exaggeration of a slight + defect he actually had—a tendency for the lower jaw to + protrude a little. This little defect hardly any of his friends + seem to have noticed, for most of them execrate it as a libel + in the otherwise admittedly beautiful photograph at the + beginning of this volume. The expression in the sketch is above + all—dubious.</p> + + <p>So did Donald see + himself.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page238" + id="page238"></a>[pg 238]</span> + + <p>For the rest of us no doubt the lessons Mr. Haselden has for + us in his caricatures, "ourselves as we see ourselves" and "as + others see us," are necessary. But not for Donald. The drawing + is pasted into an album which contains mainly Oxford College + groups, and there is a certain unpleasant resemblance between + it and his full face presentment in one of the groups—in + which he has "the group expression" rather badly. Assuming it + to have been drawn at Oxford, or not very long after he left, I + think it must belong very nearly to a time when he was going + off abroad on one of his long trips, and I had the sympathy of + a dear old lady friend of ours on having to part with him. I + remember replying, "Yes, it always seems as if peace and + happiness, truth and justice, religion and piety went with him + when he goes!" She laughed a good deal, and then said, + seriously, repeating over to herself the stately mounting + sixteenth century phrases, "But it's quite true, you know!" I + hardly think, though, that I should have said it of the young + man in the sketch!</p> + + <p>I am now going to make a comment or + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page239" + id="page239"></a>[pg 239]</span> two on my brother's + word-pictures as I should if he were by my side. But first I + should like his readers to know and realize that both were + written before the period of what I may call Donald's + "Renaissance," a period that can be roughly marked by the + publication of his first book, <i>The Lord of all Good + Life</i>.</p> + + <p>Up to then he had been struggling in vain for + self-expression. How he had worked the amount of MSS. he has + left alone proves—for we have it on a friend's testimony + that "he tore up much of what he wrote"; and he also had + experienced and suffered, violating his natural "timidity" and + his in some ways, precarious health, for he had never got over + certain weaknesses engendered by his illness in + Mauritius—in his struggle to get a true basis for a + solution of the meaning of life and of religion. What cost him + most was the knowledge that he was frequently doubted and + misunderstood by many of those whose approbation would have + been very dear to him. This is proved by his constantly + expressed gratitude to the one or two who never doubted him for + one moment.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page240" + id="page240"></a>[pg 240]</span> + + <p>With the writing of this book, as we know, all his + difficulties began to clear away, and at the same time he began + to reap the harvest of love and admiration that he had sown in + his toils to produce it. And the result was he opened out like + a flower to the sun! No one can doubt this for a moment who has + read his book of a year later, <i>The Student in Arms</i>, and + rejoiced in the radiant happiness of its inspiration.</p> + + <p>He had more than once said to me during the past two years, + "You know it makes a <i>tremendous</i> difference to me when + people really <i>like</i> me." No longer was it a case of "one + friend at a time." The period for that was over and done with. + He had come into his own. He was ready for a universal + brotherhood, and no hand would ever be held out to him in + vain.</p> + + <p>It is impossible to believe that he does not now know of and + appreciate all the beautiful tributes that have come to him + since his "passing"—from the perfect wreath of + immortelles weaved by Mr. Strachey to the sweet pansy of + thought dropped by a little fellow V.A.D. of mine + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page241" + id="page241"></a>[pg 241]</span> who said beautifully and + courageously—though knowing him solely through his + book—"We feel since he gave us his thought that he + belongs a tiny bit to us, too," thus voicing the feeling of + many.</p> + + <p>I believe the paper entitled "My Home" to have been written + at Oxford, and "School" not so very long after. In any case, I + have definite proof of their both belonging to Donald's + pre-"Renaissance" period, for the friendship with + F——, that began at "the Shop" and went under a + cloud for a time, was renewed with fresh vigour in 1914, and + has burned brightly ever since. Only last July was I sent by + him a letter of F——'s from the trenches, with the + injunction, "Please put this among my treasures," and there is + an allusion to a story told in this letter in the article + entitled "Romance" of the present volume.</p> + + <p>To return to "My Home," I question whether the love and + devotion of "Hilda" and "Ma" for Hugh was so entirely + unselfish. For my mother I fully believe, as for "Hilda," Hugh + was the epitome of all that was fine, splendid and joyous in + life. He was the glorious knight, the "preux + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page242" + id="page242"></a>[pg 242]</span> chevalier" "sans peur et + sans reproche," who rode forth at dawn with clean sword and + shining armour, and all the world before him, yet keeping + his heart for ever in his home. He was the child of her + youth as Donald was the child of her maturity. Deep down in + her wonderfully varied nature there were certain bottomless + springs of courage, daring and enterprise which she herself + had little chance of expressing and of which Hugh alone was + the personification.</p> + + <p>As long as I can remember Hugh had been my ideal and made + all the interest and joy of life for me. Whether he were at + home or abroad I never had a thought I did not share with him. + When he died, the best part of me died too, or was paralysed + rather, and Heaven knows what sort of a "substitute" I should + have been for "Ma" to Donald, had not the baby Hugh come, just + in time, with healing in his wings to restore life to the best + part of me!</p> + + <p>I am glad to think that Donald's "Autobiography" was written + before 1914, for I know that even before that I was becoming + more to him than a "substitute." I too have my memories and + pictures!</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page243" + id="page243"></a>[pg 243]</span> + + <p>It is May, 1915. I am in the country-house—cleaning is + going on at home.</p> + + <p>I get a letter to say that the Rifle Brigade may leave for + France at any time, and that Donald <i>may</i> get some "leave" + on Saturday or Sunday.</p> + + <p>I make a dash for town.</p> + + <p>There I find a telegram of reckless and unconscionable + length, running into two pages. He cannot come up—they + may leave at any moment. It seems hardly worth while my + bothering to come to Aldershot on the chance—he may be + unable to leave barracks.</p> + + <p>I write a return telegram—also of reckless and + unconscionable length, and reply paid—it is a relief to + do so—asking for a place of meeting at Aldershot to be + suggested.</p> + + <p>I get no answer at all, and on Sunday morning, in despair, I + go over to see my aunt and cousin. My aunt is my mother's + sister and a sportswoman. She counsels, "Go at all costs." + Dorothy will come with me: Dorothy is Donald's best woman + pal—she reminds him of his mother. She is all that is + wholesome and + comportable.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page244" + id="page244"></a>[pg 244]</span> + + <p>The element of enjoyment comes in, and I go home and pack a + nice lunch.</p> + + <p>We arrive at Aldershot.</p> + + <p>There is no one on the platform to meet us, and we push our + way through the turnstile.</p> + + <p>There is Donald, on the outskirts of the waiting + crowd—a tall, soldierly figure in the uniform of a + private—for he has resigned his sergeant's stripes by + now.</p> + + <p>His face is very boyish—not the face of the photograph + at the beginning of this book: that was taken after he had been + to France, and had been wounded, and had written "A Passing in + June," and "The Honour of the Brigade"—but a much younger + face, really boyish.</p> + + <p>He glances quickly and anxiously at every face that passes, + and each time he is a little more disappointed—but he + tries not to show it.</p> + + <p>I am not tall and cannot catch his eye. It is like being at + a play, watching him! All at once he sees me! Involuntarily a + sudden quick spasm of joy passes across his face, absolutely + transfiguring it.</p> + + <p>He smooths it away quickly, for he is a + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page245" + id="page245"></a>[pg 245]</span> Briton and does not like to + show his feelings—but he has given himself away!</p> + + <p>Dorothy and I shall never forget that look. And it was for + <i>me</i>—at first he does not see Dorothy. When he does + it is an added pleasure.</p> + + <p>With <i>two</i> ladies to escort he assumes a lordly + air.</p> + + <p>He had thought of everything. We would like some tea? Yes, + all the big places are shut as it is Sunday, but he has marked + down a little place on his way to the station.</p> + + <p>It is a lovely day, and we are very happy!</p> + + <p>The girl who waits upon us at the little tea place likes us, + and so do the other Tommies and their friends who are having + tea there.</p> + + <p>We sit at little tables, but at very close quarters with + each other, and we smile at them and they at us.</p> + + <p>I have brought Donald some letters, which pleases him, and + Dorothy has brought him some splendid socks, knitted by + herself.</p> + + <p>After tea we walk across an arid plain to a little wood, and + sit down under the + trees.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page246" + id="page246"></a>[pg 246]</span> + + <p>Donald changes to the new socks—those he had on were + wringing wet!</p> + + <p>He picks us little bunches of violets, hyacinths and wild + strawberry flowers—we have them still.</p> + + <p>We are very happy the whole of the day, and have my + sandwiches and cake and fruit for supper, there under the + trees. And here in thought let me leave "The Student in Arms," + who was to me part son, best pal, brother, comrade, and + counsellor on all subjects—and more than a little bit of + grandpapa!</p> + + <p>He could be so many different things because, as another + friend and cousin said, "he seemed to know everything about + everybody."</p> + + <p>I like to think of those two fine spirits—Hugh and + Donald—each with a hand to the tiny baby nephew, and a + word of greeting for me when I go over the top.</p> + + <center> + THE END + </center> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14823 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/14823-h/images/1.png b/14823-h/images/1.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..87c0084 --- /dev/null +++ b/14823-h/images/1.png diff --git a/14823-h/images/3.png b/14823-h/images/3.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8c641e1 --- /dev/null +++ b/14823-h/images/3.png diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..404d4e9 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #14823 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/14823) diff --git a/old/14823-8.txt b/old/14823-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a64496b --- /dev/null +++ b/old/14823-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3979 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Student in Arms, by Donald Hankey + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Student in Arms + Second Series + +Author: Donald Hankey + +Release Date: January 28, 2005 [EBook #14823] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A STUDENT IN ARMS *** + + + + +Produced by Rick Niles, William Flis, and the PG Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + +[Illustration: DONALD HANKEY] + +A + +STUDENT IN ARMS + +SECOND SERIES + +BY + +DONALD HANKEY + +WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY J. ST. LOE STRACHEY + +EDITOR OF _THE SPECTATOR_ + + +NEW YORK + +B.P. DUTTON & CO. + +681 FIFTH AVENUE + + + + +Published 1917 BY E.P. DUTTON & CO. + + + + +CONTENTS + + PAGE + + SOMETHING ABOUT "A STUDENT IN ARMS" 1 + + AUTHOR'S FOREWORD 33 + + I.--THE POTENTATE 37 + + II.--THE BAD SIDE OF MILITARY SERVICE 51 + + III.--THE GOOD SIDE OF "MILITARISM" 65 + + IV.--A MONTH'S REFLECTIONS 79 + + V.--ROMANCE 93 + + VI.--IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS (I) 109 + + VII.--THE FEAR OF DEATH IN WAR 115 + + VIII.--IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS (II) 127 + + IX.--THE WISDOM OF "A STUDENT IN ARMS" 139 + + X.--IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS (III) 145 + + XI.--LETTER TO AN ARMY CHAPLAIN 153 + + XII.--"DON'T WORRY" 165 + + XIII.--IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS (IV) 175 + + XIV.--A PASSING IN JUNE, 1915 181 + + XV.--MY HOME AND SCHOOL: + + I MY HOME 199 + + II SCHOOL 216 + + SOME NOTES ON THE FRAGMENT OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY BY "HILDA" 237 + + + + +SOMETHING ABOUT "A STUDENT IN ARMS" + +BY H.M.A.H. + + +"His life was a Romance of the most noble and beautiful kind." So says +one who has known him from childhood, and into how many dull, hard +and narrow lives has he not been the first to bring the element of +Romance? + +He carried it about with him; it breathes through his writings, +and this inevitable expression of it gives the saying of one of his +friends, that "it is as an artist that we shall miss him most," the +more significance. + +And does not the artist as well as the poet live forever in his works? +Is not the breath of inspiration that such alone can breathe into the +dull clods of their generation bound to be immortal? + +Meanwhile, his "Romance" is to be written and his biographer will be +one whose good fortune it has been to see much of the "Student" in +Bermondsey, the place that was the forcing-house of his development. +In the following pages it is proposed only to give an outline of his +life, and particularly the earlier and therefore to the public unknown +parts. + +Donald Hankey was born at Brighton in 1884; he was the seventh child +of his parents, and was welcomed with excitement and delight by a +ready-made family of three brothers and two sisters living on his +arrival amongst them. He was the youngest of them by seven years, and +all had their plans for his education and future, and waited jealously +for the time when he should be old enough to be removed from the +loving shelter of his mother's arms and be "brought up." + +His education did, as a matter of fact, begin at a very early age; for +one day, when he was perhaps about three years old, dressed in a white +woolly cap and coat, and out for his morning walk, a neighbouring baby +stepped across from his nurse's side and with one well-directed blow +felled Donald to the ground! Donald was too much astonished and hurt +at the sheer injustice of the assault to dream of retaliation, but +when they reached home and his indignant nurse told the story, he was +taken aside by his brothers and made to understand that by his failure +to resist the assault, and give the other fellow back as good as he +gave, "the honour of the family" was impugned! He was then and there +put through a systematic course of "the noble art of self-defence." +"And I think," said one of his brothers only the other day, "that he +was prepared to act upon his instructions should occasion arise." +It will be seen from this incident that his bringing-up was of a +decidedly strenuous character and likely to make Donald's outlook on +life a serious one! + +He was naturally a peace-loving and philosophical little boy, very +lovable and attractive with his large clear eyes with their curious +distribution of colour--the one entirely blue and the other three +parts a decided brown--the big head set proudly on the slender little +body, and the radiant illuminating smile, that no one who knew him +well at any time of his life can ever forget. It spoke of a light +within, "that mysterious light which is of course not physical," as +was said by one who met him only once, but was quick to note this +characteristic. + +Donald's more strenuous times were in the boys' holidays--those +tumultuous of seasons so well known to the members of all big +families! His eldest brother, Hugh, was bent on making an all-round +athlete of him; another brother saw in him an embryo county cricketer, +while a third was most particular about his music, giving him lessons +on the violoncello with clockwork regularity. The games were terribly +thrilling and dangerous, especially when the schoolroom was turned +into a miniature battlefield, with opposing armies of tiny lead +soldiers. But Donald never turned a hair if Hugh were present, even at +the most terrific explosions of gun-powder. His confidence in Hugh was +complete. Nor did he mind personal injuries. When on one occasion he +was hurled against the sharp edge of a chair, cutting his head open +badly, and his mother came to the rescue with indignation, sympathy +and bandages, whilst accepting the latter he deprecated the two +former, explaining apologetically, "It's only because my head's so +big." + +He admitted in after years to having felt most terribly swamped by the +personalities of two of his brothers. The third he had more in common +with, for he was more peace-loving, and he seemed to have more time +to listen to the small boy's confidences and stories, which Donald +started to write at the age of six. + +Hugh, however, was his hero--a kind of demi-god. And truly there +was something Greek about the boy--in his singular beauty of person, +coupled with his brilliant mental equipment, and above all in the +nothing less than Spartan methods with which, in spite of a highly +sensitive temperament, he set himself to overcome his handicap of +a naturally delicate physique and a bad head for heights. He turned +himself out quite an athlete, and actually cured his bad head by a +course of walking on giddy heights, preferably roofs--the parapet of +the tall four-storied house the children lived in being a favourite +training ground. + +Donald was the apple of his eye, and he was quick to note a certain +lack of vitality about the little boy--especially when he was growing +fast--and a certain natural timidity. His letters from school are full +of messages to and instructions concerning Donald's physical training, +and from Sandhurst he would long to "run over and see after his +boxing." He called him Don Diego, a name that suited the rather +stately little fellow, and he used to fear sometimes that Donald +was "getting too polite" and say he must "knock it out of him in +the holidays." Needless to say, his handling of him was always very +gentle. + +The other over-vital brother, if a prime amuser, was also a prime +tease, and being nearer Donald in age was also much less gentle. + +Before very long these great personages took themselves off "zum neuen +taten." But their Odysseys came home in the shape of letters, which, +with their descriptions of strange countries and peoples and records +of adventures--often the realization of boyish dreams--and also of +difficulties overcome, were well calculated to appeal to Donald's +childish imagination, and to increase his admiration for the +writers--and also his feeling of impotence, and of the impossibility +of being able to follow in the tracks of such giants among men! + +His mother, however, was his never-failing confidante and friend. +His love and admiration for her were unbounded, as for her courage, +unselfishness and constant thought for others, more especially for +the poor and insignificant among her neighbours. Though the humblest +minded of women, she could, when occasion demanded, administer a +rebuke with a decision and a fire that must have won the heartfelt +admiration of her diffident little son. + +He was not easily roused himself, but there is one instance of his +being so that is eminently characteristic. He had come back from +school evidently very perturbed, and at first his sister could get +nothing out of him. But at last he flared up. His face reddened, his +eyes burned like coals and, in a voice trembling with rage, he said, +"---- (naming a school-fellow) talks about things that I won't even +_think_!" + +At the age of about 14 he, too, went to Rugby, and there is an +interesting prophecy about him by his brother Hugh belonging to this +time. Hugh had by now earned a certain right to pronounce judgment, +having already started to fulfil his early promise by making some mark +as a soldier and a linguist. He had been invited to join the Egyptian +Army at a critical time in the campaign of 1897-98, thanks to his +proficiency in Arabic. His work was cut short by serious illness, the +long period of convalescence after which he had utilized in working +for and passing the Army Interpreter's examination in Turkish as +well as the higher one in Arabic and his promotion exam. All of which +achievements had been of use in helping him to wring out of the War +Office a promise of certain distinguished service in China. In a +letter home he writes:-- + + 2ND BATT. THE ROYAL WARWICKSHIRE, REGT., + THE CAMP, + COLCHESTER. + 28th Sept., 1899. + + MY DEAR MAMMA,-- + + I packed Donald off to school to-day in good time and + cold-less.... He was wonderfully calm and collected. He was + more at his ease in our mess than I should have been in a + strange mess, and made himself agreeable to his neighbours + without being forward. Also he looked very clean and smart, + and was altogether quite a success. + + That child has a future before him if his energy is up to + form, which I hope. His philosophy is most amazing. He looks + remarkably healthy, and is growing nicely.... + +Shortly after this letter was written the South African War broke out, +and before six months were over the writer was killed in action, at +the age of 27, whilst serving with the Mounted Infantry at Paardeberg. + +It was the first sorrow of Donald's life, but six months later he was +to suffer a yet more crushing blow in the loss of his dearly loved +mother. The loss of his best confidante and his ideal seemed at first +to stun the boy completely, and to cast him in upon himself entirely. +Later on he remembered that he had felt at that time that he had +nothing to say to any one. He had wondered what the others could have +thought of him, and had thought how dreadfully unresponsive they must +be finding him. His sister should have been of some use. But she +can only think of herself then as of some strange figure, veiled +and petrified with grief--grief _not_ for her mother, but for the +young hero whose magnetism had thrilled through every moment of her +life--yet pointing onwards, with mutely insistent finger, to the +path that her hero had trodden. And Donald, dazed also himself by +grief--though from another cause--of his own accord, placed his first +uncertain steps on the road that leads to military glory. No "voice" +warned him as yet, and he had no other decisive leading. + +If his sister failed him then, his father did not. Of him Donald wrote +recently to an aunt, "Papa's letters to me are a heritage whose value +can never diminish. His was indeed the pen of a ready writer, and +in his case, as in the case of many rather reserved people, the pen +did more justice to the man than the tongue. I never knew him until +Mamma's death, when the weekly letter from him took the place of hers, +and never stopped till I came home." + +At Rugby, Donald was accounted a dreamer. Without the outlet he +had hitherto had for his confidences and his thoughts no doubt the +tendency to dream grew upon him. "Behold this dreamer cometh," was +actually said of him by one of his masters. + +Nevertheless there were happy times when youth asserted itself and +boyish friendships were made. In work he did well, for he entered the +sixth form at the early age of 16½, and was thereby enabled, though he +left young, to have his name painted up "in hall" below those of his +three brothers, and also on his "study" door which belonged to each of +the four in turn. + +He entered the Royal Military Academy, Woolwich, straight from +Rugby, and before he was seventeen. We have his word for it that +he was spiritually very unhappy there, finding evils with which he +was impotent to grapple, going up as he did so young from school +and before he had had time to acquire a "games" reputation--that +all-important qualification for a boy if he wishes to influence +his fellows. Nevertheless youthful spirits were bound to triumph +sometimes. He was a perfectly sound and healthy, well-grown boy and a +friend who was with him at "the Shop" says he can remember no apparent +trace of unhappiness, and is full of tales of his jokes and his fun, +his quaint caricatures and doggerel rhymes, his love of flowers and +nature, his hospitalities, and his joy in getting his friends to meet +and know and like each other. Though he made no mark at Woolwich he +did carry off the prize for the best essay on the South African War. +With it he made his first appearance in print, for it was printed in +the R.M.A. Magazine. While he was at Woolwich the family circle was +enlarged by the arrival of a cousin from Australia, and she and Donald +became the greatest of friends. She reminded him in some way of his +mother, and this made all the difference. + +The Island of Mauritius, to which he was sent at the age of twenty, +not so very long after having received his commission in the Royal +Garrison Artillery, stood for him later on, he has told us, as +"Revelation"--"for there it was that I was first a sceptic, and was +first shown that I could not remain one." Also towards the end of his +stay there, when he was doubting as to what course he should take, +a sentence came to him insistently, "Would you know Christ? Lo, He +is working in His vineyard." It was these things that decided him +eventually to resign his commission, but of them his letters home +make little or no mention. They are full, on the other hand, of +descriptions of the beauties of the Island which, curious, odd, +freakish and unexpected, held him as did those of no other place. The +curious inconsistencies of the Creole nature also interested him, and +he spent much of his spare time sketching and studying the people. Two +friendships he made there were diverse and lasting, but he complains +very much of feeling the lack of a woman friend--no one to tease and +pick flowers for! + +While he was still there, there appeared at home a baby +nephew--another "Hugh"--"trailing clouds of glory," but to return all +too soon to his "Eternal Home." Some years previously, when his eldest +sister had told him of her engagement, he congratulated her warmly, +and said he "had always longed for a nephew"! He never saw the child, +but wrote after his death that he had heard so much about him that +he seemed to know him, and "I think I must have played with him in +my dreams." Possibly the baby nephew, in his short ten months of +life, did more for his uncle than either knew, for no frozen hearts +could do otherwise than melt in the presence of the insistent needs +of that gallant little spirit and fragile little body, and a more +whole-hearted sister was awaiting him on his return home, which took +place at the end of two years, after he had fallen a victim to the +prevalent complaint in the R.G.A--abscess on the liver. It was caused +by the shocking conditions under which the R.G.A. had to live in +Mauritius during that hot summer when the Russian Fleet sojourned +in Madagascan waters, and in Donald's case it necessitated a severe +operation. + +His joy in his homecoming was quickly clouded over, for his father +died only a month or two after his return; not, however, before he +had given a delighted acquiescence to Donald's proposal to resign +his commission and go to Oxford in order to study theology--his own +favourite pursuit--with the object of eventually taking Holy Orders. + +In the spring of 1907 Donald took a trip to Italy with his sister and +a Rhodes Scholar cousin from Australia. It was the young men's first +visit, and each brought back a special trophy: Donald's, a large +photograph of a fine virile "Portrait of a man" by Giorgione in black +and white, and his cousin, a sweet Madonna head by Luini. + +Donald gave his sister her trophy on their return home, in remembrance +of the lectures she had given the two of them on the pre-Raphaelite +painters in Florence. It took the form of a water-colour caricature of +herself, sitting enthroned in a Loggia as a sort of Sybil Saint with +a halo and a book (Baedeker). Behind her, and outlined against a pale +sky as seen through an archway of the Loggia in the typical Florentine +fashion, are the blue mountains near Florence, some tall cypresses, +a campanile and a castle perched on the top of a hill--all features +of the landscapes through which they had passed together. In the +foreground are himself and his cousin as monks adoring, also with +haloes, and expressions of mock ecstasy! + +On his return Donald went for a few months to Rugby House, the Rugby +School Mission, in order to cram for Oxford. He thereby made a friend, +and learned to love Browning. + +After living so long at Brighton, and then in barracks, the beauty of +Oxford was in itself alone a revelation to him. The work there, too, +was entirely congenial. As a gunner subaltern he had been a square peg +in a round hole. As regards the work there had been far too much to +be accepted on authority for one of his fundamental type of mind; the +relations existing between an officer and his men--in peace time, +at any rate--seemed to him hardly human, and the making of quick +decisions, which an officer is continually called upon to do, was +then as always very difficult to him. His tastes, too, unusual in a +subaltern, had made him rather lonely. He found much more in common +with the undergraduate than with the subaltern. Going up as an +"oldster" (22) was to him an advantage rather than otherwise, for his +six years in the Army had given him a certain prestige which was a +help to his natural diffidence, and helped to open more doors to him, +so that he was not limited to any set. + +He gained some reputation as a host, for he had the born host's gift +of getting the right people together and making them feel at their +ease. There was also, as a rule, some little individual touch about +his entertainments that made them stand out. His manner, though +naturally boyish and shy, could be both gay and debonair, quite +irresistible in fact, when he was surrounded by congenial spirits! He +played hockey, and was made a member of several clubs, sketched and +made beautiful photographs. His time he divided strictly between the +study of man and the study of theology, and though he did much hard, +thorough and careful work in connexion with the latter, he always +maintained that for a man who was going to be a parson the former was +the more important study of the two. + +He used, however, to complain much at this time of feeling himself +incapable of any very strong emotion, even that of sorrow. + +No doubt there is more stimulation to the brain than to the heart in +the highly critical atmosphere of all phases of the intellectual life +at Oxford; also Donald had hardly yet got over the shocks of his youth +and the loneliness of his life abroad. He was, too, essentially and +curiously the son of his father--even to his minor tastes, such as his +connoisseur's palate for a good wine and his judgment in "smokes"--and +this feeling of a certain detachment from the larger emotions of life +was always his father's pose--the philosopher's. In his father's case +it was perhaps engendered, if not necessitated, by his poor health and +wretched nerves. + +But can we not trace his dissatisfaction at this time in what he felt +to be his cold philosophical attitude towards life to the same cause +as much of the misery he suffered as a boy! In the paper he calls +"School," which follows with that entitled "Home," he tells us how he +would have liked to have chastised a school-fellow "had he dared," +and his failure to dare was evidently what reduced him to the state of +impotent rage described on page 9 of this sketch. Again at Woolwich, +what made him unhappy was not so much the evils which he saw but +his impotence to deal with them. So now again at Oxford he feels +"impotent," impotent this time to feel and sympathize as he would +have wished with suffering humanity. But within him was the light, +"the light which is, of course, not physical," which betrayed itself +through his wonderful smile--the same now as in babyhood; and from +his mother, and perhaps also from the young country that gave her +birth, he had inherited, as well as her great heart and broad human +sympathies, the vigour that was to carry him through the experiences +by means of which, in the fullness of time, that light, no longer +dormant, was to break into a flame of infinite possibilities. + +Donald's one complaint against Oxford was that the ideas that are born +and generated there so often evaporate in talk and smoke. He left with +the determination to "do," but before going on to a Clergy School he +decided to accept a friend's invitation to visit him in savage Africa +so that he might think things over, and put to the test, far away from +the artificialities of Modern Life, the ideas he had assimilated in +the highly sophisticated atmosphere of Oxford. As he quaintly put it: +"Since Paul went into Arabia for three years, I don't see why I should +not go to British East Africa for six months!" He did not, however, +stay the whole time there, but re-visited his beloved Mauritius, and +also stayed in Madagascar. + +The beginning of 1911 found him at the Clergy School. But what he +wanted he did not find there. During his Oxford vacations he had made +many expeditions to poorer London, at first to Notting Dale where +was the Rugby School Mission, and afterwards to Bermondsey. But these +expeditions had not been entirely satisfactory. He had then gone as +a "visitor." The lessons he wanted to learn now from "the People" +could only be learned by becoming as far as possible one of them. The +story of his struggles to do so in his life in Bermondsey, and of +his journey to Australia in the steerage of a German liner and of his +roughing it there, always with the same object in view, cannot be told +here. The first outcome of it all was the writing of his book, _The +Lord of All Good Life_. Of this book he says, in a letter to his +friend Tom Allen of the Oxford and Bermondsey Mission: + +"The book I regard as my child. I feel quite absurdly about it; to me +it is the sudden vision of what lots of obscure things really meant. +It is coming out of dark shadows into--moonlight ... I would have you +to realize that it was written spontaneously in a burst, in six weeks, +without any consultation of authorities or any revision to speak of. +I had tried and tried, but without success. Then suddenly everything +cleared up. To myself, the writing of it was an illumination. I did +not write it laboriously and with calculation or because I wanted to +write a book and be an author. I wrote it because problems that had +been troubling me suddenly cleared up and because writing down the +result was to me the natural way of getting everything straight in my +own mind." + +The book was written not away in the peace of the country, nor in the +comparative quiet of a certain sunny little sitting-room I know of, +looking on to a leafy back garden in Kensington, where Donald often +sat and smoked and wrote, but in a little flat in a dull tenement +house in a grey street in Bermondsey, where I remember visiting him +with a cousin of his. + +Here the Student lived like a lord--for Bermondsey! For he possessed +two flats, one for his "butler"--a sick-looking young man in list +slippers, and his wife and family--and the other for himself. + +The little sitting-room in which he entertained us was very pleasant, +with light walls, a bright table-cloth, a gleam of something brass +that had come from Ceylon, one or two gaily painted dancing shields +from Africa, and two barbaric looking dolls, about a foot high, +dressed chiefly in beads and paint, that he had picked up in an +Antananarivo shop in Madagascar. They came in usefully when he was +lecturing on Missions! + +His bedroom he did not want us to see. It struck cold and appeared to +be reeking with damp! + +The weather had been rather dull when we arrived, but suddenly there +was a glint of sunshine, and a grind-organ that had wandered up the +street started playing just opposite. Two couple of children began +to dance. A girl with a jug stopped to watch them, and mothers with +babies came to their doors. A window was thrown open opposite and a +whole family of children leaned out to see the fun. + +Bermondsey was gay, and after we had gone the "Student" perpetuated +the fact in a water-colour drawing which he sent to his cousin +afterwards. + +In the evening, however, the sounds would be more discordant, also +the Student was running a Boys' Club, taking several Sunday services +at the Mission, visiting some very sick people, and attending to a +multifarious list of duties which left me breathless when I saw it, +knowing too how many casual appeals always came to him and that he +never was known to refuse a helping hand to any one! Nevertheless +it was there, and in six weeks, that the _Lord of All Good Life_ was +written! + +"Then came the war," and the Student shall tell us in his own words +what it meant to him. Writing still to Tom Allen, who had also +enlisted, and afterwards also gave his life in the war, he says: + +"For myself the war was, in a sense, a heaven-sent opportunity. Ever +since I left Leeds I have been trying to follow out the theory that +the proper subject of study for the theologian was man, and had +increasingly been made to feel that nothing but violent measures could +overcome my own shyness sufficiently to enable me to study outside +my own class. Enlistment had always appealed to me as one of the few +feasible methods of ensuring the desired results.... + +"I was interested to hear that you found the ---- so illuminating as +regards human potentialities for bestiality. I think that I plumbed +the depths between sixteen and a half and twenty-two. I have learned +nothing more since then about bestiality. In fact I am hardened, and, +I am afraid, take it for granted. Since then I have been discovering +human goodness, which is far more satisfactory. And oh, I have found +it! In Bermondsey, in the stinking hold of the _Zieten_, in the wide, +thirsty desert of Western Australia, and in the ranks of the 7th +Battalion of the Rifle Brigade. I enlisted very largely to find out +how far I really believed in the brotherhood of man when it comes to +the point--and I do believe in it more and more." + +Donald Hankey enlisted in August, 1914, and after a period of +training, part of which was certainly the happiest time of his life, +he went to the front in May, 1915, coming home wounded in August, when +he wrote for the _Spectator_ most of the articles that were published +anonymously the following spring under the title of _A Student in +Arms_. Before he left hospital he received a commission in his old +regiment, the R.G.A., but still finding himself with no love for +big guns, he transferred to his eldest brother's regiment, the Royal +Warwickshire, hoping that by doing so he might get back to the front +the sooner. He did not, however, leave until May, 1916, after he had +written his contribution to _Faith or Fear_. + +Most of the numbers of the present volume were written in or near +the trenches, and a fellow-officer gave his sister an interesting +description of how it was done. "Your brother," said he, "will sit +down in a corner of a trench, with his pipe, and write an article for +the _Spectator_, or make funny sketches for his nephews and nieces, +when none of the rest of us could concentrate sufficiently even to +write a letter." + +On October 6th, Donald Hankey wrote home: "We shall probably be +fighting by the time you get this letter, but one has a far better +chance of getting through now than in July. I shall be very glad if we +do have a scrap, as we have been resting quite long enough. Of course +one always has to face possibilities on such occasions; but we have +faced them in advance, haven't we? I believe with all my soul that +whatever will be, will be for the best. As I said before, I should +hate to slide meanly into winter without a scrap.... I have a top-hole +platoon--nearly all young, and nearly all have been out here eighteen +months--thoroughly good sporting fellows; so if I don't do well it +will be my fault." + +Six days after this the Student knelt down for a few seconds with his +men--we have it on the testimony of one of them--and he told them a +little of what was before them: "If wounded, 'Blighty'; if killed, the +Resurrection." Then "over the top." He was last seen alive rallying +his men, who had wavered for a moment under the heavy machine gun and +rifle fire. He carried the waverers along with him, and was found that +night close to the trench, the winning of which had cost him his life, +with his platoon sergeant and a few of his men by his side. + +What wonder that his cousin and best friend, when asked a short time +previously what he was like, had replied, "He is the most beautiful +thing that ever happened." + + + + +AUTHOR'S FOREWORD + +(BEING EXTRACTS FROM LETTERS TO HIS SISTER) + + +"I am very much wondering whether you will receive 'A Diary' in four +parts. It is very much founded on fact, though altered in parts. You +will probably be surprised at a certain change in tone, but remember +that my previous articles were written in England, while this was +written on the spot.... The Diary was not my diary, though it was +so very nearly what mine might have been that it is difficult to +say what is fiction and what is actuality in it. With regard to the +'conversation' during the bombardment, it represents in its totality +what I believe the ordinary soldier feels. He loathes the war, and the +grandiloquent speeches of politicians irritate him by their failure to +realize how loathesome war is. At the same time he knows he has got to +go through with it, and only longs for the chance to hurry up. In the +'Diary,' again, I quite deliberately emphasized the depression of the +man who thought he was being left out, and the mental effect of the +clearing-up process because I thought that it would be a good thing +for people to realize this side, and also partly because I felt that +in previous articles I had glossed over it too much.... If I get a +chance of publishing another book I shall certainly include them." + + _Note_.--Not only "A Diary" and "Imaginary Conversations," but + every paper in the present collection, with the exception of + "The Wisdom," "The Potentate," and "A Passing in June," were + written in France in 1916, and many of them actually in the + trenches. The rough sketch for "A Passing in June" was written + in France in 1915, but was completed when the author was in + hospital at home. + + "The Potentate" was written for the original volume of _A + Student in Arms_, but was not published on account of its + likeness in subject to Barrie's play, _Der Tag_, which, + however, Donald had not seen or even heard of when he wrote + his own. + + + + +I + +THE POTENTATE[1] + + + SCENE. _A tent (interior). The_ POTENTATE _is sitting at a + table listening to his_ COURT CHAPLAIN. + +[Footnote 1: It is necessary to state that _The Potentate_ was written +before Sir James Barrie's play _Der Tag_ appeared.] + +COURT CHAPLAIN (_concluding his remarks_). Where can we look for the +Kingdom of God, Sire, if not among the German people? Consider your +foes. The English are Pharisees, hypocrites. Woe to them, saith +the Lord. The French are atheists. The Belgians are ignorant and +priest-ridden. The Russians are sunk in mediæval superstition. As for +the Italians, half are atheists and the other half idolators. Only +in Germany do you find a reasonable and progressive faith, devoid +of superstition, abreast of scientific thought, and of the highest +ethical value. Germany then, Sire, is the Kingdom of God on earth. The +Germans are the chosen people, the heirs of the promise, and let their +enemies be scattered! + + (_The_ POTENTATE _rises, leans forward with his hands on the + table, and an expression of extreme gratification, while the_ + CHAPLAIN _stands with a smug and respectful smile on his white + face._) + +POTENTATE. You are right, my dear Clericus, abundantly right. Very +well put indeed! Yes, Germany is the Kingdom of God, and I (_drawing +himself up to his full height_)--I am Germany! The strength of the +Lord is in my right arm, and He teaches it terrible things for the +unbeliever and the hypocrite. With God I conquer! Good-night, my dear +Clericus, good-night. + + (CLERICUS _departs with a low bow, and_ _the_ POTENTATE _sinks + into his chair with a gesture of fatigue. Enter a_ GENERAL _of + the Headquarters Staff with telegrams._) + +POTENTATE (_brightening_). Ha, my dear General, you have news? + +GENERAL. Excellent news, Sire! On the Eastern front the Russians +continue to give way. In the West a French attack has been repulsed +with heavy loss, and our gallant Prussians have driven the British out +of half a mile of trenches. + + (_At this last bit of news the_ POTENTATE _springs to his feet + with a look of joy._) + +POTENTATE. A sign! My God, a sign! Pardon, General, I was thinking of +a conversation that I have just had with Dr. Clericus. Come now, show +me where these trenches are. + + (_The_ GENERAL _produces a map, over which they pore + together._) + +POTENTATE. Excellent, excellent! A most valuable capture. Our losses +were ...? + +GENERAL. Slight, Sire. + +POTENTATE. Better and better. I cannot afford to lose my good +Prussians, my heroic, my invincible Prussians. To what do you +attribute the success? + +GENERAL. The success was due in a large measure to the perfection +of the apparatus suggested a week ago by your Majesty's scientific +adviser. + +POTENTATE (_blanching a little_). Ah, then it was not a charge, eh? + +GENERAL. The charge followed, Sire; but the work was already done. The +defenders of the trench were already dead or dying before our heroes +reached it. + +POTENTATE (_sinking back in his chair with his finger to his lips, +and a slight frown_). Thank you, General, your news is of the best. +I will detain you no longer. (_The_ GENERAL _bows._) Stay! Has a +counterattack been launched yet? + +GENERAL. Not yet, Sire. No doubt one will be attempted to-night. Our +men are prepared. + +POTENTATE. Good. Bring me fresh news as soon as it arrives. +Good-night, General, good-night. + + (_Exit_ GENERAL.) + + (_The_ POTENTATE _sits musing for a considerable time. A + slight cough is heard, and he raises his head._) + +POTENTATE (_slowly_). Enter! + + (_Enter a tall figure in a long black academic gown and black + clothes._) + +POTENTATE (_with an attempt at gaiety_). Come in, my dear Sage, come +in. You are welcome. (_A little anxiously_) You have the crystal? +Good. How is the Master? Still busy devising new means of victory? + +THE SAGE. My master's poor skill is always at your service, Sire. You +have only to command. + +POTENTATE. I know it. Now let me have the crystal. I would see if +possible the scene of to-day's victory in Flanders. + + (_The_ SAGE _hands him the crystal with a low bow. The_ + POTENTATE _seizes it eagerly, and gazes into it. A pause._) + +POTENTATE (_raising his head suddenly_). Horrible, horrible! + +SAGE. Sire? + +POTENTATE. This last invention of your master's is inhuman! + +SAGE. War is inhuman, Sire. Where a speedy end is desired, is it not +kindest to be cruel? + + (_The_ POTENTATE _gazes again into the crystal,_ _but starts + up immediately with a gasp of horror._) + +POTENTATE. Again the same vision! Always after my victories the vision +of the Crucified, with the stern reproachful eyes! Am I not the Lord's +appointed instrument? What means it? Tell your master that I will have +no more of his inventions. They are too diabolical! They imperil my +cause! + +SAGE (_pointing to the crystal_). Look again, Sire. + +POTENTATE (_gazing into the crystal, and in a low and agonized +voice_). Time with his scythe raised menacingly against me. +(_Abruptly_) This is a trickery, Sirrah! Have a care! But I will not +be tricked. Are my troops not brave? Are they not invincible? Can they +not win by their proven valour? Who can stand against them, for the +strength of the Lord is in their right hands? + + (_Enter GENERAL hastily_) + +GENERAL. Sire.... (_He starts, and stops short_). + +POTENTATE (_testily_). Go on, go on. What is it? + +GENERAL. Sire, the English counterattack has for the moment succeeded. +Infuriated by their defeat they fought so that no man could resist +them. They have regained the trenches they had lost, but we hope to +attack again to-morrow, when-- + +POTENTATE. Enough! Leave me! + + (_The_ GENERAL _withdraws, and the_ POTENTATE _leans forward + with his head on his hands._) + +SAGE (_commiseratingly_). Apparently other troops are brave besides +your own, Sire! + +POTENTATE (_brokenly_). The cowards! The cowards! Five nations against +three! Alas, my poor Prussians! + +SAGE. If you will look once more into the crystal, Sire, I think you +will see something that will interest you. + + (_The_ POTENTATE _takes the crystal again, but without + confidence._) + +POTENTATE (_in a slow recitative_). A stricken field by night. The +dead lie everywhere, German and English, side by side. But all are not +dead. Some are but wounded. They help one another. Prussian and Briton +help one another, with painful smiles on their white faces. What? Have +they forgotten their hate? My Prussians! Can you so soon forget? I +mourn for you! But who are these? White figures, vague, elusive! See, +they seem to come down from above. They are carrying away the souls +of my Prussians! And of the accursed English! What! One Paradise for +both! Impossible! And who is that watching? He who with a smile so +loving, and yet so stern ... Ah!... My God ... no!... not I.... + + (_The_ POTENTATE _rises with a strangled cry, and sinks into + his chair a nerveless wreck. The_ SAGE _watches coolly, with a + cynical smile._) + +SAGE. So, Sire, you must find room for the English in that kingdom of +yours and God's! Perchance it is more catholic than we had thought! + + (_The_ POTENTATE _groans._) + +SAGE. Sire, you have seen some truth to-night. Is courage, is God, all +on your side? Is Time on your side? Shall I go back to my master and +tell him that you need no more of his inventions? + + (_He pauses, and glances at the_ POTENTATE _with a look of + contempt, and then turns to go. The_ POTENTATE _looks round + him with a ghastly stare._) + +POTENTATE (_feebly_). No ... the Crucified ... Time ... Stay, stay! + + (_The_ SAGE _turns with a gesture of triumph._) + + (_Curtain._) + + + + +II + +THE BAD SIDE OF MILITARY SERVICE + + +A Padre who has earned the right to talk about the "average Tommy," +writes to me that _A Student in Arms_ gives a very one-sided picture +of him. While cordially admitting his unselfishness, his good +comradeship, his patience, and his pluck, my friend challenges me +to deny that military, and especially active, service often has a +brutalizing effect on the soldier, weakening his moral fibres, and +causing him to sink to a low animal level. + +Those who are in the habit of reading between the lines will, I +think, often have seen the shadow of this darker side of army life +on the pages of _A Student in Arms_; but I have not written of it +specifically for several reasons. It will suffice if I mention two. +First, I was writing mainly of the private and the N.C.O. Rightly +or wrongly, I imagined that those for whom I was writing were in the +habit of taking for granted this darker side of life in the ranks. I +imagined that they thought of the "lower classes" as being naturally +coarser and more animal than the "upper classes." I wanted then, and I +want now, to contradict that belief with all the vehemence of which I +am capable. Officers and men necessarily develop different qualities, +different forms of expression, different mental attitudes. But I am +confident that I speak the truth when I say that essentially, and in +the eyes of God there is nothing to choose between them. + +If I must write of the brutalizing effect of war on the soldier, let +it be clearly understood that I am speaking, not of officers only, +nor of privates only, but of fighting men of every class and rank. +As a matter of fact I have never, whether before or during the war, +belonged to a mess where the tone was cleaner or more wholesome than +it was in the Sergeants' Mess of my old battalion. + +My second reason for not writing about the bad side of Army life was +that mere condemnation is so futile. I have listened to countless +sermons in which the "lusts of the flesh" were denounced, and have +known for certain that their power for good was _nil_. If I write +about it now, it is only because I hope that I may be able to make +clearer the causes and processes of such moral deterioration as +exists, and thus to help those who are trying to combat it, to do so +with greater understanding and sympathy. + +Even in England most officers, and all privates, are cut off from +their womenfolk. Mothers, sisters, wives, and sweethearts are +inaccessible. All have a certain amount of leisure, and very little +to do with it. All are physically fit and mentally rather unoccupied. +All are living under an unnatural discipline from which, when the +last parade of the day is over, there is a natural reaction. Finally, +wherever there are troops, and especially in war time, there are "bad" +women and weak women. The result is inevitable. A certain number of +both officers and men "go wrong." + +Fifteen months ago I was a private quartered in a camp near Aldershot. +After tea it began to get dark. The tent was damp, gloomy, and cold. +The Y.M.C.A. tent and the Canteen tent were crowded. One wandered off +to the town. The various soldiers' clubs were filled and overflowing. +The bars required more cash than one possessed. The result was that +one spent a large part of one's evenings wandering aimlessly about +the streets. Fortunately I discovered an upper room in a Wesleyan +soldiers' home, where there was generally quiet, and an empty chair. +I shall always be grateful to that "home," for the many hours which I +whiled away there with a book and a pipe. But most of us spent a great +deal of our leisure, bored and impecunious, "on the streets"; and if +a fellow ran up against "a bit of skirt," he was generally just in the +mood to follow it wherever it might lead. The moral of this is, double +your subscriptions to the Y.M.C.A., Church huts, soldiers' clubs, or +whatever organization you fancy! You will be helping to combat vice in +the only sensible way. + +I don't suppose that the officers were much better off than we were. +Their tents may have been a little lighter and less crowded than ours. +They had a late dinner to occupy part of the long evening. They had +more money to spend, and perhaps more to occupy their minds. But I +fancy that as great a proportion of them as of us took the false step; +and though perhaps when they compared notes their language may have +been less blunt than ours, I am not sure that, for this very reason, +it may not have been more poisonous. But mind you, we did not all +go wrong, by any means, though I believe that some fellows did, both +officers and men, who would not have done so if they had stayed at +home with their mothers, sisters, sweethearts, or wives. + +So much for the Army at home. When we cross the Channel every feature +is a hundred times intensified. Consider the fighting man in the +trenches--and I am still speaking of both officers and men--the most +ordinary refinements of life are conspicuously absent. There is no +water to wash in. Vermin abound, sleeping and eating accommodations +are frankly disgusting. One is obliged for the time to live like a +pig. Added to this one is all the time in a state of nervous tension. +One gets very little sleep. Every night has its anxieties and +responsibilities. Danger or death may come at any moment. So for a +week or a fortnight or a month, as the case may be. Then comes the +return to billets, to comparative safety and comfort--the latter +nothing to boast about though! Tension is relaxed. There is an +inevitable reaction. Officers and men alike determine to "gather +rosebuds" while they may. Their bodies are fit, their wills are +relaxed. If they are built that way, and an opportunity offers, they +will "satisfy the lusts of the flesh." + +When there is real fighting to be done the dangers of the +after-reaction are intensified. You who sit at home and read of +glorious bayonet charges do not realize what it means to the man +behind the bayonet. You don't realize the repugnance for the first +thrust--a repugnance which has got to be overcome. You don't realize +the change that comes over a man when his bayonet is wet with the +blood of his first enemy. He "sees red." The primitive "blood-lust," +kept under all his life by the laws and principles of peaceful +society, surges through his being, transforming him, maddening him +with the desire to kill, kill, kill! Ask any one who has been through +it if this is not true. And that letting loose of a primitive lust is +not going to be without its effect on a man's character. + +At the same time, of course, not all of us become animals out here. +There are other influences at work. Caring for the wounded, burying +the mutilated dead, cause one to hate war, and to value ten times more +the ways of peace. Many are saved from sinking in the scale, by a love +of home which is able to bridge the gulf which separates them +from their beloved. The letters of my platoon are largely love +letters--often the love letters of married men to their wives. + +There is immorality in the Army; when there is opportunity immorality +is rife. Possibly there is more abroad than there is at home. If so it +is because there is far greater temptation. Nevertheless, I fancy that +my correspondent, who is a padre, a don, and at least the beginning of +a saint, is perhaps inclined to exaggerate the extent of the evil in +the Army as compared with civil life. I imagine that very few padres, +especially if they are dons, and most of all if they are saints, +realize that in civil life as in Army life, the average man is +immoral, both in thought and deed. Let us be frank about this. What +a doctor might call the "appetites" and a padre the "lusts" of the +body, hold dominion over the average man, whether civilian or soldier, +unless they are counteracted by a stronger power. The only men who +are pure are those who are absorbed in some pursuit, or possessed by a +great love; be it the love of clean, wholesome life which is religion, +or the love of a noble man which is hero-worship, or the love of a +true woman. These are the four powers which are stronger than "the +flesh"--the zest of a quest, religion, hero-worship, and the love of +a good woman. If a man is not possessed by one of these he will be +immoral. + +Probably most men are immoral. The conditions of military, and +especially of active service merely intensify the temptation. Unless +a soldier is wholly devoted to the cause, or powerfully affected by +religion, or by hero-worship, or by pure love, he is immoral. + +Perhaps most men are immoral if they get the chance. Most soldiers +are immoral if they get the chance. But those who are trying to help +the soldier can do so with a good heart if they realize that in +him they have a foundation on which to build. Already he is half a +hero-worshipper. Already he half believes in the beauty of sacrifice +and in the life immortal. Already he is predisposed to value +exceedingly all that savours of clean, wholesome home life. On that +foundation it should be possible to build a strong idealism which +shall prevail against the flesh. And this is my last word--it is by +building up, and not by casting down, that the soldier can be saved +from degradation. The devil that possesses so many can only be cast +out by an angel that is stronger than he. + + + + +III + +THE GOOD SIDE OF "MILITARISM" + + +I had a letter the other day from an Oxford friend. In it was this +phrase: "I loathe militarism in all its forms." Somehow it took me +back quite suddenly to the days before the war, to ideas that I had +almost completely forgotten. I suppose that in those days the great +feature of those of us who tried to be "in the forefront of modern +thought" was their riotous egotism, their anarchical insistence on the +claims of the individual at the expense even of law, order, society, +and convention. "Self-realization" we considered to be the primary +duty of every man and woman. + +The wife who left her husband, children, and home because of her +passion for another man was a heroine, braving the hypocritical +judgments of society to assert the claims of the individual soul. +The woman who refused to abandon all for love's sake, was not only +a coward but a criminal, guilty of the deadly sin of sacrificing her +soul, committing it to a prison where it would languish and never +blossom to its full perfection. The man who was bound to uncongenial +drudgery by the chains of an early marriage or aged parents dependent +on him, was the victim of a tragedy which drew tears from our eyes. +The woman who neglected her home because she needed a "wider sphere" +in which to develop her personality was a champion of women's rights, +a pioneer of enlightenment. And, on the other hand, the people +who went on making the best of uncongenial drudgery, or in any way +subjected their individualities to what old-fashioned people called +duty, were in our eyes contemptible poltroons. + +It was the same in politics and religion. To be loyal to a party +or obedient to a Church was to stand self-confessed a fool or a +hypocrite. Self-realization, that was in our eyes the whole duty of +man. + +And then I thought of what I had seen only a few days before. First, +of battalions of men marching in the darkness, steadily and in step, +towards the roar of the guns; destined in the next twelve hours to +charge as one man, without hesitation or doubt, through barrages +of cruel shell and storms of murderous bullets. Then, the following +afternoon, of a handful of men, all that was left of about three +battalions after ten hours of fighting, a handful of men exhausted, +parched, strained, holding on with grim determination to the last bit +of German trench, until they should receive the order to retire. And +lastly, on the days and nights following, of the constant streams +of wounded and dead being carried down the trench; of the unceasing +search that for three or four days was never fruitless. + +Self-realization! How far we have travelled from the ideals of those +pre-war days. And as I thought things over I wondered at how faint a +response that phrase, "I loathe militarism in all its forms," found in +my own mind. + +Before the war I too hated "militarism." I despised soldiers as men +who had sold their birthright for a mess of pottage. The sight of +the Guards drilling in Wellington Barracks, moving as one man to the +command of their drill instructor, stirred me to bitter mirth. They +were not men but manikins. When I first enlisted, and for many months +afterwards, the "mummeries of military discipline," the saluting, the +meticulous uniformity, the rigid suppression of individual exuberance, +chafed and infuriated me. I compared it to a ritualistic religion, a +religion of authority only, which depended not on individual assent +but on tradition for its sanctions. I loathed militarism in all its +forms. Now ... well, I am inclined to reconsider my judgment. Seeing +the end of military discipline, has shown me something of its ethical +meaning--more than that, of its spiritual meaning. + +For though the part of the "great push" that it fell to my lot to see +was not a successful part, it was none the less a triumph--a spiritual +triumph. From the accounts of the ordinary war correspondent I think +one hardly realizes how great a spiritual triumph it was. For the war +correspondent only sees the outside, and can only describe the outside +of things. We who are in the Army, who know the men as individuals, +who have talked with them, joked with them, censored their letters, +worked with them, lived with them we see below the surface. + +The war correspondent sees the faces of the men as they march towards +the Valley of the Shadow, sees the steadiness of eye and mouth, +hears the cheery jest. He sees them advance into the Valley without +flinching. He sees some of them return, tired, dirty, strained, but +still with a quip for the passer-by. He gives us a picture of men +without nerves, without sensitiveness, without imagination, schooled +to face death as they would face rain or any trivial incident of +everyday life. The "Tommy" of the war correspondent is not a human +being, but a lay figure with a gift for repartee, little more than +the manikin that we thought him in those far-off days before the war, +when we watched him drilling on the barrack square. We soldiers know +better. We know that each one of those men is an individual, full of +human affections, many of them writing tender letters home every +week, each one longing with all his soul for the end of this hateful +business of war which divides him from all that he loves best in +life. We know that every one of these men has a healthy individual's +repugnance to being maimed, and a human shrinking from hurt and from +the Valley of the Shadow of Death. + +The knowledge of all this does not do away with the even tread of the +troops as they pass, the steady eye and mouth, the cheery jest; but +it makes these a hundred times more significant. For we know that what +these things signify is not lack of human affection, or weakness, or +want of imagination, but something superimposed on these, to which +they are wholly subordinated. Over and above the individuality of +each man, his personal desires and fears and hopes, there is the +corporate personality of the soldier which knows no fear and only one +ambition--to defeat the enemy, and so to further the righteous cause +for which he is fighting. In each of those men there is this dual +personality: the ordinary human ego that hates danger and shrinks from +hurt and death, that longs for home, and would welcome the end of the +war on any terms; and also the stronger personality of the soldier who +can tolerate but one end to this war, cost what that may--the victory +of liberty and justice, and the utter abasement of brute force. + +And when one looks back over the months of training that the soldier +has had, one recognizes how every feature of it, though at the time +it often seemed trivial and senseless and irritating, was in reality +directed to this end. For from the moment that a man becomes a +soldier his dual personality begins. Henceforth he is both a man and +a soldier. Before his training is complete the order must be reversed, +and he must be a soldier and a man. As a soldier he must obey and +salute those whom, as a man, he very likely dislikes and despises. In +his conduct he no longer only has to consider his reputation as a man, +but still more his honour as a soldier. In all the conditions of his +life, his dress, appearance, food, drink, accommodation, and work, his +individual preferences count for nothing, his efficiency as a soldier +counts for everything. At first he "hates" this, and "can't see +the point of" that. But by the time his training is complete he has +realized that whether he hates a thing or not, sees the point of a +thing or not, is a matter of the uttermost unimportance. If he is +wise, he keeps his likes and dislikes to himself. + +All through his training he is learning the unimportance of his +individuality, realizing that in a national, a world crisis, it counts +for nothing. On the other hand, he is equally learning that as a unit +in a fighting force his every action is of the utmost importance. The +humility which the Army inculcates is not an abject self-depreciation +that leads to loss of self-respect and effort. Substituted for the old +individualism is a new self-consciousness. The man has become humble, +but in proportion the soldier has become exceeding proud. The old +personal whims and ambitions give place to a corporate ambition +and purpose, and this unity of will is symbolized in action by the +simultaneous exactitude of drill, and in dress by the rigid identity +of uniform. Anything which calls attention to the individual, whether +in drill or in dress, is a crime, because it is essential that the +soldier's individuality should be wholly subordinated to the corporate +personality of the regiment. + +As I said before, the personal humility of the soldier has nothing in +it of abject self-depreciation or slackness. On the contrary, every +detail of his appearance, and every most trivial feature of his duty +assumes an immense significance. Slackness in his dress and negligence +in his work are military crimes. In a good regiment the soldier is +striving after perfection all the time. + +And it is when he comes to the supreme test of battle that the fruits +of his training appear. The good soldier has learnt the hardest +lesson of all--the lesson of self-subordination to a higher and bigger +personality. He has learnt to sacrifice everything which belongs to +him individually to a cause that is far greater than any personal +ambitions of his own can ever be. He has learnt to do this so +thoroughly that he knows no fear--for fear is personal. He has learnt +to "hate" father and mother and life itself for the sake of--though he +may not call it that--the Kingdom of God on earth. + +It is a far cry from the old days when one talked of self-realization, +isn't it? I make no claim to be a good soldier; but I think that +perhaps I may be beginning to be one; for if I am asked now whether I +"loathe militarism in all its forms," I think that "the answer is in +the negative," I will even go farther, and say that I hope that some +of the discipline and self-subordination that have availed to send men +calmly to their death in war, will survive in the days of peace, and +make of those who are left better citizens, better workmen, better +servants of the State, better Church men. + + + + +IV + +A MONTH'S REFLECTIONS + + +Timothy and I are on detachment. We are billeted with M. le Curé, and +we mess at the schoolmaster's. Hence we are on good terms with all +parties, for of course a good schoolmaster shrugs his shoulders at +a priest, and a good priest returns the compliment. In war time, +however, the hatchet seems to be buried pretty deep. We have not seen +it sticking out anywhere. + +M. le Curé has a beautiful rose garden, a cask of excellent cider, a +passable Sauterne, and a charming pony. He is a good fellow, I should +think, though without much education. His house--or what I have seen +of it--is the exact opposite of what an English country vicar's +would be. The only sitting-room that I have seen is as neat as an old +maid's. There is a polished floor, an oval polished table on which +repose four large albums at regular intervals, each on its own little +mat. There is a mantelpiece with gilt candlesticks and an ornate clock +under a glass dome. Round the walls are photographs of brother clergy, +the place of honour being assigned to a stout _Chanoine_. The chairs +are stiff and uncomfortable. One of them, which is more imposing +and uncomfortable than the rest, is obviously for the Bishop when he +comes. There are no papers, no books, no ash-trays, no confusion. I +have never seen M. le Curé sit there. I fancy he lives in the kitchen +and in his garden. + +Timothy sleeps in the bed which the Bishop uses, and is told he ought +to feel _très saint_. + +The wife of the schoolmaster cooks for us. She is an excellent soul. +We give her full marks. She has a smile and an omelette for every +emergency, and waves aside all Timothy's vagaries with "Ah, monsieur, +la jeunesse!" I am not sure that Timothy quite likes it! + +Timothy is immense. He is that rarest of birds, a wholly delightful +egotist. He is the sun, but we all bask and shine with reflected +glory. The men are splendid, because they are his men. I am a great +success because I am his subaltern. Fortunately we all have a sense of +humour and so are highly pleased with ourselves and each other. After +all, if one is a Captain at twenty-two ...! But he's a good soldier, +too, and we all believe in him. Timothy's all right, in spite of _la +jeunesse_! + + * * * * * + +Rain! The men are fifteen in a tent in a sea of mud. Poor beggars! +They are having a thin time. Working parties in the trenches day and +night; every one soaked to the skin; and then a return to a damp, +crowded, muddy tent. No pay, no smokes, and yet they are wonderfully +cheery, and all think that the "Push" is going to end the war. I wish +I thought so! + + * * * * * + +These rats are the limit! The dugout swarms with them. Last night they +ate half my biscuits and a good part of Timothy's clean socks, and +whenever I began to get to sleep one of them would run across my face, +or some other sensitive part of my anatomy, and wake me up. I shall +leave the candle alight to-night, to see if that keeps them away. + + * * * * * + +Last night the rats tried to eat the candle, and very nearly set me on +fire. If it were not for the rain I would try the firestep. + +The men are having a rotten time again--no proper shelter from the +rain, and short rations, to say nothing of remarkably good practice by +the Boche artillery. C----, just out from England, got scuppered this +afternoon. A good boy--made his communion just before we came in. I +suppose he didn't know much about it, and that he is really better off +now; but at the same time it makes one angry. + + * * * * * + +The rain has lifted, so last night I tried the firestep, and got a +good sleep. The absurd thing was that I couldn't wake up properly. I +came on duty at midnight, was roused, got to my feet, and started to +walk along the trench. And then the Nameless Terror, that lurks in +dark corners when one is a small boy, gripped me. I was frightened of +the dark, filled with a sense of impending disaster! It took about +ten minutes to wake properly and shake it off. I must try to get more +sleep somehow; but it is jolly difficult. + + * * * * * + +The great bombardment has begun, the long-promised strafing of the +Boche. According to the gunners they will all be dead, buried, or +dazed when the time comes for us to go over the top. I doubt it! If +they have enough deep dug-outs I don't fancy that the bombardment will +worry them very much. + + * * * * * + +Now we are at rest for a day or two before the Push. I am to be left +out--in charge of carriers. Damn! I might as well be A.S.C. I see +myself counting ration bags while the battalion is charging with +fixed bayonets; and in the evening sending up parties of weary laden +carriers over shell-swept areas, while I myself stay behind at +the Dump. Damn! Damn!! Damn!!! Then I shall receive ironical +congratulations on my "cushy" job. + + * * * * * + +Have just seen the battalion off. I don't start for another five +hours. I loathe war. It is futile, idiotic. I would gladly be out +of the Army to-morrow. Glory is a painted idol, honour a phantasy, +religion a delusion. We wallow in blood and torture to please +a creature of our imagination. We are no better than South Sea +Islanders. + + * * * * * + +Just here the attack was a failure. When I got to the Dump I found the +battalion still there. By an irony of fate I was the only officer of +my company to set foot in the German lines. After a day of idleness +and depression I had to detail a party to carry bombs at top speed to +some relics of the leading battalions, who were still clinging to the +extremest corner of the enemy's front line some distance to our left. +Being fed up with inaction, I took the party myself. It was a long +way. The trenches were choked with wounded and stragglers and troops +who had never been ordered to advance. In many places they were broken +down by shell-fire, in others they were waist-deep in water. By dint +of much shouting and shoving and cursing I managed to get through +with about ten of my men, but had to leave the others to follow with a +sergeant. + +At last we sighted our objective, a cluster of chalk mounds surrounded +with broken wire, shell craters, corpses, wreathed in smoke, dotted +with men. I think we all ran across the ground between our front +line and our objective, though it must have been more or less dead +ground. Anyhow, only one man was hit. When we got close the scene +was absurdly like a conventional battle picture--the sort of picture +that one never believes in for a minute. There was a wild mixture of +regiments--Jocks, Irishmen, Territorials, etc., etc. There was no +proper trench left. There were rifles, a machine gun, a Lewis rifle, +and bombs all going at the same time. There were wounded men sitting +in a kind of helpless stupor; there were wounded trying to drag +themselves back to our own lines; there were the dead of whom no one +took any notice. But the prevailing note was one of utter weariness +coupled with dogged tenacity. + +Here and there were men who were self-conscious, wondering what would +become of themselves. I was one of them, and we were none the better +for it. Most of the fellows, though, had forgotten themselves. They no +longer flinched, or feared. They had got beyond that. They were just +set on clinging to that mound and keeping the Huns at bay until their +officer gave the word to retire. Their spirit was the spirit of the +oarsman, the runner, or the footballer, who has strained himself to +the utmost, who if he stopped to wonder whether he could go on or not +would collapse; but who, because he does not stop to wonder, goes on +miraculously long after he should, by all the laws of nature, have +succumbed to sheer exhaustion. + +Having delivered my bombs into eager hands, I reported to the officer +who seemed to be in charge, and asked if I could do anything. I must +frankly admit that my one hope was that he would not want me to stay. +He began to say how that morning he had reached his objective, and how +for lack of support on his flank, for lack of bombs, for lack of men, +he had been forced back; and how for eight hours he had disputed every +inch of ground till now his men could only cling to these mounds with +the dumb mechanical tenacity of utter exhaustion. "You might go to +H.Q.," he said at last, "and tell them where I am, and that I can't +hold on without ammunition and a barrage." + +I am afraid that I went with joy on that errand. I did not want to +stay on those chalk mounds. + + * * * * * + +I only saw a very little bit of the battle. Thank God it has gone well +elsewhere; but here we are where we started. Day and night we have +done nothing but bring in the wounded and the dead. When one sees the +dead, their limbs crushed and mangled, their features distorted and +blackened, one can only have repulsion for war. It is easy to talk of +glory and heroism when one is away from it, when memory has softened +the gruesome details. But here, in the presence of the mutilated and +tortured dead, one can only feel the horror and wickedness of war. +Indeed it is an evil harvest, sown of pride and arrogance and lust of +power. Maybe through all this evil and pain we shall be purged of many +sins. God grant it! If ever there were martyrs, some of these were +martyrs, facing death and torture as ghastly as any that confronted +the saints of old, and facing it with but little of that fierce +fanatical exaltation of faith that the early Christians had to help +them. + +For these were mostly quiet souls, loving their wives and children +and the little comforts of home life most of all, little stirred by +great emotions or passions. Yet they had some love for liberty, some +faith in God,--not a high and flaming passion, but a quiet insistent +conviction. It was enough to send them out to face martyrdom, though +their lack of imagination left them mercifully ignorant of the +extremity of its terrors. It was enough, when they saw their danger in +its true perspective, to keep them steadfast and tenacious. + +For them "it is finished." _R.I.P._ + + + + +V + +ROMANCE + + +I suppose that there are very few officers or men who have been at the +front for any length of time who would not be secretly, if not openly, +relieved and delighted if they "got a cushy one" and found themselves +_en route_ for "Blighty"; yet in many ways soldiering at the front +is infinitely preferable to soldiering at home. One of the factors +which count most heavily in favour of the front, is the extraordinary +affection of officers for their men. + +In England, officers hardly know their men. They live apart, only meet +on parade, and their intercourse is carried on through the prescribed +channels. Even if you do get keen on a particular squad of recruits, +or a particular class of would-be bombers, you lose them so soon that +your enthusiasm never ripens into anything like intimacy. But at the +front you have your own platoon; and week after week, month after +month, you are living in the closest proximity; you see them all day, +you get to know the character of each individual man and boy, and the +result in nearly every case is this extraordinary affection of which I +have spoken. + +You will find it in the most unlikely subjects. I have heard a Major, +a Regular with, as I thought, a good deal of regimental stiffness, +talk about his men with a voice almost choked with emotion. "When +you see what they have to put up with, and how amazingly cheery they +are through it all, you feel that you can't do enough for them. They +make you feel that you're not fit to black their boots." And then he +went on to tell how it was often the fellows whom in England you had +despaired of, fellows who were always "up at orders," who out at the +front became your right-hand men, the men on whom you found yourself +relying. + +I had a letter not long ago from a gunner Captain, also a Regular, who +has been out almost since the beginning of the war. He wrote: "One of +my best friends has just been killed"; and the "best friend" was not +the fellow he had known at "the shop," or played polo with in India, +or hunted with in Ireland, but a scamp of a telephonist, who had +stolen his whisky and owned up; who had risked his life for him, who +had been a fellow-sportsman who could be relied on in a tight corner +in the most risky of all games. + +There is indeed a glamour and a pathos about the private soldier, +especially when, as so often happens, he is really only a boy. When +you meet him in the trenches, wet, covered with mud, with tired eyes +speaking of long watches and hours of risky work, he never fails to +greet you with a smile, and you love him for it, and feel that nothing +you can do can make up to him for it. For you have slept in a much +more comfortable place than he has. You have had unlimited tobacco +and cigarettes. You have had a servant to cook for you. You have fared +sumptuously compared with him. You don't feel his superior. You don't +want to be "gracious without undue familiarity." Exactly what you want +to do is a bit doubtful--the Major said he wanted to black his boots +for him, and that is perhaps the best way of expressing it. + +When he goes over the top and works away in front of the parapet with +the moon shining full and the machine guns busy all along; when he +gets back to billets, and throws off his cares and bathes and plays +games like any irresponsible schoolboy; even when he breaks bounds and +is found by the M.P. skylarking in ----, you can't help loving him. +Most of all, when he lies still and white with a red stream trickling +from where the sniper's bullet has made a hole through his head, there +comes a lump in your throat that you can't swallow; and you turn away +so that you shan't have to wipe the tears from your eyes. + +Gallant souls, those boys, and all the more gallant because they hate +war so much. Their nerves quiver when a shell or a "Minnie" falls into +the trench near them, and then they smile to hide their weakness. They +hate going over the parapet when the machine guns are playing; so +they don't hesitate, but plunge over with a smile to hide their fears. +Their cure for every mental worry is a smile, their answer to every +prompting of fear is a plunge. They have no philosophy or fanaticism +to help them--only the sporting instinct which is in every healthy +British boy. + +Then there are "the old men," less attractive, less stirring to the +imagination, less sensitive, but who grow upon you more and more as +you get to know them. Any one over twenty-three or so is an "old +man." They have lost the grace, the irresponsibility, the sensibility +of youth. Their eyes and mouths are steadier, their movements more +deliberate. But they are the fellows whom you would choose for a +patrol, or a raid, where a cool head and a stout heart are what is +wanted. It takes you longer to know these. They are less responsive to +your advances. But when you have tested them and they have tested you, +you know that you have that which is stronger than any terror of night +or day, a loyalty which nothing can shake. + +And then when he thinks how little he deserves all this love and +loyalty, the subaltern's heart aches with a feeling that can find no +expression either in word or deed. + +This is a tale that has often been told, and that people in England +know by heart. It cannot be told too often. It cannot be learnt too +well. For the time will come when we shall need to remember it, and +when it will be easy to forget. Will you remember it, O ye people, +when the boy has become a man, and the soldier has become a workman? +But there are other tales to tell. There are the tales of the +sergeant-major and the sergeants, the corporals and the "lance-jacks." +Sergeant-majors, sergeants, and corporals are not romantic figures. If +you think of them at all, you probably think of rumjars and profanity. +Yet they are the very backbone of the Army. I have been a sergeant and +I have been a private soldier, and I know that the latter has much +the better time of the two. He at least has the kind of liberty +which belongs to utter irresponsibility. If he breaks bounds in the +exuberance of his spirits, no one thinks much worse of him as long as +he does not make a song about paying the penalty! + +Of course he has to be punished. So many days of sleeping in the guard +tent, extra fatigues, pack-drill, and perhaps a couple of hours tied +up, as an example to evil-doers. But if he has counted the cost, and +pays the price with a grin, we just say "Young scamp!" and dismiss +the matter. But if a sergeant or a corporal does the same, that's a +very different matter. He has shown himself unfit for his job. He +has betrayed a trust. We cannot forgive him. Responsibility has its +disadvantages. The senior N.C.O. gets no relaxation from discipline. +In the line and out of it he must always be watchful, self-controlled, +orderly. He must never wink. These men have not the glamour of the boy +private; but their high sense of duty and discipline, their keenness +and efficiency, merit all the honour that we can give them. + +Finally--for it would not do for a subaltern to discuss his +superiors--we come to the junior officer. Somehow I fancy that in the +public eye he too is a less romantic figure than the private. One does +not associate him with privations and hardships, but with parcels from +home. Well, it is quite right. He has such a much less uncomfortable +time than his men that he does not deserve or want sympathy on that +score. He is better off in every way. He has better quarters, better +food, more kit, a servant, and in billets far greater liberty. And yet +there is many a man who is now an officer who looks back on his days +as a private with regret. Could he have his time over again ... yes, +he would take a commission; but he would do so, not with any thought +for the less hardship of it, but from a stern sense of duty--the sense +of duty which does not allow a man with any self-respect to refuse to +shoulder a heavier burden when called upon to do so. + +Those apparently irresponsible subalterns whom you see entertaining +their lady friends at the Canton or Ciro's do, when they are at the +front, have very heavy responsibilities. Even in the ordinary routine +of trench life, so many decisions have to be made, with the chance of +a "telling off" whichever way you choose, and the lives of other men +hanging in the balance. Suppose you are detailed for a wiring party, +and you arrive to find a full moon beaming sardonically down at you. +What are you to do? If you go out you may be seen. Half a dozen of +your men may be mown down by a machine gun. You will be blamed and +will blame yourself for not having decided to remain behind the +parapet. If you do not go out you may set a precedent, and night after +night the work will be postponed, till at last it is too late, and +the Hun has got through, and raided the trench. If you hesitate or ask +advice you are lost. You have to make up your mind in an instant, and +to stand by it. If you waver your men will never have confidence in +you again. + +Still more in a push; a junior subaltern is quite likely to find +himself at any time in command of a company, while he may for a day +even have to command the relics of a battalion. I have seen boys +almost fresh from a Public School in whose faces there were two +personalities expressed: the one full of the lighthearted, reckless, +irresponsible vitality of boyhood, and the other scarred with +the anxious lines of one to whom a couple of hundred exhausted +and nerve-shattered men have looked, and not looked in vain, for +leadership and strength in their grim extremity. From a boy in such +a position is required something far more difficult than personal +courage. If we praise the boy soldier for his smile in the face of +shells and machine guns, don't let us forget to praise still more the +boy officer who, in addition to facing death on his own account, has +to bear the responsibility of the lives of a hundred other men. There +is many a man of undoubted courage whose nerve would fail to bear that +strain. + +A day or two ago I was reading _Romance_, by Joseph Conrad and Ford +Madox Hueffer. It is a glorious tale of piracy and adventure in the +West Indies; but for the moment I wondered how it came about that +Conrad, the master of psychology, should have helped to write such +a book. And then I understood. For these boys who hate the war, and +suffer and endure with the smile that is sometimes so difficult, and +long with a great longing for home and peace--some day some of them +will look back on these days and will tell themselves that after all +it was Romance, the adventure, which made their lives worth while. And +they will long to feel once again the stirring of the old comradeship +and love and loyalty, to dip their clasp-knives into the same pot of +jam, and lie in the same dug-out, and work on the same bit of wire +with the same machine gun striking secret terror into their hearts, +and look into each other's eyes for the same courageous smile. For +Romance, after all, is woven of the emotions, especially the elemental +ones of love and loyalty and fear and pain. + +We men are never content! In the dull routine of normal life we sigh +for Romance, and sometimes seek to create it artificially, stimulating +spurious passions, plunging into muddy depths in search of it. Now we +have got it we sigh for a quiet life. But some day those who have not +died will say: "Thank God I have lived! I have loved, and endured, and +trembled, and trembling, dared. I have had my Romance." + + + + +VI + +IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS + + +I + + SCENE. _A field in Flanders. All round the edge are bivouacs, + built of sticks and waterproof sheets. Three men are squatting + round a small fire, waiting for a couple of mess-tins of water + to boil_. + +BILL (_gloomily_). The last three of the old lot! Oo's turn next? + +FRED. Wot's the bleedin' good of bein' dahn in the mahf abaht it? Give +me the bleedin' 'ump, you do. + +JIM. Are we dahn-'earted? Not 'alf, we ain't! + +BILL. I don't know as I cares. Git it over, I sez. 'Ave done wiv it! +I dessay as them wot's gone West is better off nor wot we are, arter +all. + +JIM. Orlright, old sport, you go an' look for the V.C., and we'll pick +up the bits an' bury 'em nice an' deep! + +BILL. If this 'ere bleedin' war don't finish soon that's wot I +bleedin' well will go an' do. Wish they'd get a move on an' finish it. + +FRED. If ever I gets 'ome agin, I'll never do another stroke in +my natural. The old woman can keep me, ---- 'er, an' if she don't +I'll--well--'er ---- ----. + +JIM (_indignantly_). Nice sort o' bloke you are! Arter creatin' abaht +ole Bill makin' you miserable, you goes on to plan 'ow you'll make +other folks miserable! Wot's the bleedin' good o' that? Keep smilin', +I sez, an' keep other folks smilin' too, if you can. If ever I gets +'ome I'll go dahn on my bended, I will, and I'll be a different sort +o' bloke to wot I been afore. Swelp me, Bob, I will! My missus won't +'ave no cause to wish as I've been done in. + +BILL. Ah well, it don't much matter. We're all most like to go afore +this war's finished. + +JIM. If yer goes yer goes, and that's all abaht it. A bloke's got to +go some day, and fer myself I'd as soon get done in doin' my dooty as +I would die in my bed. I ain't struck on dyin' afore my time, and I +don't know as I'm greatly struck on livin', but, whichever it is, you +got ter make the best on it. + +BILL (_meditatively_). I woulden mind stoppin' a bullet fair an' +square; but I woulden like one of them 'orrible lingerin' deaths. +"Died o' wounds" arter six munfs' mortal hagony--that's wot gets at +me. Git it over an' done wiv, I sez. + +FRED (_querulously_). Ow, chuck it, Bill. You gives me the creeps, you +do. + +JIM. I knowed a bloke onest in civil life wot died a lingerin' death. +Lived in the second-floor back in the same 'ouse as me an' my missus, +'e did. Suffered somefink' 'orrible, 'e did, an' lingered more nor +five year. Yet I reckon 'e was one o' the best blokes as ever I come +acrost. Went to 'eaven straight, 'e did, if ever any one did. Wasn't +'alf glad ter go, neither. "I done my bit of 'ell, Jim," 'e sez to +me, an' looked that 'appy you'd a' thought as 'e was well agin. Shan't +never forget 'is face, I shan't. An' I'd sooner be that bloke, for all +'is sufferin's, than I'd be old Fred 'ere, an' live to a 'undred. + +BILL (_philosophically_). You'm right, matey. This is a wale o' tears, +as the 'ymn sez, and them as is out on it is best off, if so be as +they done their dooty in that state o' life.... Where's the corfee, +Jim? The water's on the bile. + + + + +VII + +THE FEAR OF DEATH IN WAR + + +I am not a psychologist, and I have not seen many people die in their +beds; but I think it is established that very few people are afraid of +a natural death when it comes to the test. Often they are so weak that +they are incapable of emotion. Sometimes they are in such physical +pain that death seems a welcome deliverer. + +But a violent death such as death in battle is obviously a different +matter. It comes to a man when he is in the full possession of his +health and vigour, and when every physical instinct is urging him +to self-preservation. If a man feared death in such circumstances +one could not be surprised, and yet in the present war hundreds of +thousands of men have gone to meet practically certain destruction +without giving a sign of terror. + +The fact is that at the moment of a charge men are in an absolutely +abnormal condition. + +I do not know how to describe their condition in scientific terms; +but there is a sensation of tense excitement combined with a sort of +uncanny calm. Their emotions seem to be numbed. Noises, sights, and +sensations which would ordinarily produce intense pity, horror, or +dread, have no effect on them at all, and yet never was their mind +clearer, their sight, hearing, etc., more acute. They notice all sorts +of little details which would ordinarily pass them by, but which now +thrust themselves on their attention with absurd definiteness--absurd +because so utterly incongruous and meaningless. Or they suddenly +remember with extraordinary clearness some trivial incident of their +past life, hitherto unremembered, and not a bit worth remembering! But +with the issue before them, with victory or death or the prospect of +eternity, their minds blankly refuse to come to grips. + +No; it is not at the moment of a charge that men fear death. As in +the case of those who die in bed, Nature has an anesthetic ready for +the emergency. It is before an attack that a man is more liable to +fear--before his blood is hot, and while he still has leisure to +think. The trouble may begin a day or two in advance, when he is first +told of the attack which is likely to mean death to himself and so +many of his chums. This part is comparatively easy. It is fairly easy +to be philosophic if one has plenty of time. One indulges in regrets +about the home one may never see again. One is rather sorry for +oneself; but such self-pity is not wholly unpleasant. One feels mildly +heroic, which is not wholly disagreeable either. Very few men are +afraid of death in the abstract. Very few men believe in hell, or are +tortured by their consciences. They are doubtful about after-death, +hesitating between a belief in eternal oblivion and a belief in a new +life under the same management as the present; and neither prospect +fills them with terror. If only one's "people" would be sensible, one +would not mind. + +But as the hour approaches when the attack is due to be launched the +strain becomes more tense. The men are probably cooped up in a very +small space. Movement is very restricted. Matches must not be struck. +Voices must be hushed to a whisper. Shells bursting and machine guns +rattling bring home the grim reality of the affair. It is then more +than at any other time in an attack that a man has to "face the +spectres of the mind," and lay them if he can. Few men care for those +hours of waiting. + +Of all the hours of dismay that come to a soldier there are really few +more trying to the nerves than when he is sitting in a trench under +heavy fire from high-explosive shells or bombs from trench mortars. +You can watch these bombs lobbed up into the air. You see them slowly +wobble down to earth, there to explode with a terrific detonation +that sets every nerve in your body a-jangling. You can do nothing. You +cannot retaliate in any way. You simply have to sit tight and hope +for the best. Some men joke and smile; but their mirth is forced. Some +feign stoical indifference, and sit with a paper and a pipe; but as a +rule their pipes are out and their reading a pretence. There are few +men, indeed, whose hearts are not beating faster, and whose nerves are +not on edge. + +But you can't call this "the fear of death"; it is a purely physical +reaction of danger and detonation. It is not fear of death as death. +It is not fear of hurt as hurt. It is an infinitely intensified +dislike of suspense and uncertainty, sudden noise and shock. It +belongs wholly to the physical organism, and the only cure that I +know is to make an act of personal dissociation from the behaviour of +one's flesh. Your teeth may chatter and your knees quake, but as long +as the real you disapproves and derides this absurdity of the flesh, +the composite you can carry on. Closely allied to the sensation of +nameless dread caused by high explosives is that caused by gas. No one +can carry out a relief in the trenches without a certain anxiety and +dread if he knows that the enemy has gas cylinders in position and +that the wind is in the east. But this, again, is not exactly the +fear of death; but much more a physical reaction to uncertainty and +suspense combined with the threat of physical suffering. + +Personally, I believe that very few men indeed fear death. The vast +majority experience a more or less violent physical shrinking from +the pain of death and wounds, especially when they are obliged to be +physically inactive, and when they have nothing else to think about. +This kind of dread is, in the case of a good many men, intensified +by darkness and suspense, and by the deafening noise and shock that +accompany the detonation of high explosives. But it cannot properly be +called the fear of death, and it is a purely physical reaction which +can be, and nearly always is, controlled by the mind. + +Last of all there is the repulsion and loathing for the whole business +of war, with its bloody ruthlessness, its fiendish ingenuity, and +its insensate cruelty, that comes to a man after a battle, when the +tortured and dismembered dead lie strewn about the trench, and the +wounded groan from No-Man's-Land. But neither is that the fear of +death. It is a repulsion which breeds hot anger more often than cold +fear, reckless hatred of life more often than abject clinging to it. + +The cases where any sort of fear, even for a moment, obtains the +mastery of a man are very rare. Sometimes in the case of a boy, +whose nerves are more sensitive than a man's, and whose habit of +self-control is less formed, a sudden shock will upset his mental +balance. Sometimes a very egotistical man will succumb to danger long +drawn out. The same applies to men who are very introspective. I have +seen a man of obviously low intelligence break down on the eve of an +attack. The anticipation of danger makes many men "windy," especially +officers who are responsible for other lives than their own. But even +where men are afraid it is generally not death that they fear. Their +fear is a physical and instinctive shrinking from hurt, shock, and the +unknown, which instinct obtains the mastery only through surprise, or +through the exhaustion of the mind and will, or through a man being +excessively self-centred. It is not the fear of death rationally +considered; but an irrational physical instinct which all men possess, +but which almost all can control. + + + + +VIII + +IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS + + +II + + SCENE. _A dug-out in a wood somewhere in Flanders. Officers at + tea._ + +HANCOCK. Damned glad to be out of that infernal firing trench, +anyway. (_A dull report is heard in the distance._) There goes another +torpedo! Wonder who's copt it this time! + +SMITH. For Christ's sake talk about something else! + +HANCOCK (_ignoring him_). Are we coming back to the same trenches, +sir? + +CAPTAIN DODD. 'Spect so. + +HANCOCK. At the present rate we shall last another two spells. I hate +this sort of bisnay. You go on month after month losing fellows the +whole time, and at the end of it you're exactly where you started. I +wish they'd get a move on. + +WHISTON. Tired of life? + +HANCOCK. If you call this life, yes! If this damned war is going on +another two years, I hope to God I don't live to see the end of it. + +SMITH. If ever I get home ...! + +WHISTON. Well? + +SMITH. Won't I paint the town red, that's all! + +WHISTON. If ever I get home ... well, I guess I'll go home. No more +razzle-dazzle for master! No, there's a little girl awaiting, and I +know she thinks of me. Shan't wait any longer. + +HANCOCK (_heavily_). Don't think a chap's got any right to marry a +girl under present circs. It's ten to one she's a widow before she's +a mother. + +SMITH. Oh, shut up! + +CAPTAIN DODD (_gently_). To some women the kid would be just the one +thing that made life bearable. + +HANCOCK (_reddening_). Sorry, sir; forgot you'd just done it. Course +you're right. Depends absolutely on the girl. + +CAPTAIN DODD. Thanks. I say, Whiston, I'm going to B.H.Q. Care to come +along? + + (_They go out together._) + + SCENE. _A path through a wood_. CAPTAIN DODD _and_ WHISTON + _walking together, followed by a_ LANCE-CORPORAL. + +DODD. D'you believe in presentiments, Whiston? + +WHISTON (_doubtfully_). A year ago I should have laughed at you for +asking. Now ... + +DODD. More things in heaven and earth ...? + +WHISTON. My rationalism is always being upset! + +DODD. How exactly? + +WHISTON. For instance, I simply can't believe that old John is +finished. Can you? + +DODD (_quietly_). No. + +WHISTON. Funny thing. As far as I'm concerned I can quite imagine +myself just snuffing out. You can put one word on my grave, if I have +one--"Napu." But as for John, no. I want something else. Something +about Death being scored off after all. + +DODD. I know. "O Death, where is thy sting? O Grave, where is thy +victory?" + +WHISTON. Just that. Mind you, I don't think I'm afraid of Death. I +don't want to get killed. But if I saw him coming I think I could +smile, and feel that after all he wasn't getting much of a bargain. +But the idea of his getting old John sticks in my gullet. I believe in +all sorts of things for him. Resurrection and life and Heaven, and all +that. + +DODD. What do you think about it, Corporal? + +LANCE-CORPORAL. Same as Mr. Whiston, sir. + +WHISTON. But what about presentiments? + +DODD. Oh, I don't know. Funny thing; but all through this fortnight +I've been absolutely certain that I was not for it. + +LANCE-CORPORAL. Beg pardon, sir, we noticed that, sir! + +WHISTON. Well, it's practically over now. + +DODD. I'm not so sure. I'm not in a funk, you know. It's simply that I +don't feel so sure. + +WHISTON. Oh, rot, sir! I don't believe in that sort of presentiment. + +DODD. What do you think, Corporal? + +LANCE-CORPORAL. I think you goes when your time comes, sir. But it +won't come to-night, sir. Not after all we been through this spell, +and the spell just finished. + +DODD. I believe you're right, Corporal. We shall go when our time +comes, and not before. I like that idea, you know. It means one hasn't +got to worry. + +WHISTON. If it means that you go on as you've done the last fortnight, +it's a damnable doctrine, sir. You've no business to go taking +unnecessary risks simply because you've got bitten by Mohammedanism. + +DODD (_thoughtfully_). You're right, too, Whiston. "Thou shalt not +tempt the Lord thy God." One shouldn't take unnecessary risks. Mind +you, I don't admit that I have. It just enables one to do one's job +with a quiet mind, that's all. + + +TWO DAYS LATER + + SCENE. _A billet._ HANCOCK _and_ SMITH. + +HANCOCK. Damn! + +SMITH. What's up? Aren't you satisfied? The brigade's bound to go back +and re-form now, and that means that we shan't be in the trenches for +a couple of months at least. We may even go where there's a pretty +girl or two. My word! + +HANCOCK. Damnation! + +SMITH (_genuinely astonished_). What the hell's wrong? Any one would +think you liked the trenches! Personally, I don't care if I never see +them again. England's full of nice young, bright young things crying +to get out. Let 'em all come! They can have my job and welcome! + +HANCOCK (_to himself_). God! Why Dodd and Whiston? Why, why, why? Why +not me? Why just the fellows we can't afford to lose? + +SMITH. Oh, for God's sake stow it! What the hell's the good of going +on like that? Of course I'm sorry for them and all that. But I don't +see that it's going to help them to make oneself miserable about it. + +HANCOCK (_fiercely_). Sorry for them! It's not them I'm sorry for! +They ... they're the lucky ones! God! I suppose that's the answer! +They'd earned it! + +SMITH (_satirically_). Have you turned pi? We shall have you saying +the prayers that you learnt at your mother's knee next, I suppose! +I shall have to tell the Padre, and he'll preach a sermon about it! +I should never have thought you would have been _frightened_ into +religion! + +HANCOCK. Frightened! You little swine! _You_ talk about being +frightened after last night! I tell you I'd rather be lying out there +with Dodd and Whiston than be sitting here with you. Frightened into +religion! + +SMITH. Oh, I suppose you're the next candidate for death or glory! +Good luck to you! I'm not competing. I'll do my job; but I'm not going +to make a fool of myself. Dodd and Whiston deserved all they got. +You're right there. You'll get what you deserve some day, I expect! +Don't look at me like that. I've said I'm sorry, and all that. But +it's the truth I'm speaking, all the same. + +HANCOCK. And you'll get what you deserve too, I suppose, which is to +live in your own company till the end of your miserable existence. I +won't deprive you of your reward more than I can help, I promise you! + + (HANCOCK _goes out._) + + + + +IX + +THE WISDOM OF "A STUDENT IN ARMS" + + +It is no good trying to fathom "things" to the bottom; they have not +got one. + +Knowledge is always descriptive, and never fundamental. We can +describe the appearance and conditions of a process; but not the way +of it. + +Agnosticism is a fundamental fact. It is the starting-point of the +wise man who has discovered that it needs eternity to study infinity. + +Agnosticism, however, is no excuse for indolence. Because we cannot +know all, we need not therefore be totally ignorant. + +The true wisdom is that in which all knowledge is subordinate to +practical aims, and blended into a working philosophy of life. + +The true wisdom is that it is not what a man does, or has, or says, +that matters; but what he is. + +This must be the aim of practical philosophy--to make a man be +_something_. + +The world judges a man by his station, inherited or acquired. God +judges by his character. To be our best we must share God's viewpoint. + +To the world death is always a tragedy; to the Christian it is never a +tragedy unless a man has been a contemptible character. + +Religion is the widening of a man's horizon so as to include God. + +It is in the nature of a speculation, but its returns are immediate. + +True religion means betting one's life that there is a God. + +Its immediate fruits are courage, stability, calm, unselfishness, +friendship, generosity, humility, and hope. + +Religion is the only possible basis of optimism. + +Optimism is the essential condition of progress. + +One is what one believes oneself to be. If one believes oneself to be +an animal one becomes bestial; if one believes oneself spiritual one +becomes Divine. + +Faith is an effective force whose measure has never yet been taken. + +Man is the creature of heredity and environment. He can only rise +superior to circumstances by bringing God into environment of which he +is conscious. + +The recognition of God's presence upsets the balance of a man's +environment, and means a new birth into a new life. + +The faculties which perceive God increase with use like any other +perceptive faculties. + +Belief in God may be an illusion; but it is an illusion that pays. + +If belief in God is illusion, happy is he who is deluded! He gains +this world and thinks he will gain the next. + +The disbeliever loses this world, and risks losing the next. + +To be the centre of one's universe is misery. To have one's universe +centred in God is the peace that passeth understanding. + +Greatness is founded on inward peace. + +Energy is only effective when it springs from deep calm. + +The pleasure of life lies in contrasts; the fear of contrasts is a +chain that binds most men. + +In the hour of danger a man is proven. The boaster hides, and the +egotist trembles. He whose care is for others forgets to be afraid. + +Men live for eating and drinking, passion and wealth. They die for +honour. + +Blessed is he of whom it has been said that he so loved giving that he +even gave his own life. + + + + +X + +IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS + + +III + + SCENE. _A trench unpleasantly near the firing line. There + has been an hour's intense bombardment by the British, with + suitable retaliation by the Boches. The retaliation is just + dying down._ + + CHARACTERS. ALBERT--_Round-eyed, rotund, red-cheeked, + yellow-haired, and deliberate; in civil life probably a + drayman._ JIM--_Small, lean, sallow, grey-eyed, with a kind + of quiet restlessness; in civil life probably a mechanic with + leanings towards Socialism._ POZZIE--_A thick-set, low-browed, + impassive, silent_ _country youth, with a face the colour of + the soil._ JINKS--_An old soldier, red, lean, wrinkled, with + very blue eyes. His face is rough-hewn, almost grotesque + like a gargoyle. In his eyes there is a perpetual glint of + humour, and in the poise of his head a certain irrepressible + jauntiness._ + +ALBERT (_whose eyes are more staring than ever, his cheeks pendulous +and crimson, his general air that of a partly deflated air-cushion_). +Gawd's truth! + +JINKS (_wagging his head_). Well, my old sprig o' mint, what's wrong +wi' you? + +ALBERT. It ain't right. (_Sententiously_) It's agin natur'. Flesh an' +blood weren't made for this sort o' think. + +JIM. It ain't flesh an' blood that can't stand it. It's Mind. Look at +old Pozzie. 'E's flesh an' blood, and don't turn an 'air! For myself +I'll go potty one o' these days. + +JINKS (_slapping POZZIE on the back_). You don't take no notice, do +you, old lump o' duff? + +POZZIE. Oi woulden moind if I got moy rations; but a chap can't keep a +good 'eart if 'e's got an empty stummick. + +JIM (_sarcastically_). You keep yer 'eart in yer stomach, don't yer? +You ain't got no mind, you ain't. Jinks was born potty, an' the rest +of us'll all go potty except you. It's you an' yer Ally Sloper's +Cavalry what'll win the war, I don't think! + +ALBERT. What I wants ter know is 'ow long the bleedin' war's a-goin' +ter last. If it goes on much longer I'll be potty if I ain't a gone +'un. + +JIM. There's only one way of ending it as I knows on. + +ALBERT. What's that, matey? + +JIM. Put all the bleedin' politicians on both sides in the bleedin' +trenches. Give 'em a week's bombardment, an' send 'em away for a week +to make peace, with a promise of a fortnight's intense at the end of +it if they've failed. They'd find a way, sure enough. + +ALBERT (admiringly). Ah, that they would an' all. If old "Wait +and See" 'ad been 'ere these last four days 'e wouldn't talk about +fightin' to the last man! + +JINKS. Don't talk stoopid. 'Oo began the bloomin' war? Don't yer know +what you're fightin' for? D'you want ter leave the 'Uns in France an' +Belgium an' Serbia an' all? It ain't fer us to make peace. It's fer +the 'Uns. An' if you are done in, you got to go under some day. I +ain't sure as they ain't the lucky ones what's got it over and done +with. And arter all, it's not us what's not proper. The 'Uns 'ave 'ad +two fer our one. + +ALBERT. They got dug-outs as deep as 'ell, it don't touch 'em. + +JINKS. (_but without conviction_). Don't talk silly. + +POZZIE. Oi reckon we got to go through with it. But they didn't ought +to give a chap short rations. That's what takes the 'eart out of a +chap. + + + + +XI + +LETTER TO AN ARMY CHAPLAIN[2] + + +_April 17, 1916._ + +Thank you very much for your letter of a week ago, which I should +have tried to answer before if I had had time. I am afraid that your +confidence in me as an oracle will be severely shaken when I confess +that I was once on the eve of being ordained, and that in the end +I funked it because it seemed such an awfully difficult job, and I +couldn't see my way to going through with it. + +[Footnote 2: This chapter is the actual text of a letter from "A +Student in Arms," and like the most of the other chapters appeared +originally in the _Spectator_.] + +However, I must try to answer your letter as best I can, and I hope +that you will not mind my speaking plainly what I think, and will +remember that I do so in no spirit of superiority, but very humbly, as +one who has funked the great work that you have had the pluck to take +up, and who has even failed in the little bit of work that he himself +did try and do. This last means that I have no business to be an +officer. It was the biggest mistake in my life, for my position in the +ranks did give me a hold on the fellows, the strength of which I have +only realized since I left. + +Now then to the point. As I understand you, your difficulty is that +you feel that you must devote yourself to strengthening a very few men +who are already Churchmen, and to whom you can talk in the language +of the Church of things which you know they want to hear about, or +you must appeal to the crowd of those who are merely good fellows and +often sad scamps too, who must be caught with buns and cinemas and who +are very difficult to get any farther. + +I fancy that you, like me, when you see a fine dashing young fellow, +with a touch of honesty and recklessness and wonderful mystery of +youth in his eyes, love him as a brother, and long to do something to +keep him clean, and to keep him from the sordid things to which you +and I know well enough he will descend in the long run if one cannot +put the love of clean, wholesome life into his heart. But how to get +at him? If you talk to him about his soul you disgust him, and you +feel a sort of sneaking sympathy with him too. It does not seem the +thing to make a chap self-conscious and a bit of a prig when he is +not one to start with. On the other hand, if you just keep to buns and +cinemas you never get any farther. Well, it is a big difficulty. The +only experience that I have had which counts at all is experience that +I gained while trying to run a boys' club in South London, and you +must not think me egotistical if I tell you what seems to me to have +been the secret of any power that I seem to have had over fellows. + +At first I used to have a short service at the close of the club every +evening, to which most of the boys used to stay. I also had a service +on Sunday afternoon. Something of the same sort might perhaps be +possible in the Y.M.C.A. tent if there is one where you are. When I +was talking to them at these services I always used to try and make +them feel that Christ was the fulfilment of all the best things that +they admired, that He was their natural hero. I would tell them some +story of heroism and meanness contrasted, of courage and cowardice, of +noble forgiveness and vile cruelty, and so get them on the side of the +angels. Then I would try and spring it upon them that Christ was the +Lord of the heroes and the brave men and the noble men, and that He +was fighting against all that was mean and cruel and cowardly, and +that it was up to them to take their stand by His side if they wanted +to make the world a little better instead of a little worse, and I +would try to show them how in little practical ways in their homes and +at their work and in the club they could do a bit for Christ. + +Well, they listened pretty well, and I think that they agreed in +a general sort of way, only 'they knew that I was a richish man in +comparison with them, and that I didn't have their difficulties to +contend with, and that all tended to undo the effect of what I had +said. And then accident gave me a sort of clue to the way to get them +to take one seriously. For some idiotic reason--I really couldn't say +just what it was--I dressed up as a tramp one day, and spent a night +in a casual ward. I didn't do it for any very worthy motive, and I +didn't mean any one to know about it; but it got round, and I suddenly +found that it had caught the imaginations of some of the fellows, and +I realized that if one was to have any power over them one must do +symbolic things to show them that one meant what one said about love +being really better than money, and all that sort of thing. So in +rather a half-hearted way I did try to do things which would show +them that I was in earnest. I took a couple of rooms in a little +cottage in a funny little bug-ridden court, instead of living at the +mission-house. I went out to Australia steerage to see why emigration +of London boys was not a success, and when war broke out I enlisted, +although I had previously held a commission. And all these little +things, though on reasonable grounds often rather indefensible, +undoubtedly had the effect of making my South London boys take me +more seriously than they did at first. Well, I am quite sure that with +Tommies, if ever you get a chance of doing something in the way of +sharing their privations and dangers when you aren't obliged to, or of +showing in practical ways humility and unselfishness, that will endear +you to them, and give you weight with them more than anything else. In +my time in the ranks I had that proved over and over again. If once +I was able to do even a small kindness for a fellow which involved a +bit of unnecessary trouble, he would never forget it, and would repay +me a thousand times over. I was a sergeant for about nine months in +England, and had one or two chances. Then I reverted to the ranks, +and for that the men could not do enough to show me kindness. (It was +my not valuing rank and comparative comfort for its own sake that +appealed to them.) Continually I have reaped a most gigantic reward of +goodwill for actions which cost very little, and which were not always +done from the motives imputed. + +I am not swanking--at least, I don't mean to--but that is just my +experience, that with Tommy it is actions, and specially actions that +imply and symbolize humility, courage, unselfishness, etc., that +count ten thousand times more than the best sermons in the world. I am +afraid that all this is not much good because you are an officer, and +your course of action is very clearly marked out for you by authority. +But I do say that if ever you have a chance of showing that you are +willing to share the often hard and sometimes humiliating lot of the +men it is that which above all things will give you power with them; +just as it is the Cross of Christ, and the spitting and the mocking +and the scourging, and the degradation of His exposure in dying, that +gives Him His power far more than even the Sermon on the Mount. After +all, it is always what costs most that is best worth having, and if +you only see Tommy in his easiest moments, when he is at the Y.M.C.A. +or the club, you see him at the time when he is least impressionable +in a permanent manner. + +Well, I must apologize for writing such an egotistical and intimate +sort of letter on so slight a provocation. But this that I have said +is all that my experience has taught me about influencing the Tommy. + +No doubt there are other ways; but I have not been able to strike +them. + +Yours very truly, DONALD HANKEY, 2nd Lieut. + +P.S.--Of course in becoming a Second Lieutenant I have dished my own +influence most effectually. It has often appeared to me that among +ordinary working men humility was considered the Christian virtue _par +excellence_. Humility combined with love is so rare, I suppose, and +that is why it is marvelled at. + + + + +XII + +"DON'T WORRY" + + +This is at present the soldier's favourite chorus at the front-- + + "What's the use of worrying? + It never was worth while! + Pack up your troubles in your old kit-bag + And Smile, Smile, Smile!" + +Not a bad chorus, either, for the trenches! You can't stop a shell +from bursting in your trench, even if Mr. Rawson can! You can't stop +the rain, or prevent a light from going up just as you are half-way +over the parapet ... so what on earth is the use of worrying? If you +can't alter things, you must accept them, and make the best of them. + +Yet some men do worry, and by so doing effectually destroy their peace +of mind without doing any one any good. What is worse, it is often the +religious man who worries. I have even heard those whose care was for +the soldier's soul, deplore the fact that he did not worry! I have +heard it said that the soldier is so careless, realizes his position +so little, is so hard to touch! And, on the other hand, I have heard +the soldier say that he did not want religion, because it would make +him worry. Strange, isn't it, if Christianity means worry and anxiety, +and if it is only the heathen who is cheerful and free from care? Yet +the feeling that this is so undoubtedly exists, and it must have some +foundation. Perhaps it is one of the subjects which ought to engage +the attention of Churchmen in these days of "repentance and hope." + +Of course, worrying is about as un-Christian as anything can +be. [Greek: "mê merimnate tê psychê umôn"]--"Don't worry about your +life"--is the Master's express command. In fact, the call of Christ is +a call to something very like the cheerfulness of the soldier in the +trenches. It is a call to a life of external turmoil and internal +peace. "I came not to bring peace, but a sword"; "take up your +cross and follow Me"; "ye shall be hated"; "he that would save his +life shall lose it." It is a call to take risks, to risk poverty, +unpopularity, humiliation, death. It is a call to follow the way of +the Cross. But the way of the Cross is also the way of peace, the +peace of God that passeth understanding. It is a way of freedom from +all cares, and anxieties, and fears; but not a way of escape from them. + +Yet worrying is often a feature of the actual Churchman. The actual +Churchman is often a man whose conscience is an incubus. He can do +nothing without weighing motives and calculating results. It makes +him introspective to an extent that is positively morbid. He is +continually probing himself to discover whether his motives are really +pure and disinterested, continually trying to decide whether he is +"worthy" or "fit" to undertake this or that responsibility, or to +face this or that eventuality. He is full of suspicion of himself, +of self-distrust. In the trenches he is always wondering whether he +is fit to die, whether he will acquit himself worthily in a crisis, +whether he has done anything that he ought not to have done, or left +undone anything that he ought to have done. Especially if he is an +officer, his responsibility weighs on him terribly, and I have known +more than one good fellow and conscientious Churchman worry himself +into thinking that he was unfit for his responsibilities as an +officer, and ask to be relieved of them. + +There must be something wrong about the Christianity of such men. +Their over-conscientiousness seems to create a wholly wrong sense +of proportion, an exaggerated sense of the significance of their own +actions and characters which is as far removed as can be from the +childlike humility which Christ taught. The truth seems to be that we +lay far too much stress on conscience, self-examination, and personal +salvation, and that we trust the Holy Spirit far too little. + +If we look to the teaching of Christ, we do not find any +recommendation to meticulous self-analysis, but rather we are taught +a kind of spiritual recklessness, an unquestioning confidence in what +seem to be right impulses, and that quite regardless of results. We +are not told to be careful to spend each penny to the best advantage; +but we are told that if our money is preventing us from entering the +Kingdom, we had better give it all away. We are not told to set a high +value on our lives, and to spend them with care for the good of the +Kingdom. On the contrary, we are told to risk our lives recklessly +if we would preserve them. A sense of anxious responsibility is +discouraged. If our limbs cause us to offend, we are advised to cut +them off. + +The whole teaching of the Gospels is that we have got to find freedom +and peace in trusting ourselves implicitly to the care of God. We +have got to follow what we think right quite recklessly, and leave the +issue to God; and in judging between right and wrong we are only given +two rules for our guidance. Everything which shows love for God and +love for man is right, and everything which shows personal ambition +and anxiety is wrong. + +What all this means as far as the trenches are concerned is +extraordinarily clear. The Christian is advised not to be too +pushing or ambitious. He is advised to "take the lowest room." But +if he is told to move up higher, he has got to go. If he is given +responsibility, there is no question of refusing it. He has got to do +his best and leave the issue to God. If he does well, he will be given +more responsibility. But there is no need to worry. The same formula +holds good for the new sphere. Let him do his best and leave the issue +to God. If he does badly, well, if he did his best, that means that +he was not fit for the job, and he must be perfectly willing to take a +humbler job, and do his best at that. + +As for personal danger, he must not think of it. If he is killed, that +is a sign that he is no longer indispensable. Perhaps he is wanted +elsewhere. The enemy can only kill the body, and the body is not the +important thing about him. Every man who goes to war must, if he is to +be happy, give his body, a living sacrifice, to God and his country. +It is no longer his. He need not worry about it. The peace of God +which passeth all understanding simply comes from not worrying about +results because they are God's business and not ours, and in trusting +implicitly all impulses that make for love of God and man. Few of us +perhaps will ever attain to a full measure of such faith; but at least +we can make sure that our "Christianity" brings us nearer to it. + + + + +XIII + +IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS + + +IV + +_AU COIFFEUR_ + + SCENE. _A barber's shop in a small French town about thirty + miles from the front. A_ SUBALTERN _and a stout_ BOURGEOIS + _are waiting their turn_. + +BOURGEOIS. Is it that it is the mud of the trenches on the boots of +Monsieur? + +SUBALTERN. Ah! but no, Monsieur, for then it would reach to my waist! + +BOURGEOIS. Nevertheless, Monsieur is but recently come from the +trenches, is it not so? + +SUBALTERN. Yes, I am arrived from the trenches yesterday. + +BOURGEOIS. Then Monsieur has assisted at the great attack! + +SUBALTERN. Oh, yes, I helped a very little bit. + +BOURGEOIS. There have been immense losses, is it not so? + +SUBALTERN (_vaguely_). There are always great losses when one attacks. + +BOURGEOIS. Ah! but much greater than one expected--I have seen, I, the +wounded coming down the river. + +SUBALTERN. I--I have always expected great losses. + +BOURGEOIS. 'Tis true. There are always great losses when one attacks. +But all goes well, Monsieur, is it not so? + +SUBALTERN. It is difficult to estimate the success of an attack until +after several weeks. But I think that all goes well. + +BOURGEOIS. But yes, the French, they have had a great success, and +also the English. The English are wonderful. Their equipment! It is +that which astonishes me. Everything is complete. They say that +the English have saved France; but the French also, they have saved +England, is it not so, Monsieur? + +SUBALTERN. But we are saving each other! + +BOURGEOIS. Good! We are saving each other! Very good! But after the +war, Monsieur, England will fight against France, _hein_? + +SUBALTERN. Never! + +BOURGEOIS. Never? + +SUBALTERN. Never in life! + +BOURGEOIS. You think so? + +SUBALTERN. We do not love war. We do not seek war. It is only when a +nation is so execrable that one is compelled to fight, as have been +the Germans, that we make war. + +BOURGEOIS. You do not love war, eh? Before the war you had a very +small Army, about three hundred thousand, is it not so? And now you +have about three million. You do not love war, you others. + +SUBALTERN. The Germans thought that they loved war, but I do not +believe that they will love it very much longer! + +BOURGEOIS. No! The war will give them the stomach-ache. They will love +it no longer! + +COIFFEUR. But these English, whom did they fight before? The Boers, +was it not? + +SUBALTERN. Yes, but a great many English think now that it was a +_bêtise_. There was also great provocation. And nevertheless, who +knows if there was not in that affair also a German plot? + +BOURGEOIS. It is very likely. Then Monsieur thinks that we are true +friends, the English and the French? + +SUBALTERN. But yes, Monsieur, because we love, both of us, liberty and +peace. + + + + +XIV + +A PASSING IN JUNE, 1915 + + +PROLOGUE + + SCENE. _The parlour of an Auberge._ + + PERSONS. _A stoist motherly_ MADAME, _a wrinkled fatherly_ + MONSIEUR, _and a plain but pleasant_ MA'MSELLE. _Some English + soldiers drinking_. CECIL _is talking in French to_ MONSIEUR, + _and they are all very friendly_. + +MADAME. Alors, vous n'avez pas encore été aux tranchées? + +CECIL. Mais non, Madame, peut-être ce soir. + +(MONSIEUR _and_ MADAME _exchange glances_. CECIL _rises to go._) + +CECIL. À Jeudi, Monsieur, Madame, Ma'mselle. + +MONSIEUR, MADAME, AND MA'MSELLE (_in chorus_). À Jeudi, Monsieur. + +MADAME (_earnestly_). Bon courage, Monsieur! + + (_Curtain_) + + +ACT I. DAWN + + CECIL _is discovered lying behind a wall of sandbags. On one + side are the sandbags, and on the other an idyllic spring scene, + with flowers and orchards seen in the half-light of a spring + morning. The dawn breaks gently, and soon bullets begin to ping + through the air, flattening themselves against the sandbags, or + passing over_ CECIL's _head. He wakes and yawns, and then + composes himself with his eyes open._ + + _Enter Allegorical personages_: FATHER SUN, MOTHER EARTH, _and + a chorus of_ GRASSES, POPPIES, CORNFLOWERS, RAGGED ROBINS, + DAISIES, BEETLES, BEES, FLIES, _and insects of all kinds._ + +FATHER SUN. + + Wake, children, rub your eyes, + Up and dance and sing and play, + Not a cloud is in the skies; + This is going to be _my_ day. + See the tiny dew-drop glisten + In my glancing golden ray; + See the shadows dancing, listen + To the lark so blithe and gay. + Up, children, dance and play, + This is my own festal day. + +FLOWERS, BEETLES, ETC. + + Dance and sing + In a ring, + Naughty clouds are chased away; + Oh what fun, + Father Sun + Is going to shine the whole long day. + +MOTHER EARTH. That's right, children. This is the day to grow in; but +don't forget to come home to dinner; I've got such a nice dinner for +you. + + (_The children dance away delightedly, while CECIL watches + them, fascinated._) + +MOTHER EARTH. What's this absurd young man doing, sitting behind that +ugly wall? Why don't he sit under a tree if he must sit? + +FATHER SUN. Oh, he's a lunatic! Must be. + + (RANDOM BULLET _jumps over the sandbags into the dug-out, and + jibbers impotently at_ CECIL, _who glances up at him with a + look of disgust._) + +RANDOM BULLET. Ping! Ping. It's me he's afraid of. He daren't stir a +yard from this wall, or I'd tear his brains out. Ping! Ping! + +MOTHER EARTH. Who are you, Monster? + +RANDOM BULLET. I'm Random Bullet. I _am_ a monster, I am! Ping! + +MOTHER EARTH. Who sent you, anyway? + +RANDOM BULLET. Why, the idiots behind the other wall, over there! +Sometimes I jump at them, and sometimes I jump over here. I don't care +which way it is; but I like tearing their brains out, I do. I don't +care which lot it is. + +MOTHER EARTH. What madness! + +FATHER SUN (_indignantly_). On my day too! + +RANDOM BULLET. Mad! I should think they were! Never mind, they give me +some fun! Ping! So long, I'm off, going to jump at the other fellows, +back in a second if you like to wait. + + (RANDOM BULLET _jumps out of sight, and_ MOTHER EARTH _and_ + FATHER SUN _move disgustedly away._) + +CECIL (_getting up_). Mad! By God, we are mad! Curse the war! Curse +the fools who started it! Why did I ever come out here? What a way to +spend a morning in June! + + (_Curtain._) + + +ACT II. MIDDAY + + SCENE. _The same._ CECIL _as before, but sweltering in the + sun. Enter the_ SPIRIT OF THIRST. + +THIRST. Oh for a drink! Water, anything! I could drink a bath full. +What a place to spend a June day in! When one thinks of all the drinks +one might be having, it is really infuriating. Gad! The very thought +of 'em makes me feel quite poetic! Think of the great barrels of still +cider in cool Devonshire cellars! Think of the sour refreshing wine +we used to get in Italy! And the iced cocktails of Colombo! And Pimm's +No. 1 in the City. Anywhere but here it's a pleasure to be a Thirst; +but here! Good Lord, it will send me off my head. How would a bath +go now, old chap? By God, don't you wish you were back in your canoe, +drawn up among the rushes near Islip, and you just going to plunge +into the cool waters of the Char? Or think of that day you bathed in +the deep still pool at the foot of the Tamarin Falls, with the water +crashing down above you, into the deep shady chasm. Even a dip in the +sea at Mount Lavinia wouldn't be bad now,--or, better still, a dive +into Como from a rowboat; you remember that hot summer we went to +Como? I'll tell you another thing that wouldn't go down badly either. +Do you remember a great bowl of strawberries and cream with a huge +ice in it, that you had the day before you left school, after that hot +bike ride to Leamington? Not bad, was it? + +CECIL (_fiercely_). Shut up, you beast! Oh, curse this idiotic war! +Why are we such fools? + + (_Curtain._) + + +ACT III. LATE AFTERNOON + + SCENE. _As before._ CECIL _is discovered reading a letter from + home._ + +CECIL (_to himself_). Tom dead. Good Lord! What times we have had +together! Where are all the good fellows I used to know? Half of them +dead, and the rest condemned to die! No more yachting on the broads! +No more convivial evenings at the Troc.! No more long nights spinning +yarns in Tom's old rooms in the Temple! Curse this blasted war that +robs one of everything worth having, that dulls every sense of decency +and kills all feeling for beauty, destroys the joy of life, and +mutilates one's dearest friends. Curse it! + + (_A sound as of an express train is heard, followed by the + roar of an explosion, while a dense cloud of smoke and dust + rises immediately in view of the trench._) + +PORTENTOUS VOICE. Prepare to face eternity! + +CECIL (_clenching his fists_). Beast, loathsome beast! Don't think I +am afraid of you. + + (_The sounds are repeated as a second shell drops, rather + nearer. A Shadow appears round the dug-out, and hesitates._) + +CECIL (_to the Shadow_). Who is that? Is that the Shadow of Fear? + +A THIN, QUAVERING VOICE. Yes, shall I come in? + +CECIL (_furiously_). Out of my sight, vile, cringing wretch! Not even +your shadow will I tolerate in my presence! + + (_A third shell bursts nearer still._) + +PORTENTOUS VOICE (_thunderously_). Set not your affections on things +below. + + (CECIL _pauses in a listening attitude_). + +CECIL (_more quietly, and with a new look in his eyes_). I think I +have forgotten something,--something rather important. + + (_Enter the twin Spirits of_ HONOUR _and_ DUTY, _Spirits of a + very noble and courtly mien._) + +CECIL (_simply and humbly_). Gentlemen, to my sorrow and loss I had +forgotten you. You are doubly welcome. + +THE SPIRIT OF DUTY. Young sir, we thank you. After all, it is but +right that in this hour of danger and dismay we should be with you. + +THE SPIRIT OF HONOUR. I am so old a friend of you and yours, Cecil, +that you may surely trust me. I was your father's friend. Side by +side we stood in every crisis of his varied life. Together faced the +Dervish rush at Abu Klea, and afterwards in India took our part +in many a desperate unnamed frontier tussle. I helped him woo your +mother, spoke for him when he put up for Parliament, advised him when +he visited the city. In fact, I was his companion all through life, +and I stood beside his bed at death. + +THE SPIRIT OF DUTY. I too may claim to have been as much your father's +friend as was my brother. Indeed, where one is, the other is never far +away. We do agree most wonderfully, and since our birth, no quarrel +has ever disturbed the harmony of our ways. + +CECIL. Gentlemen, you have recalled me to myself. I had forgotten that +I was no more a child. I wanted to dance in the sun with the flowers, +and sing with the birds, to swim in the pool with yonder newt, and +lie down to dry in the long meadow grass among the poppies. Because I +might not do this and other things as fond and foolish, I was petulant +and peevish, like a spoilt child. I look to you, gentlemen, to help me +to be a man, and play a man's part in the world. + +HONOUR. We will remain at hand, call us when you need us, we shall not +fail you. + + (_The bombardment increases in intensity. Shrapnel bursts + overhead. Shells with increasing rapidity and accuracy + explode both short and over the trench. The hail of bullets is + continuous. An N.C.O. rushes by shouting "Stand to"; men rush + from the dug-outs and seize their rifles_; CECIL, _like the + others, grasps his rifle and sees that it is fully loaded._) + + (_Curtain._) + + +ACT IV. SUNSET + + SCENE. _The same, but the wall of sand-bags_ _bags is broken + in many places. The dead lie half-buried beneath them._ CECIL + _lies, badly wounded, against a gap in the wall, his rifle + by his side._ HONOUR _and_ DUTY _kneel beside him tenderly. + The last rays of the sun light up his painful smile._ THIRST + _stands gloomily over him, and the wild flowers are peeping + at him with sleepy eyes through the gap, while_ MOTHER EARTH + _calls to them to go to bed._ FATHER SUN _leans sadly over the + broken parapet._ + +CECIL (_slowly and with difficulty_). Honour, Duty, I thank you. You +did not fail me. + +HONOUR. You played the man, Cecil, as your father did before you. + +DUTY. Your example it was that steadied your comrades, and kept craven +fear at a distance. You saved the trench. + +HONOUR. This is the beauty of manhood, to die for a good cause. There +is no fairer thing in all God's world. + +CECIL. I thank you. Good-night, Sun; good-night, Mother Earth. Think +kindly of me. I don't think I was mad after all. + +SUN. Good-night, brave lad. (_To_ MOTHER EARTH) I can hardly bear to +look on so sad a sight. + +CECIL. Good-night, Ragged Robins; good-night, Poppies. You have +played your game, and I mine. Only they are different because we are +different. + +CHORUS OF FLOWERS. Good-night, dear Cecil. We are so very sorry that +you are hurt. + + (_Enter the_ MASTER, _flowers shyly following him._ HONOUR + _and_ DUTY _raise_ CECIL _gently to a standing position._) + +THE MASTER (_extending his arms with a loving smile_). "Well done, +good and faithful servant. Enter thou into the joy of thy Lord." + + (CECIL, _with a look of wonder and joy, is borne forward._) + + (_Curtain._) + + + + +XV + +MY HOME AND SCHOOL[3] + +A FRAGMENT OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY + +I + +MY HOME + +What is one to say of home? It is difficult to know. I find that +biographers are particular about the date of birth, the exact address +of the babe, the social position and ancestry of the parent. I suppose +that it is all that they can learn. But as an autobiographer I want +to do something better; to give a picture of the home where, as I +can now see, ideals, tastes, prejudices and habits were formed which +have persisted through all the internal revolutions that have since +upheaved my being. + +[Footnote 3: "A Student" left a great deal of manuscript, among which +this fragment of autobiography is not the least interesting.] + +I try to form the picture in my mind, and a crowd of detail rushes +in which completely destroys its simplicity and harmony. How hard it +is to judge, even at this distance, what are the salient features. +I must try, but I know that from the point of view of psychological +development I may easily miss out the very factors which were really +most important. + +I remember a big house, in a row of other big houses, in a side street +leading from the East Cliff at Brighton right up to the edge of the +bare rolling downs. It was exactly like almost every other house +in that part of Brighton--stucco fronted, with four stories and a +basement, three windows in front on each of the upper stories, and two +windows and a door on the ground floor and basement. At the back was +a small garden, with flower beds surrounding a square of gravel, and +a tricycle house in one corner. There was a back door in this garden, +which gave on to a street of cottages. This back door was a point of +strategic importance. + +But I need not describe the house in detail. It was exactly like +thousands of other houses built in the beginning of the nineteenth +century. High, respectable, ugly and rather inconvenient, with many +stairs, two or three big rooms, a lot of small ones and no bathroom. +It was essentially a family house, intended for people of moderate +means and large families. Nowadays they build houses which are +prettier, and have bathrooms; but they are not meant for large +families. + +We were a large family, and a fairly noisy one. Moreover, we were +singularly self-sufficing. We hadn't many friends, we didn't entertain +much, we had dinner in the middle of the day, and supper in the +evening. + +There was my father who was a recluse, my mother who was essentially +our mother, the two girls and four boys. I was an afterthought, being +seven years younger than my next brother, who for seven years had +been called B. (for baby), and couldn't escape from it even after my +appearance. + +In addition to these, B. and I both had inseparable friends, who lived +within a stone's throw. Ronnie was my _alter ego_ till I was fourteen: +so much so that I had no other friend. Even now, though our ways +have kept us apart, and our interests and opinions are fundamentally +different, we can sit in each other's rooms with perfect content. We +know too much of each other for it to be possible to pretend to be +what we are not. We sit and are ourselves, naked and unashamed so to +speak, and it is very restful. + +Pictures float before my mind. Let me select a few. I see a rather +fat, stolid little boy in a big airy nursery at the top of the house, +sitting in the middle of the floor playing with bricks. Outside it is +gusty and wet, and the small boy hopes that he will be allowed to stay +in all the afternoon, and play with bricks. But that is not to be. A +small thin man, with gentle grey eyes, short curly beard, an old black +greatcoat and a black square felt hat, comes in. The child must have +some air. The child is resentful, but resigned, is wrapped up well, +put in his pram and wheeled up and down the Madeira Road. + +"Pa" didn't appear very much except on some such errand; but "Ma" was +in and out all the time. "Ma" was everything, the only woman who has +ever had my whole love, my whole trust and has made my heart ache with +the desire to show my love. + +A later picture. The boy is bigger, and not so fat. He no longer has +a nurse. He has vacated the nursery, which is now tenanted by his big +sisters. He has a little room all his own: a very small room, looking +west. The south-west gales beat upon the window in the winter, and not +so far away is the roar of the sea. It is good to curl up in a nice +warm little bed, and listen to the howling of the wind and the waves. + +In the morning come lessons from his eldest sister G. The schoolroom +has rings and a trapeze, a bookshelf full of boys' books, and +cupboards full of stone bricks, cannon and soldiers. The boy's mind +is set on bricks and soldiers. Lessons and walks with "Ma" and his +sisters or Ronnie and his nurse down the town are a nuisance. They +interfere with the building of cathedrals and the settling of the +destinies of nations by the arbitrament of war. + +It was a stolid, placid boy, intensely wrapt up in his cathedrals and +his generals, intensely devoted to "Ma," and regarding all else as +rather a nuisance. Ronnie he liked. He liked going to tea with him, +and going walks with him and his nurse; but they didn't have much +in common except cricket. Ronnie had big soldiers which could not be +knocked down by cannon balls, and which couldn't make history because +they were few in number, and nearly all English. Mine were of every +European power, and many Asiatic ones. They were diminutive and +numerous, could take shelter in a forest of pine cones and were +admirably suited to be mown down at the cannon's mouth. The King of +England was a person with a fine figure. He had one leg and one arm, +and the plume of his dragoon's helmet was shorn off; but his slight, +erect figure still looked noble on a stately white palfrey. The French +armies were usually commanded by Marshal Petit, a gay fellow with +his full complement of limbs, who sat a horse well. He had a younger +brother almost equally distinguished. I have no recollection of a King +of France. He must have been a poor fellow. The Sultan of Turkey, +the Khedive, and Li Hung Chang still live in my memory as persons of +distinction; but I have no personal recollection of the Tsar, or the +Emperors of Germany or Austria, or of the King of Italy, though I know +they existed. + +Into this placid existence turmoil would enter three times a year. The +elder brothers, Hugh, Tommy and B., would come home for the holidays +from Sandhurst and Rugby, and R. would appear, and become almost one +of the family. Then would occur troublous times, with a few advantages +and many disadvantages. + +"Tommy" was a curiously solitary youth as I remember him, who played +the 'cello with great perseverance and considerable success. At +soldiers he was something of a genius, though his games were of an +intricacy which failed to commend itself to me altogether. In his +great soldier days he not only made history, but wrote it--a height to +which I never attained. + +In the holidays, cricket in the back garden became a great feature, +and Tommy was a demon bowler. I fancy, too, that the very elaborate +but highly satisfactory form of the game must have originated with +him. In the back garden we not merely played cricket, but made +history--cricket history. Two county sides were written out, and +we batted alternately for the various cricketers, doing our best +to imitate their styles. We bowled also in a rough imitation of the +styles of the county bowlers whom we represented. This arrangement +secured us against personal rivalry, kept up a tremendous interest in +first-class cricket and enabled matches to continue, if necessary, +for weeks at a time. It encouraged, too, a fair, impersonal and +unprejudiced view of outside events. + +In cricket, war and music we undoubtedly benefited by the holidays, +especially in the summer, when we used to go to the country, often +occupying a school-house with gym, cricket nets and a fair-sized +garden. Ecclesiastical architecture suffered, however.... + +Hugh was a great and glorious person, a towering beneficent despot +when he did appear.... As for me I adored him with whole-hearted +hero-worship. He was the "protector of the poor," who kept the rest of +us in order. He was a magnificent person who revolutionized the art +of war by the introduction of explosives. He was a tremendous walker, +and first taught me to love great tramps over the downs, to sniff +appreciatively the glorious air and to love their bare, storm-swept +outlines. Hugh stood for all that is wholesome, strenuous, out of +doors in my life. Without him I should have been a mere sedentary. +Among other things he was an enthusiastic boxer and gymnast. For these +pursuits I sturdily feigned enthusiasm and suppressed timidity. + +A few more pictures. First, Sunday morning. Gertrude goes off to +Sunday School. She likes teaching and bossing. Hilda and Hugh, who +are greater pals than brother and sister can often be, go off to St. +James', where there will be good music and an interesting sermon. +Tommy goes to St. Mark's, a good Protestant place, or to the beach, +where curious and recondite doctrines are weekly disputed. B. goes to +St. George's, protesting. There is plenty of room for his hat, there +is a congenially aggressive spirit against Rome and it slightly +irritates Ma. Pa is not up yet. Ma and I go to All Souls', because it +is the nearest poor church, and Ma finds it easier to worship where +there are no pew rents, and the seats are uncushioned, and there are +few rich people. I am ever loyal to Ma. + +I often wonder whether the reason why my family are all Churchgoers +now is not that at that time we could choose our church. + +The next picture is Sunday night. "Pa" and I, and perhaps some of +the other boys, set out for St. Paul's, at the other end of the town. +Then, after the service, follows an immense walk all through the slums +of the town. We talk of Australia, where Pa once had a sheep run; of +theology, of the past and the future. This weekly walk is something of +a privilege, and rather solemn. It makes me feel older. + +It is spring. I am at Rugby, and in the "San" with ophthalmia. The +South African war is raging. Hugh is there. I am told that Hugh is +dead. He has been shot in a glorious but futile charge at Paardeberg. +I can't realize it. I am an object of interest, of envy almost, to the +whole school. The flag is half-mast because my brother is dead. Every +one is kind, touched. I put on an air as of a martyr. + +I get a heartbroken letter from my mother. Will I come home? Or hadn't +I better go to Uncle Jack's? If I go home we shall make each other +worse. It is better for me than for Maurice, who is with the fleet in +the Mediterranean with no one to comfort him. + +Ma has had a great shock. She feels it desperately. She thinks all +the others feel it as much. Except Hilda, we don't. There is a huge +piece taken out of Ma's life and Hilda's life, because they were so +unselfishly devoted to Hugh. Pa, also, has lost much, but he is a +philosopher. + +I go to Uncle Jack's and shoot rabbits. The holidays come and go. +Tommy is at Oxford; I am at Rugby. Pa is immersed in theological +speculation about the next world; B. is in the Mediterranean. Ma sends +Gertrude and Hilda away for a long change. They go, and come back. +Something about Ma frightens them. She and Pa come near Rugby and stay +with Uncle Jack. The holidays come. I learn that for the first time +for about twenty years Ma is to go away without Pa. I am to meet her +at Hereford, and we are to go to Wales. Ma forgets things. She is more +loving than ever, but her memory is going. We go to communion together +in the little village church. + +A few weeks later. We are back in Brighton. An Australian uncle and +family are staying with us. Ma is ill in bed. I get up at 6 A.M., +tramp over the downs and in a place I wot of, some five miles away, +I gather heather for Ma. I run. I get back by 8.30. I find my uncle +and cousins getting into a cab. Some one says, "How lovely! Are these +for me?" I grip them in despair. They are for Ma. "Quite right," says +someone. A day or two later my heather was placed, still blooming, on +Ma's grave. + +I was sixteen then. Six years later I return home from abroad. Within +a few weeks of my return I am sitting in Pa's room in agony, listening +to him fight for breath. The fight at last weakens. I hear him +whisper, "Help! help!" I set my teeth. The others come in. There +is silence. All is over. I am given my father's ring. It is my most +treasured possession. + +Henceforth all I have left of home is Hilda, for she alone is +unmarried. Ever since my mother's death she has been my confidante. +As far as was possible she has taken Ma's place in my life, and I have +taken Hugh's place in hers. We are substitutes. For that reason as +we get older we get to know each other better, and to know better how +much we can give to each other. There is more criticism between us +than there would have been between Ma and me, and Hilda and Hugh. But +it has its advantages. We live apart, but we correspond weekly, and +holiday together. It is all that is left of home, and it is infinitely +precious. + +Now that I have written these pages I can see as I have never seen +before how much the child was father of the man. Since those home days +I have had more variety of experience perhaps than falls to the lot +of most men, and I would almost say more varied and more epoch-making +friendships. Yet in these pages that I have written I seem to see all +the essential and salient features of my character already mirrored +and formed. + +I am still by nature lethargic and placid. I could still occupy myself +contentedly With bricks and soldiers, art and history, and trouble +no one. But there is still that other element, instilled by Hugh--a +love of the open air, of struggle with the elements, in lonely desert +places. + +I have never lost the craving for true religion, which induced my +mother to go to a poor church to worship, and to visit the drunken +and helpless in their slums. I have never lost the desire for her +singleness of mind, and simple loyalty to Christ and His Church. At +the same time I have never lost my father's inquiring spirit, broad +view, love of doctrine tempered by reason and founded on history and +tested by human experience. When these two beloved ones passed from +this world I learnt the meaning of the text, "Where your treasure is, +there will your heart be also." My heart has never been wholly in this +world. + +So, too, I have always been a man of few friends. Ronnie has had many +successors; but seldom more than one at a time. I have never cared +much for society. My father and mother neither of them attached much +importance to conventions, or to the fictitious values which society +puts on clothes or money or position. I have always looked rather +for some one to admire, some one whose ideals and personality were +congenial, whatever their position or occupation. I have also, on the +whole, always preferred comfort to show, simple to elaborate living. +This I trace to the simple comfort and naturalness of my old home. + + +II + +SCHOOL + +I went to a day school kept by Ronnie's father when I was nine. +At least, it was a day school for me; but nearly all the boys +were boarders. I worked fairly hard, and got prizes. I was fairly +good at cricket, and not much good at football. I had only one +friend--Ronnie--and about two enemies, both of whom were day boys, and +whom I should have liked to have fought if I had dared. My memories +of the school are few. I best remember leaving home, and going +back, and also playing cricket. Ronnie's father lives as a just and +straightforward gentleman, who never caned a boy except for what was +mean or dirty, and whom we all loved and respected. But then I have +known and loved him and his wife all my life. If our house was a +second home to Ronnie, theirs has always been a second home to me. + +There was one master whom I liked, and who perhaps did something to +develop my character. He was fond of poetry and history, and from him +I learnt--an easy lesson for me--to love history; but what is more, he +first gave me a glimmering idea, which was to develop long after, that +the classics are literature, and not torture. + +I left there to go to Rugby. + +Never did a boy enter Rugby with better chances. The memory of +my three brothers still lived in the house. They had all achieved +distinction in games, and been leading prefects (or sixths as they +are called at Rugby) in the house. Many masters remembered them for +good, particularly Jacky, the housemaster, who had loved them all, +especially Hugh. + +In addition to this, one of the leading fellows in the house, who was +afterwards to be captain of the school fifteen and cricket eleven, +lieutenant in the corps, and one of the racquet pair, had been at my +private school. I shared a study with another fellow who had been at +my private school. Two boys accompanied me from there, one of whom was +my next best friend to Ronnie. His parents were in India, and he had +spent some of his holidays with Ronnie and me. + +But though I loved Rugby and was happy there, I can't say I was a +success. I made few friends, who have since, with one exception, +drifted out of my life. I was too timid to enjoy Rugger. I never +achieved distinction at cricket. I got into the sixth my last term, +but hadn't the force of character to enjoy the prefectural powers +which that fact conferred upon me. The fact is that I left when I was +16, and it is between 16 and 18 that the full enjoyment of school life +comes and boys reap the harvest they have sown. Had I stayed another +year I should have belonged to the leading generation, strengthened +my friendships and developed what was latent in my character. As it +was, I left at an unfortunate age. I was pushed into the sixth a year +before my contemporaries. My friendships were only half formed, and +I had only just begun to feel strength of body and mind developing in +me. + +As a junior I was too conscientious, and not light-hearted enough. +I hardly had any adventures at Rugby, because I had an incurable +instinct for keeping rules. I worked hard at mathematics and French, +and my report generally read, "Good ability. Might exert himself +more." At classics and chemistry I did as little work as possible, +and any report generally read, "Hard-working but not bright." + +On the whole I think I was pretty happy at Rugby; but I never look +back to my school days as the happiest part of my life. I have had +many happier times since. But still, my house was a good one. Jacky, +the housemaster, was wonderfully kind and wise. He hardly ever +interfered with the affairs of the house, but left it all--in +appearance--to the "Sixths." Actually, nothing escaped him. The tone +of the house was on the whole extraordinarily clean and wholesome, +and the fellows who had dirty minds were a small minority, and easily +avoided. At all events, very little of that sort of thing reached me. + +At sixteen and a half I went to the Royal Military Academy at +Woolwich, commonly known as "the Shop." There I spent the two +most miserable years of my life, and made the second of my great +friendships. In these days the Shop was still a pretty rough place, +and at the moment it was unusually full. I think there were over 300 +fellows there altogether, and there were about 70 in my term. My first +experience was unfortunate. I was interviewing the Adjutant, a keen +sportsman and a bit of a tartar. He eyed me unfavourably, asked what +games I could play, and when I replied that I had no great proficiency +in any he commented, "Humph, a good-for-nothing!" and dismissed me. + +I am by nature slow, stolid and clumsy. I was bad at being "smart"; +I was slow and clumsy at drill; map making and geometrical drawing +were physical impossibilities to me; I was incredibly slow and stupid +at machinery, mechanism and electricity. The only subject which +interested me was military history. In my first term I dropped from +about forty-fourth to about seventieth in my class, and I kept near +the bottom until my fourth term, when I failed in my electricity +exam., and had to stay one term more. In the same term I received a +prize for the best essay on the lessons of the South African War. + +Oh, the misery of those terms at Woolwich! I hated the work, the +drill, the gym and even the riding school. I hated the officers, and +above all I hated the spirit of the place. As far as I remember, +the one eternal topic of conversation and subject of "wit" was the +sexual relation. Of course the boys had never been taught sensibly +anything about it. Consequently the place was continually circulated +with filthy books, pictures, stories, etc. When I went there I was +extraordinarily innocent, and devoid of curiosity. I had been recently +the more disposed to purity through the death of my mother. At +Woolwich I remained extraordinarily innocent and uncurious, letting +the poisonous stream flow continually by me, shrinking from its +stench, and finding more and more relief in my own company. I must +have been a very unpleasant person at that time. + +One friend I had. He was a small, compact, keen, and capable little +Rugbian named F----. He was like me in that he had recently lost his +parents, and was interested in religion and philosophy in a boyish +way. Unlike me he rather enjoyed Woolwich. He had a lot of friends, +was keen on riding and on a good deal of the work, and generally +speaking plunged into life, taking the rough with the smooth, and +both in good part. Although we have drifted far apart in ideals and +sympathies, and though misunderstanding has come in and destroyed our +friendship, I shall never cease to be grateful for all that F---- +did for me in those days. He routed me out when I was in the blues, +laughed at me, cheered me up and made me look at life with new eyes. +Moreover he did this, as I know, in defiance of the set with whom he +was friendly, who despised me for a milksop, and were at no pains to +conceal the fact. But for F----, my life at the Shop would have been +intolerable. + +Besides him, I had a few associates, boys with whom I naturally +associated for the simple reason that they, too, were left out of the +main current of the life of the place. But they were not particularly +congenial. One or two were hard workers. One was a great slacker, and +more timid, physically and morally, than even I. He was a boy with a +fatal facility for doing useless things moderately well, especially in +the musical line. He was even more frightened of gym and horses than +I was, and unlike me was not ashamed to show it. If the Shop was +purgatory to me, it must have been hell to him. + +My happiest times were week-ends spent at home. I used to arrive on +Saturday evening and leave on Sunday evening. About now I began to +get to know my father much better, and to develop my theological bent +under his advice. In my disillusionment as to my capacity for military +life I began to wish I had chosen the clerical profession. I think my +father had the shrewdness to see that failure in one profession was +not necessarily the sign of a "call" in another direction. Anyway, he +did not discourage me; but spoke of five years in the Army as the best +training for a parson. + +I remember avowing my intention of becoming a parson to one of my more +friendly acquaintances at the Shop, and he replied that I wouldn't set +the Thames on fire, because I had such a monotonous voice. + +In spite of seeking relief from my uncongenial surroundings in +religion and theology, I did not join myself to any one else. There +was a so-called "Pi Squad," or Bible class, held weekly, but I only +went once, and didn't like it. I was always peculiarly sensitive about +priggishness in those who professed themselves to be religious openly, +and generally thought I detected priggishness in any "Bible circle" +or similar institution that I came across. I think my theology +mainly consisted in speculations about the future state--I remember +I emphatically declined to believe in hell--and my religion consisted +mainly in fairly regular attendance at Matins and Communion. + +Another effect of the intensity with which I hated my surroundings was +that I read a lot of good novels--George Eliot, the Brontës, Scott, +Dickens, Jane Austen, Thackeray, Besant, etc. A book which I read +over and over again was Arthur Benson's _Hill of Trouble, and other +Stories_. Those legends, with their imaginative setting, charm of +language and beautiful religious ideas were more restful to my unquiet +spirit than anything else I read. + +The actual conditions of life at the Shop were pretty barbaric. The +aim was to make it as much like barracks as possible. Each term was +housed in a different side of the square of buildings which form the +Academy, and the fourth term were spread among the houses of the other +terms as corporals. My first term I shared a room with three other +fellows. I think it was the ugliest room I have ever lived in, without +exception. It had high whitewashed brick walls. In each corner was +a bed which folded up against the wall in the day time, and was +concealed by a square of print curtains. There were a deal table, four +windsor chairs, a shelf with four basins, and a cupboard with four +lockers. All the woodwork was painted khaki. The contrast with the +little study at Rugby, with its diamond-paned window, its matchboard +panelling surmounted by a paper of one's own choosing, its ledge +for photos and ornaments ("bim ledge" so called), its eggshell blue +cupboards, baize curtains and window box, was striking. + +It used to be the custom to go to and from the bathroom attired in a +sponge, in connexion with which an amusing incident once happened. + +A cadet in his second year was on the bathroom landing, when he +perceived that the mother and sisters of another cadet were coming +upstairs. From sounds in the bathroom he realized that they would +meet a naked corporal just as they reached the landing. The door of +the bathroom opened outwards, and with admirable presence of mind +he rushed back, and putting his back against the door and his feet +against the wall, imprisoned the corporal. The corporal, in the +approved Shop version of Billingsgate, began to blaspheme at the top +of his voice, so when the ladies reached the top of the stairs they +saw a vision of a cadet with his feet to the wall and his back to a +door singing at the top of his voice to drown a Commotion within! + +On another occasion in my second year, when I was sharing a room +with one other fellow, I had a sister to tea. On arriving in my room +I found that my stablemate had been playing hockey, and was at the +moment in the bathroom, having thoughtlessly left all his clothes in +the room--mostly on the floor. + +On the last day of my first term the corporals and officers were all +absent at a farewell dinner to the former, and we received information +that the third term were going to raid our house, with a view to +"toshing" us in a cold bath. We therefore prepared for action. Every +receptacle which would hold water was taken to the upper landing, +full. Then all the chairs in the house were roped together, and +placed on the stairs as an obstacle. The defenders then took up their +position at the windows and at the top of the stairs. In due course +the enemy's forces arrived, and stormed the stairs, under a heavy fire +of water. The obstacle was at length destroyed, and a solid phalanx +of wet bodies swarmed up the stairs. We formed a similar phalanx +and charged to meet them. I happened to be first, and much to my +discomfiture the enemy's phalanx parted in the middle, and I was +rapidly passed down the stairs--a prisoner! Fortunately at the bottom +I found a relieving party from the next house, making a diversion on +the enemy's rear. With great valour we dragged down a foe, and toshed +him in the bath that had been made ready for us. "The tosher toshed!" + +The next day we surveyed the damage. All the chairs and banisters were +broken, the whitewash was rubbed off the bricks by wet shoulders +and nearly all the basins were broken. That day was the day of Lord +Roberts's half-yearly inspection! + +There was not such another battle until my third term, when we +were the aggressors. This time the damage was even greater, for the +defenders let down tables across the stairs as an obstacle, and we +battered our way through with scaffolding poles. There were some +casualties that day, owing to an indiscriminate use of mop handles. + +On the day of Lord Roberts's inspection we had to change from parade +dress to gym dress, and it was during the change that Lord Roberts +inspected our quarters. He went into one room and found a fellow just +half-way through his change--with nothing at all on! The room was +called to attention, and with great presence of mind the boy dashed +into the bed curtains and stood to attention there, while Lord Roberts +had an animated conversation with him! + +There were jolly moments in the life at the Shop. On Saturdays, after +dinner, the unfortunates who had not got away for the week-end used to +have "stodges" after dinner. Having put away a substantial dinner, we +changed into flannels, and used to crowd into some one's room, and eat +muffins and smoke cigars. I remember one night there were eighteen of +us in one small room. + +In order to go away for a week-end one had to obtain (1) an +invitation, (2) permission from parent or guardian to accept the +invitation. One week my brother, who was working at the Admiralty, +offered his flat to myself and F----, as he was going to Brighton +himself. Fleming wrote to his guardian--a Scotsman--for permission +to stay with Captain Hankey. The guardian wrote back for more +information. He saw by the Army List that Captain Hankey existed, but +who were the Hankeys? etc., etc. F---- wrote back a furious letter, +saying that he expected to have his friends accepted without question, +and received the permission. We went. The awkward thing was that +Captain Hankey was not there, and we shuddered to think of the rage of +F----'s guardian if he should find out. Worse still, the guardian was +supposed to be staying at the Oriental Club in Hanover Square, and my +brother's flat was in Oxford Street! However, we didn't meet. + +F---- and I neither of us knew London, and had the time of our lives. +We dined at Frascati's--a palace of splendour in our eyes--and went to +His Majesty's to see Beerbohm Tree in Ulysses. When it came to Hades, +we held each other's hands! On Sunday we went to St. Peter's, Vere +Street, but were so furious at being kept waiting for pew holders +long after service had commenced, that we went on to the Audley Street +Chapel, a most queer little place. It was full of monuments to the +dependents of peers, in which the peers figured very largely and +the dependents fared humbly--the epitome of flunkeydom. Among these +tablets was one inscribed-- + + "To John Wilkes, + Friend of Liberty." + +Truly refreshing! + +We finished the day at some old friends of mine, and voted the +week-end a huge success. + +When I went to Woolwich I was just on the verge of getting keen +on games and beginning to feel self-confident, and to enjoy the +fellowship of my comrades. Woolwich nipped this in the bud. I left +with no self-confidence, having renounced games, and with a sense +of solitariness among my comrades. I was a misanthrope, and the +unhappiest sort of egotist--the kind that dislikes himself. To say +the truth, too, I was then, and always have been, a bit of a funk, +physically, which didn't make me happier. On the other hand, I was an +omnivorous reader of everything which did not concern my profession, +and a dabbler in military history. + +I have sometimes thought that I was unconsciously a bit of a hero at +Woolwich, standing out for purity and religion in an atmosphere of +filth and blasphemy. I have come to the conclusion, however, that +there was nothing in this. As to the general atmosphere, there is +no doubt that it was singularly pernicious; even the officers and +instructors contributed their quota of filthy jokes, and there was no +religious instruction or influence at all except the parade service at +the garrison church on Sunday, if one happened not to be on leave. But +as to my heroism I am reluctantly compelled to be sceptical. I went +as far as I felt my inclination, and stopped after a time because +instinct was too strong the other way. + +As I have said before, I have always had an insurmountable instinct +for keeping rules. At school I could never bring myself to transgress, +although I knew that transgression was the road to adventure. So +at the Shop, however much I may have wished to be in the swim, my +instinct for the moral and religious code of home was too strong for +me. It required no self-control to prevent myself from slipping into +blasphemy and filth. On the contrary, in order to do so I should have +had to violate my strongest instincts, and exercised a will to evil +much stronger than any will power that I possessed at that time. If, +when I left Woolwich, I was comparatively pure, it was because nature +did not allow me to be anything else. + +To say the truth, I have never felt the sway of passions to anything +like the same extent as most men seem to. I have never cared for the +society of women for its sexual attraction. Consequently all my women +friends have been just the same to me as my men friends--friends whom +I could talk to about the things that interested me. + +I don't boast of this, I only state the fact. I am not proud of it +because I know that some passion is necessary to make heroes and even +saints. + + + + +SOME NOTES ON THE FRAGMENT OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY BY "HILDA" + + +I have before me as I write a pencil sketch, limned with considerable +care, of a rather disagreeable looking young man, and beneath it is +written-- + + "D.W.A.H., by Himself." + +It is a profile. The eye has almost disappeared under the brow, the +mouth is tightly closed to a degree that is quite unpleasant and there +is a deliberate exaggeration of a slight defect he actually had--a +tendency for the lower jaw to protrude a little. This little defect +hardly any of his friends seem to have noticed, for most of them +execrate it as a libel in the otherwise admittedly beautiful +photograph at the beginning of this volume. The expression in the +sketch is above all--dubious. + +So did Donald see himself. + +For the rest of us no doubt the lessons Mr. Haselden has for us in his +caricatures, "ourselves as we see ourselves" and "as others see us," +are necessary. But not for Donald. The drawing is pasted into an album +which contains mainly Oxford College groups, and there is a certain +unpleasant resemblance between it and his full face presentment in one +of the groups--in which he has "the group expression" rather badly. +Assuming it to have been drawn at Oxford, or not very long after he +left, I think it must belong very nearly to a time when he was going +off abroad on one of his long trips, and I had the sympathy of a +dear old lady friend of ours on having to part with him. I remember +replying, "Yes, it always seems as if peace and happiness, truth and +justice, religion and piety went with him when he goes!" She laughed +a good deal, and then said, seriously, repeating over to herself the +stately mounting sixteenth century phrases, "But it's quite true, you +know!" I hardly think, though, that I should have said it of the young +man in the sketch! + +I am now going to make a comment or two on my brother's word-pictures +as I should if he were by my side. But first I should like his readers +to know and realize that both were written before the period of what +I may call Donald's "Renaissance," a period that can be roughly marked +by the publication of his first book, _The Lord of all Good Life_. + +Up to then he had been struggling in vain for self-expression. How he +had worked the amount of MSS. he has left alone proves--for we have it +on a friend's testimony that "he tore up much of what he wrote"; and +he also had experienced and suffered, violating his natural "timidity" +and his in some ways, precarious health, for he had never got over +certain weaknesses engendered by his illness in Mauritius--in his +struggle to get a true basis for a solution of the meaning of life +and of religion. What cost him most was the knowledge that he +was frequently doubted and misunderstood by many of those whose +approbation would have been very dear to him. This is proved by his +constantly expressed gratitude to the one or two who never doubted him +for one moment. + +With the writing of this book, as we know, all his difficulties began +to clear away, and at the same time he began to reap the harvest of +love and admiration that he had sown in his toils to produce it. +And the result was he opened out like a flower to the sun! No one +can doubt this for a moment who has read his book of a year later, +_The Student in Arms_, and rejoiced in the radiant happiness of its +inspiration. + +He had more than once said to me during the past two years, "You know +it makes a _tremendous_ difference to me when people really _like_ +me." No longer was it a case of "one friend at a time." The period for +that was over and done with. He had come into his own. He was ready +for a universal brotherhood, and no hand would ever be held out to him +in vain. + +It is impossible to believe that he does not now know of and +appreciate all the beautiful tributes that have come to him since +his "passing"--from the perfect wreath of immortelles weaved by Mr. +Strachey to the sweet pansy of thought dropped by a little fellow +V.A.D. of mine who said beautifully and courageously--though knowing +him solely through his book--"We feel since he gave us his thought +that he belongs a tiny bit to us, too," thus voicing the feeling of +many. + +I believe the paper entitled "My Home" to have been written at Oxford, +and "School" not so very long after. In any case, I have definite +proof of their both belonging to Donald's pre-"Renaissance" period, +for the friendship with F----, that began at "the Shop" and went under +a cloud for a time, was renewed with fresh vigour in 1914, and has +burned brightly ever since. Only last July was I sent by him a letter +of F----'s from the trenches, with the injunction, "Please put this +among my treasures," and there is an allusion to a story told in this +letter in the article entitled "Romance" of the present volume. + +To return to "My Home," I question whether the love and devotion of +"Hilda" and "Ma" for Hugh was so entirely unselfish. For my mother I +fully believe, as for "Hilda," Hugh was the epitome of all that was +fine, splendid and joyous in life. He was the glorious knight, the +"preux chevalier" "sans peur et sans reproche," who rode forth at dawn +with clean sword and shining armour, and all the world before him, yet +keeping his heart for ever in his home. He was the child of her youth +as Donald was the child of her maturity. Deep down in her wonderfully +varied nature there were certain bottomless springs of courage, daring +and enterprise which she herself had little chance of expressing and +of which Hugh alone was the personification. + +As long as I can remember Hugh had been my ideal and made all the +interest and joy of life for me. Whether he were at home or abroad I +never had a thought I did not share with him. When he died, the best +part of me died too, or was paralysed rather, and Heaven knows what +sort of a "substitute" I should have been for "Ma" to Donald, had not +the baby Hugh come, just in time, with healing in his wings to restore +life to the best part of me! + +I am glad to think that Donald's "Autobiography" was written before +1914, for I know that even before that I was becoming more to him than +a "substitute." I too have my memories and pictures! + +It is May, 1915. I am in the country-house--cleaning is going on at +home. + +I get a letter to say that the Rifle Brigade may leave for France +at any time, and that Donald _may_ get some "leave" on Saturday or +Sunday. + +I make a dash for town. + +There I find a telegram of reckless and unconscionable length, running +into two pages. He cannot come up--they may leave at any moment. It +seems hardly worth while my bothering to come to Aldershot on the +chance--he may be unable to leave barracks. + +I write a return telegram--also of reckless and unconscionable length, +and reply paid--it is a relief to do so--asking for a place of meeting +at Aldershot to be suggested. + +I get no answer at all, and on Sunday morning, in despair, I go +over to see my aunt and cousin. My aunt is my mother's sister and a +sportswoman. She counsels, "Go at all costs." Dorothy will come with +me: Dorothy is Donald's best woman pal--she reminds him of his mother. +She is all that is wholesome and comportable. + +The element of enjoyment comes in, and I go home and pack a nice +lunch. + +We arrive at Aldershot. + +There is no one on the platform to meet us, and we push our way +through the turnstile. + +There is Donald, on the outskirts of the waiting crowd--a tall, +soldierly figure in the uniform of a private--for he has resigned his +sergeant's stripes by now. + +His face is very boyish--not the face of the photograph at the +beginning of this book: that was taken after he had been to France, +and had been wounded, and had written "A Passing in June," and "The +Honour of the Brigade"--but a much younger face, really boyish. + +He glances quickly and anxiously at every face that passes, and each +time he is a little more disappointed--but he tries not to show it. + +I am not tall and cannot catch his eye. It is like being at a play, +watching him! All at once he sees me! Involuntarily a sudden quick +spasm of joy passes across his face, absolutely transfiguring it. + +He smooths it away quickly, for he is a Briton and does not like to +show his feelings--but he has given himself away! + +Dorothy and I shall never forget that look. And it was for _me_--at +first he does not see Dorothy. When he does it is an added pleasure. + +With _two_ ladies to escort he assumes a lordly air. + +He had thought of everything. We would like some tea? Yes, all the big +places are shut as it is Sunday, but he has marked down a little place +on his way to the station. + +It is a lovely day, and we are very happy! + +The girl who waits upon us at the little tea place likes us, and so do +the other Tommies and their friends who are having tea there. + +We sit at little tables, but at very close quarters with each other, +and we smile at them and they at us. + +I have brought Donald some letters, which pleases him, and Dorothy has +brought him some splendid socks, knitted by herself. + +After tea we walk across an arid plain to a little wood, and sit down +under the trees. + +Donald changes to the new socks--those he had on were wringing wet! + +He picks us little bunches of violets, hyacinths and wild strawberry +flowers--we have them still. + +We are very happy the whole of the day, and have my sandwiches and +cake and fruit for supper, there under the trees. And here in thought +let me leave "The Student in Arms," who was to me part son, best pal, +brother, comrade, and counsellor on all subjects--and more than a +little bit of grandpapa! + +He could be so many different things because, as another friend and +cousin said, "he seemed to know everything about everybody." + +I like to think of those two fine spirits--Hugh and Donald--each with +a hand to the tiny baby nephew, and a word of greeting for me when I +go over the top. + + +THE END + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Student in Arms, by Donald Hankey + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A STUDENT IN ARMS *** + +***** This file should be named 14823-8.txt or 14823-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/8/2/14823/ + +Produced by Rick Niles, William Flis, and the PG Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Second Series.</title> + <style type="text/css"> + /*<![CDATA[*/ + + <!-- + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + p {text-align: justify;} + blockquote {text-align: justify;} + h1,h2,h3,h4 {text-align: center;} + .sc {font-variant: small-caps;} + + hr {text-align: center; width: 50%;} + html>body hr {margin-right: 25%; margin-left: 25%; width: 50%;} + hr.full {width: 100%;} + html>body hr.full {margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 0%; width: 100%;} + hr.short {text-align: center; width: 20%;} + html>body hr.short {margin-right: 40%; margin-left: 40%; width: 20%;} + + .note + {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + + span.pagenum + {position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 91%; font-size: 8pt; text-indent: 0;} + + .poem + {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem p.i4 {margin-left: 2em;} + .poem p.i6 {margin-left: 3em;} + .poem p.i8 {margin-left: 4em;} + .poem p.i10 {margin-left: 5em;} + + .drama {margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .drama p {margin: 1em 0em 0em 0em;; padding-left: 2em; text-indent: -2em;} + .drama p.i2 {margin: 0; margin-left: 1em;} + .drama p.i4 {margin: 0; margin-left: 2em;} + .drama p.i6 {margin: 0; margin-left: 3em;} + .drama p.i8 {margin: 0; margin-left: 4em;} + .drama p.i10 {margin: 0; margin-left: 5em;} + + .figure, .figcenter, .figright, .figleft + {padding: 1em; margin: 0; text-align: center; font-size: 0.8em;} + .figure img, .figcenter img, .figright img, .figleft img + {border: none;} + .figure p, .figcenter p, .figright p, .figleft p + {margin: 0; text-indent: 1em;} + .figcenter {margin: auto;} + .figright {float: right;} + .figleft {float: left;} + + .footnote {font-size: 0.9em; margin-right: 10%; margin-left: 10%;} + + p.author {text-align: right; margin-right:10%;} + --> + /*]]>*/ + </style> +</head> + +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Student in Arms, by Donald Hankey + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Student in Arms + Second Series + +Author: Donald Hankey + +Release Date: January 28, 2005 [EBook #14823] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A STUDENT IN ARMS *** + + + + +Produced by Rick Niles, William Flis, and the PG Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + + +</pre> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/1.png" + alt="(Cover)" /></a> + </div> + + <h1>A</h1> + + <h1>Student in Arms</h1> + + <h2>Second Series</h2> + + <h3>By</h3> + + <h3>Donald Hankey</h3> + + <h4>With an Introduction by J. St. Loe Strachey</h4> + + <h4>Editor of <i>The Spectator</i></h4> + + <h4>New York</h4> + + <h4>B.P. Dutton & Co.</h4> + + <h4>681 Fifth Avenue</h4> + + <center> + Published 1917 BY E.P. DUTTON & CO. + </center> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/3.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/3.png" + alt="DONALD HANKEY" /></a>DONALD HANKEY + </div> + + <h2>CONTENTS</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="sc"><a href="#SOMETHING">Something about "A + Student in Arms" 1</a></p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="sc"><a href="#foreword">Author's Foreword + 33</a></p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="sc"><a href="#I">I.—The Potentate + 37</a></p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="sc"><a href="#II">II.—The Bad Side of + Military Service 51</a></p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="sc"><a href="#III">III.—The Good Side + of "Militarism" 65</a></p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="sc"><a href="#IV">IV.—A Month's + Reflections 79</a></p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="sc"><a href="#V">V.—Romance 93</a></p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="sc"><a href="#VI">VI.—Imaginary + Conversations (I) 109</a></p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="sc"><a href="#VII">VII.—The Fear of + Death in War 115</a></p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="sc"><a href="#VIII">VIII.—Imaginary + Conversations (II) 127</a></p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="sc"><a href="#IX">IX.—The Wisdom of "A + Student in Arms" 139</a></p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="sc"><a href="#X">X.—Imaginary + Conversations (III) 145</a></p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="sc"><a href="#XI">XI.—Letter to an Army + Chaplain 153</a></p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="sc"><a href="#XII">XII.—"Don't Worry" + 165</a></p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="sc"><a href="#XIII">XIII.—Imaginary + Conversations (IV) 175</a></p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="sc"><a href="#XIV">XIV.—A Passing in + June, 1915 181</a></p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="sc"><a href="#XV">XV.—My Home and + School:</a></p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="sc"> I My Home 199</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="sc"> II School 216</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="sc"><a href="#SOME">Some Notes on the + Fragment of Autobiography by "Hilda" 237</a></p> + </div> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page1" + id="page1"></a>[pg 1]</span> + <hr /> + <a name="SOMETHING" + id="SOMETHING"></a> + + <h2>SOMETHING ABOUT "A STUDENT IN ARMS"</h2> + + <h2 class="sc">By H.M.A.H.</h2> + + <p>"His life was a Romance of the most noble and beautiful + kind." So says one who has known him from childhood, and into + how many dull, hard and narrow lives has he not been the first + to bring the element of Romance?</p> + + <p>He carried it about with him; it breathes through his + writings, and this inevitable expression of it gives the saying + of one of his friends, that "it is as an artist that we shall + miss him most," the more significance.</p> + + <p>And does not the artist as well as the poet live forever in + his works? Is not the breath of inspiration that such alone can + breathe into the dull clods of their generation bound to be + immortal?</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page2" + id="page2"></a>[pg 2]</span> + + <p>Meanwhile, his "Romance" is to be written and his biographer + will be one whose good fortune it has been to see much of the + "Student" in Bermondsey, the place that was the forcing-house + of his development. In the following pages it is proposed only + to give an outline of his life, and particularly the earlier + and therefore to the public unknown parts.</p> + + <p>Donald Hankey was born at Brighton in 1884; he was the + seventh child of his parents, and was welcomed with excitement + and delight by a ready-made family of three brothers and two + sisters living on his arrival amongst them. He was the youngest + of them by seven years, and all had their plans for his + education and future, and waited jealously for the time when he + should be old enough to be removed from the loving shelter of + his mother's arms and be "brought up."</p> + + <p>His education did, as a matter of fact, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page3" + id="page3"></a>[pg 3]</span> begin at a very early age; for + one day, when he was perhaps about three years old, dressed + in a white woolly cap and coat, and out for his morning + walk, a neighbouring baby stepped across from his nurse's + side and with one well-directed blow felled Donald to the + ground! Donald was too much astonished and hurt at the sheer + injustice of the assault to dream of retaliation, but when + they reached home and his indignant nurse told the story, he + was taken aside by his brothers and made to understand that + by his failure to resist the assault, and give the other + fellow back as good as he gave, "the honour of the family" + was impugned! He was then and there put through a systematic + course of "the noble art of self-defence." "And I think," + said one of his brothers only the other day, "that he was + prepared to act upon his instructions should occasion + arise." It will be seen from this incident that his + bringing-up was of a decidedly strenuous + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page4" + id="page4"></a>[pg 4]</span> character and likely to make + Donald's outlook on life a serious one!</p> + + <p>He was naturally a peace-loving and philosophical little + boy, very lovable and attractive with his large clear eyes with + their curious distribution of colour—the one entirely + blue and the other three parts a decided brown—the big + head set proudly on the slender little body, and the radiant + illuminating smile, that no one who knew him well at any time + of his life can ever forget. It spoke of a light within, "that + mysterious light which is of course not physical," as was said + by one who met him only once, but was quick to note this + characteristic.</p> + + <p>Donald's more strenuous times were in the boys' + holidays—those tumultuous of seasons so well known to the + members of all big families! His eldest brother, Hugh, was bent + on making an all-round athlete of him; another brother saw in + him an embryo county cricketer, while a third was most + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page5" + id="page5"></a>[pg 5]</span> particular about his music, + giving him lessons on the violoncello with clockwork + regularity. The games were terribly thrilling and dangerous, + especially when the schoolroom was turned into a miniature + battlefield, with opposing armies of tiny lead soldiers. But + Donald never turned a hair if Hugh were present, even at the + most terrific explosions of gun-powder. His confidence in + Hugh was complete. Nor did he mind personal injuries. When + on one occasion he was hurled against the sharp edge of a + chair, cutting his head open badly, and his mother came to + the rescue with indignation, sympathy and bandages, whilst + accepting the latter he deprecated the two former, + explaining apologetically, "It's only because my head's so + big."</p> + + <p>He admitted in after years to having felt most terribly + swamped by the personalities of two of his brothers. The third + he had more in common with, for he was more peace-loving, and + he seemed <span class="pagenum"><a name="page6" + id="page6"></a>[pg 6]</span> to have more time to listen to + the small boy's confidences and stories, which Donald + started to write at the age of six.</p> + + <p>Hugh, however, was his hero—a kind of demi-god. And + truly there was something Greek about the boy—in his + singular beauty of person, coupled with his brilliant mental + equipment, and above all in the nothing less than Spartan + methods with which, in spite of a highly sensitive temperament, + he set himself to overcome his handicap of a naturally delicate + physique and a bad head for heights. He turned himself out + quite an athlete, and actually cured his bad head by a course + of walking on giddy heights, preferably roofs—the parapet + of the tall four-storied house the children lived in being a + favourite training ground.</p> + + <p>Donald was the apple of his eye, and he was quick to note a + certain lack of vitality about the little boy—especially + when he was growing fast—and a certain natural timidity. + His letters from school <span class="pagenum"><a name="page7" + id="page7"></a>[pg 7]</span> are full of messages to and + instructions concerning Donald's physical training, and from + Sandhurst he would long to "run over and see after his + boxing." He called him Don Diego, a name that suited the + rather stately little fellow, and he used to fear sometimes + that Donald was "getting too polite" and say he must "knock + it out of him in the holidays." Needless to say, his + handling of him was always very gentle.</p> + + <p>The other over-vital brother, if a prime amuser, was also a + prime tease, and being nearer Donald in age was also much less + gentle.</p> + + <p>Before very long these great personages took themselves off + "zum neuen taten." But their Odysseys came home in the shape of + letters, which, with their descriptions of strange countries + and peoples and records of adventures—often the + realization of boyish dreams—and also of difficulties + overcome, were well calculated to appeal to + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page8" + id="page8"></a>[pg 8]</span> Donald's childish imagination, + and to increase his admiration for the writers—and + also his feeling of impotence, and of the impossibility of + being able to follow in the tracks of such giants among + men!</p> + + <p>His mother, however, was his never-failing confidante and + friend. His love and admiration for her were unbounded, as for + her courage, unselfishness and constant thought for others, + more especially for the poor and insignificant among her + neighbours. Though the humblest minded of women, she could, + when occasion demanded, administer a rebuke with a decision and + a fire that must have won the heartfelt admiration of her + diffident little son.</p> + + <p>He was not easily roused himself, but there is one instance + of his being so that is eminently characteristic. He had come + back from school evidently very perturbed, and at first his + sister could get nothing out of him. But at last he flared up. + His face reddened, his eyes burned like coals + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page9" + id="page9"></a>[pg 9]</span> and, in a voice trembling with + rage, he said, "—— (naming a school-fellow) + talks about things that I won't even <i>think</i>!"</p> + + <p>At the age of about 14 he, too, went to Rugby, and there is + an interesting prophecy about him by his brother Hugh belonging + to this time. Hugh had by now earned a certain right to + pronounce judgment, having already started to fulfil his early + promise by making some mark as a soldier and a linguist. He had + been invited to join the Egyptian Army at a critical time in + the campaign of 1897-98, thanks to his proficiency in Arabic. + His work was cut short by serious illness, the long period of + convalescence after which he had utilized in working for and + passing the Army Interpreter's examination in Turkish as well + as the higher one in Arabic and his promotion exam. All of + which achievements had been of use in helping him to wring out + of the War Office a promise of + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page10" + id="page10"></a>[pg 10]</span> certain distinguished service + in China. In a letter home he writes:—</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>2ND BATT. THE ROYAL WARWICKSHIRE, REGT.,</p> + + <p>THE CAMP,</p> + + <p>COLCHESTER.</p> + + <p>28th Sept., 1899.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>MY DEAR MAMMA,—</p> + + <p>I packed Donald off to school to-day in good time and + cold-less.... He was wonderfully calm and collected. He was + more at his ease in our mess than I should have been in a + strange mess, and made himself agreeable to his neighbours + without being forward. Also he looked very clean and smart, + and was altogether quite a success.</p> + + <p>That child has a future before him if his energy is up + to form, which I hope. His philosophy is most amazing. He + looks remarkably healthy, and is growing nicely....</p> + </blockquote> + + <p>Shortly after this letter was written the South African War + broke out, and before six months were over the writer was + killed in action, at the age of 27, whilst + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page11" + id="page11"></a>[pg 11]</span> serving with the Mounted + Infantry at Paardeberg.</p> + + <p>It was the first sorrow of Donald's life, but six months + later he was to suffer a yet more crushing blow in the loss of + his dearly loved mother. The loss of his best confidante and + his ideal seemed at first to stun the boy completely, and to + cast him in upon himself entirely. Later on he remembered that + he had felt at that time that he had nothing to say to any one. + He had wondered what the others could have thought of him, and + had thought how dreadfully unresponsive they must be finding + him. His sister should have been of some use. But she can only + think of herself then as of some strange figure, veiled and + petrified with grief—grief <i>not</i> for her mother, but + for the young hero whose magnetism had thrilled through every + moment of her life—yet pointing onwards, with mutely + insistent finger, to the path that her hero had trodden. And + Donald, dazed also <span class="pagenum"><a name="page12" + id="page12"></a>[pg 12]</span> himself by grief—though + from another cause—of his own accord, placed his first + uncertain steps on the road that leads to military glory. No + "voice" warned him as yet, and he had no other decisive + leading.</p> + + <p>If his sister failed him then, his father did not. Of him + Donald wrote recently to an aunt, "Papa's letters to me are a + heritage whose value can never diminish. His was indeed the pen + of a ready writer, and in his case, as in the case of many + rather reserved people, the pen did more justice to the man + than the tongue. I never knew him until Mamma's death, when the + weekly letter from him took the place of hers, and never + stopped till I came home."</p> + + <p>At Rugby, Donald was accounted a dreamer. Without the outlet + he had hitherto had for his confidences and his thoughts no + doubt the tendency to dream grew upon him. "Behold this dreamer + cometh," was actually said of him by one of his masters.</p> + + <p>Nevertheless there were happy times + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page13" + id="page13"></a>[pg 13]</span> when youth asserted itself + and boyish friendships were made. In work he did well, for + he entered the sixth form at the early age of 16-1/2, and + was thereby enabled, though he left young, to have his name + painted up "in hall" below those of his three brothers, and + also on his "study" door which belonged to each of the four + in turn.</p> + + <p>He entered the Royal Military Academy, Woolwich, straight + from Rugby, and before he was seventeen. We have his word for + it that he was spiritually very unhappy there, finding evils + with which he was impotent to grapple, going up as he did so + young from school and before he had had time to acquire a + "games" reputation—that all-important qualification for a + boy if he wishes to influence his fellows. Nevertheless + youthful spirits were bound to triumph sometimes. He was a + perfectly sound and healthy, well-grown boy and a friend who + was with him at "the <span class="pagenum"><a name="page14" + id="page14"></a>[pg 14]</span> Shop" says he can remember no + apparent trace of unhappiness, and is full of tales of his + jokes and his fun, his quaint caricatures and doggerel + rhymes, his love of flowers and nature, his hospitalities, + and his joy in getting his friends to meet and know and like + each other. Though he made no mark at Woolwich he did carry + off the prize for the best essay on the South African War. + With it he made his first appearance in print, for it was + printed in the R.M.A. Magazine. While he was at Woolwich the + family circle was enlarged by the arrival of a cousin from + Australia, and she and Donald became the greatest of + friends. She reminded him in some way of his mother, and + this made all the difference.</p> + + <p>The Island of Mauritius, to which he was sent at the age of + twenty, not so very long after having received his commission + in the Royal Garrison Artillery, stood for him later on, he has + told us, as "Revelation"—"for there it was that I was + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page15" + id="page15"></a>[pg 15]</span> first a sceptic, and was + first shown that I could not remain one." Also towards the + end of his stay there, when he was doubting as to what + course he should take, a sentence came to him insistently, + "Would you know Christ? Lo, He is working in His vineyard." + It was these things that decided him eventually to resign + his commission, but of them his letters home make little or + no mention. They are full, on the other hand, of + descriptions of the beauties of the Island which, curious, + odd, freakish and unexpected, held him as did those of no + other place. The curious inconsistencies of the Creole + nature also interested him, and he spent much of his spare + time sketching and studying the people. Two friendships he + made there were diverse and lasting, but he complains very + much of feeling the lack of a woman friend—no one to + tease and pick flowers for!</p> + + <p>While he was still there, there appeared + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page16" + id="page16"></a>[pg 16]</span> at home a baby + nephew—another "Hugh"—"trailing clouds of + glory," but to return all too soon to his "Eternal Home." + Some years previously, when his eldest sister had told him + of her engagement, he congratulated her warmly, and said he + "had always longed for a nephew"! He never saw the child, + but wrote after his death that he had heard so much about + him that he seemed to know him, and "I think I must have + played with him in my dreams." Possibly the baby nephew, in + his short ten months of life, did more for his uncle than + either knew, for no frozen hearts could do otherwise than + melt in the presence of the insistent needs of that gallant + little spirit and fragile little body, and a more + whole-hearted sister was awaiting him on his return home, + which took place at the end of two years, after he had + fallen a victim to the prevalent complaint in the + R.G.A—abscess on the liver. It was caused by the + shocking conditions under which the R.G.A. had + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page17" + id="page17"></a>[pg 17]</span> to live in Mauritius during + that hot summer when the Russian Fleet sojourned in + Madagascan waters, and in Donald's case it necessitated a + severe operation.</p> + + <p>His joy in his homecoming was quickly clouded over, for his + father died only a month or two after his return; not, however, + before he had given a delighted acquiescence to Donald's + proposal to resign his commission and go to Oxford in order to + study theology—his own favourite pursuit—with the + object of eventually taking Holy Orders.</p> + + <p>In the spring of 1907 Donald took a trip to Italy with his + sister and a Rhodes Scholar cousin from Australia. It was the + young men's first visit, and each brought back a special + trophy: Donald's, a large photograph of a fine virile "Portrait + of a man" by Giorgione in black and white, and his cousin, a + sweet Madonna head by Luini.</p> + + <p>Donald gave his sister her trophy on their return home, in + remembrance of the <span class="pagenum"><a name="page18" + id="page18"></a>[pg 18]</span> lectures she had given the + two of them on the pre-Raphaelite painters in Florence. It + took the form of a water-colour caricature of herself, + sitting enthroned in a Loggia as a sort of Sybil Saint with + a halo and a book (Baedeker). Behind her, and outlined + against a pale sky as seen through an archway of the Loggia + in the typical Florentine fashion, are the blue mountains + near Florence, some tall cypresses, a campanile and a castle + perched on the top of a hill—all features of the + landscapes through which they had passed together. In the + foreground are himself and his cousin as monks adoring, also + with haloes, and expressions of mock ecstasy!</p> + + <p>On his return Donald went for a few months to Rugby House, + the Rugby School Mission, in order to cram for Oxford. He + thereby made a friend, and learned to love Browning.</p> + + <p>After living so long at Brighton, and then in barracks, the + beauty of Oxford <span class="pagenum"><a name="page19" + id="page19"></a>[pg 19]</span> was in itself alone a + revelation to him. The work there, too, was entirely + congenial. As a gunner subaltern he had been a square peg in + a round hole. As regards the work there had been far too + much to be accepted on authority for one of his fundamental + type of mind; the relations existing between an officer and + his men—in peace time, at any rate—seemed to him + hardly human, and the making of quick decisions, which an + officer is continually called upon to do, was then as always + very difficult to him. His tastes, too, unusual in a + subaltern, had made him rather lonely. He found much more in + common with the undergraduate than with the subaltern. Going + up as an "oldster" (22) was to him an advantage rather than + otherwise, for his six years in the Army had given him a + certain prestige which was a help to his natural diffidence, + and helped to open more doors to him, so that he was not + limited to any + set.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page20" + id="page20"></a>[pg 20]</span> + + <p>He gained some reputation as a host, for he had the born + host's gift of getting the right people together and making + them feel at their ease. There was also, as a rule, some little + individual touch about his entertainments that made them stand + out. His manner, though naturally boyish and shy, could be both + gay and debonair, quite irresistible in fact, when he was + surrounded by congenial spirits! He played hockey, and was made + a member of several clubs, sketched and made beautiful + photographs. His time he divided strictly between the study of + man and the study of theology, and though he did much hard, + thorough and careful work in connexion with the latter, he + always maintained that for a man who was going to be a parson + the former was the more important study of the two.</p> + + <p>He used, however, to complain much at this time of feeling + himself incapable of any very strong emotion, even that of + sorrow.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page21" + id="page21"></a>[pg 21]</span> + + <p>No doubt there is more stimulation to the brain than to the + heart in the highly critical atmosphere of all phases of the + intellectual life at Oxford; also Donald had hardly yet got + over the shocks of his youth and the loneliness of his life + abroad. He was, too, essentially and curiously the son of his + father—even to his minor tastes, such as his + connoisseur's palate for a good wine and his judgment in + "smokes"—and this feeling of a certain detachment from + the larger emotions of life was always his father's + pose—the philosopher's. In his father's case it was + perhaps engendered, if not necessitated, by his poor health and + wretched nerves.</p> + + <p>But can we not trace his dissatisfaction at this time in + what he felt to be his cold philosophical attitude towards life + to the same cause as much of the misery he suffered as a boy! + In the paper he calls "School," which follows with that + entitled "Home," he tells us how he would have liked to have + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page22" + id="page22"></a>[pg 22]</span> chastised a school-fellow + "had he dared," and his failure to dare was evidently what + reduced him to the state of impotent rage described on page + 9 of this sketch. Again at Woolwich, what made him unhappy + was not so much the evils which he saw but his impotence to + deal with them. So now again at Oxford he feels "impotent," + impotent this time to feel and sympathize as he would have + wished with suffering humanity. But within him was the + light, "the light which is, of course, not physical," which + betrayed itself through his wonderful smile—the same + now as in babyhood; and from his mother, and perhaps also + from the young country that gave her birth, he had + inherited, as well as her great heart and broad human + sympathies, the vigour that was to carry him through the + experiences by means of which, in the fullness of time, that + light, no longer dormant, was to break into a flame of + infinite possibilities.</p> + + <p>Donald's one complaint against Oxford + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page23" + id="page23"></a>[pg 23]</span> was that the ideas that are + born and generated there so often evaporate in talk and + smoke. He left with the determination to "do," but before + going on to a Clergy School he decided to accept a friend's + invitation to visit him in savage Africa so that he might + think things over, and put to the test, far away from the + artificialities of Modern Life, the ideas he had assimilated + in the highly sophisticated atmosphere of Oxford. As he + quaintly put it: "Since Paul went into Arabia for three + years, I don't see why I should not go to British East + Africa for six months!" He did not, however, stay the whole + time there, but re-visited his beloved Mauritius, and also + stayed in Madagascar.</p> + + <p>The beginning of 1911 found him at the Clergy School. But + what he wanted he did not find there. During his Oxford + vacations he had made many expeditions to poorer London, at + first to Notting Dale where was the Rugby School Mission, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page24" + id="page24"></a>[pg 24]</span> and afterwards to Bermondsey. + But these expeditions had not been entirely satisfactory. He + had then gone as a "visitor." The lessons he wanted to learn + now from "the People" could only be learned by becoming as + far as possible one of them. The story of his struggles to + do so in his life in Bermondsey, and of his journey to + Australia in the steerage of a German liner and of his + roughing it there, always with the same object in view, + cannot be told here. The first outcome of it all was the + writing of his book, <i>The Lord of All Good Life</i>. Of + this book he says, in a letter to his friend Tom Allen of + the Oxford and Bermondsey Mission:</p> + + <p>"The book I regard as my child. I feel quite absurdly about + it; to me it is the sudden vision of what lots of obscure + things really meant. It is coming out of dark shadows + into—moonlight ... I would have you to realize that it + was written spontaneously in a burst, in six + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page25" + id="page25"></a>[pg 25]</span> weeks, without any + consultation of authorities or any revision to speak of. I + had tried and tried, but without success. Then suddenly + everything cleared up. To myself, the writing of it was an + illumination. I did not write it laboriously and with + calculation or because I wanted to write a book and be an + author. I wrote it because problems that had been troubling + me suddenly cleared up and because writing down the result + was to me the natural way of getting everything straight in + my own mind."</p> + + <p>The book was written not away in the peace of the country, + nor in the comparative quiet of a certain sunny little + sitting-room I know of, looking on to a leafy back garden in + Kensington, where Donald often sat and smoked and wrote, but in + a little flat in a dull tenement house in a grey street in + Bermondsey, where I remember visiting him with a cousin of + his.</p> + + <p>Here the Student lived like a lord—for Bermondsey! For + he possessed two <span class="pagenum"><a name="page26" + id="page26"></a>[pg 26]</span> flats, one for his + "butler"—a sick-looking young man in list slippers, + and his wife and family—and the other for himself.</p> + + <p>The little sitting-room in which he entertained us was very + pleasant, with light walls, a bright table-cloth, a gleam of + something brass that had come from Ceylon, one or two gaily + painted dancing shields from Africa, and two barbaric looking + dolls, about a foot high, dressed chiefly in beads and paint, + that he had picked up in an Antananarivo shop in Madagascar. + They came in usefully when he was lecturing on Missions!</p> + + <p>His bedroom he did not want us to see. It struck cold and + appeared to be reeking with damp!</p> + + <p>The weather had been rather dull when we arrived, but + suddenly there was a glint of sunshine, and a grind-organ that + had wandered up the street started playing just opposite. Two + couple of children began to dance. A girl with a jug stopped + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page27" + id="page27"></a>[pg 27]</span> to watch them, and mothers + with babies came to their doors. A window was thrown open + opposite and a whole family of children leaned out to see + the fun.</p> + + <p>Bermondsey was gay, and after we had gone the "Student" + perpetuated the fact in a water-colour drawing which he sent to + his cousin afterwards.</p> + + <p>In the evening, however, the sounds would be more + discordant, also the Student was running a Boys' Club, taking + several Sunday services at the Mission, visiting some very sick + people, and attending to a multifarious list of duties which + left me breathless when I saw it, knowing too how many casual + appeals always came to him and that he never was known to + refuse a helping hand to any one! Nevertheless it was there, + and in six weeks, that the <i>Lord of All Good Life</i> was + written!</p> + + <p>"Then came the war," and the Student shall tell us in his + own words what it meant to him. Writing still to Tom Allen, who + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page28" + id="page28"></a>[pg 28]</span> had also enlisted, and + afterwards also gave his life in the war, he says:</p> + + <p>"For myself the war was, in a sense, a heaven-sent + opportunity. Ever since I left Leeds I have been trying to + follow out the theory that the proper subject of study for the + theologian was man, and had increasingly been made to feel that + nothing but violent measures could overcome my own shyness + sufficiently to enable me to study outside my own class. + Enlistment had always appealed to me as one of the few feasible + methods of ensuring the desired results....</p> + + <p>"I was interested to hear that you found the —— + so illuminating as regards human potentialities for bestiality. + I think that I plumbed the depths between sixteen and a half + and twenty-two. I have learned nothing more since then about + bestiality. In fact I am hardened, and, I am afraid, take it + for granted. Since then I have been discovering human + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page29" + id="page29"></a>[pg 29]</span> goodness, which is far more + satisfactory. And oh, I have found it! In Bermondsey, in the + stinking hold of the <i>Zieten</i>, in the wide, thirsty + desert of Western Australia, and in the ranks of the 7th + Battalion of the Rifle Brigade. I enlisted very largely to + find out how far I really believed in the brotherhood of man + when it comes to the point—and I do believe in it more + and more."</p> + + <p>Donald Hankey enlisted in August, 1914, and after a period + of training, part of which was certainly the happiest time of + his life, he went to the front in May, 1915, coming home + wounded in August, when he wrote for the <i>Spectator</i> most + of the articles that were published anonymously the following + spring under the title of <i>A Student in Arms</i>. Before he + left hospital he received a commission in his old regiment, the + R.G.A., but still finding himself with no love for big guns, he + transferred to his eldest brother's regiment, the Royal + Warwickshire, hoping that by doing so he might get back to the + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page30" + id="page30"></a>[pg 30]</span> front the sooner. He did not, + however, leave until May, 1916, after he had written his + contribution to <i>Faith or Fear</i>.</p> + + <p>Most of the numbers of the present volume were written in or + near the trenches, and a fellow-officer gave his sister an + interesting description of how it was done. "Your brother," + said he, "will sit down in a corner of a trench, with his pipe, + and write an article for the <i>Spectator</i>, or make funny + sketches for his nephews and nieces, when none of the rest of + us could concentrate sufficiently even to write a letter."</p> + + <p>On October 6th, Donald Hankey wrote home: "We shall probably + be fighting by the time you get this letter, but one has a far + better chance of getting through now than in July. I shall be + very glad if we do have a scrap, as we have been resting quite + long enough. Of course one always has to face possibilities on + such occasions; but we have faced them in advance, haven't + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page31" + id="page31"></a>[pg 31]</span> we? I believe with all my + soul that whatever will be, will be for the best. As I said + before, I should hate to slide meanly into winter without a + scrap.... I have a top-hole platoon—nearly all young, + and nearly all have been out here eighteen + months—thoroughly good sporting fellows; so if I don't + do well it will be my fault."</p> + + <p>Six days after this the Student knelt down for a few seconds + with his men—we have it on the testimony of one of + them—and he told them a little of what was before them: + "If wounded, 'Blighty'; if killed, the Resurrection." Then + "over the top." He was last seen alive rallying his men, who + had wavered for a moment under the heavy machine gun and rifle + fire. He carried the waverers along with him, and was found + that night close to the trench, the winning of which had cost + him his life, with his platoon sergeant and a few of his men by + his side.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page32" + id="page32"></a>[pg 32]</span> + + <p>What wonder that his cousin and best friend, when asked a + short time previously what he was like, had replied, "He is the + most beautiful thing that ever + happened."</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page33" + id="page33"></a>[pg 33]</span> + <hr /> + <a name="foreword" + id="foreword"></a> + + <h2>AUTHOR'S FOREWORD</h2> + + <h2 class="sc">(Being Extracts from Letters to his Sister)</h2> + + <p>"I am very much wondering whether you will receive 'A Diary' + in four parts. It is very much founded on fact, though altered + in parts. You will probably be surprised at a certain change in + tone, but remember that my previous articles were written in + England, while this was written on the spot.... The Diary was + not my diary, though it was so very nearly what mine might have + been that it is difficult to say what is fiction and what is + actuality in it. With regard to the 'conversation' during the + bombardment, it represents in its totality what I believe the + ordinary soldier feels. He loathes the war, and the + grandiloquent <span class="pagenum"><a name="page34" + id="page34"></a>[pg 34]</span> speeches of politicians + irritate him by their failure to realize how loathesome war + is. At the same time he knows he has got to go through with + it, and only longs for the chance to hurry up. In the + 'Diary,' again, I quite deliberately emphasized the + depression of the man who thought he was being left out, and + the mental effect of the clearing-up process because I + thought that it would be a good thing for people to realize + this side, and also partly because I felt that in previous + articles I had glossed over it too much.... If I get a + chance of publishing another book I shall certainly include + them."</p> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p><i>Note</i>.—Not only "A Diary" and "Imaginary + Conversations," but every paper in the present collection, + with the exception of "The Wisdom," "The Potentate," and "A + Passing in June," were written in France in 1916, and many + of them actually in the trenches. The rough sketch for "A + Passing in June" was written in France in 1915, but was + completed when the author was in hospital at home.</p> + + <p>"The Potentate" was written for the original volume of + <i>A Student in Arms</i>, but was not published on account + of its likeness in subject to Barrie's play, <i>Der + Tag</i>, which, however, Donald had not seen or even heard + of when he wrote his own.</p> + </blockquote><span class="pagenum"><a name="page37" + id="page37"></a>[pg 37]</span> + <hr /> + <a name="I" + id="I"></a> + + <h2>I</h2> + + <h3>THE POTENTATE<a id="footnotetag1" + name="footnotetag1"></a><a href="#footnote1"><sup>1</sup></a></h3> + + <blockquote> + <p>SCENE. <i>A tent (interior). The</i> POTENTATE <i>is + sitting at a table listening to his</i> COURT CHAPLAIN.</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>COURT CHAPLAIN (<i>concluding his remarks</i>). Where + can we look for the Kingdom of God, Sire, if not among the + German people? Consider your foes. The English are + Pharisees, hypocrites. Woe to them, saith the Lord. The + French are atheists. The Belgians are ignorant and + priest-ridden. The Russians are sunk in mediæval + superstition. As for the Italians, half are atheists and + the other half idolators. Only in Germany do you find a + reasonable and progressive faith, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page38" + id="page38"></a>[pg 38]</span> devoid of superstition, + abreast of scientific thought, and of the highest + ethical value. Germany then, Sire, is the Kingdom of God + on earth. The Germans are the chosen people, the heirs + of the promise, and let their enemies be scattered!</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>The</i> POTENTATE <i>rises, leans forward with his + hands on the table, and an expression of extreme + gratification, while the</i> CHAPLAIN <i>stands with a smug + and respectful smile on his white face.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>POTENTATE. You are right, my dear Clericus, abundantly + right. Very well put indeed! Yes, Germany is the Kingdom of + God, and I (<i>drawing himself up to his full + height</i>)—I am Germany! The strength of the Lord is + in my right arm, and He teaches it terrible things for the + unbeliever and the hypocrite. With God I conquer! + Good-night, my dear Clericus, good-night.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(CLERICUS <i>departs with a low bow, and</i> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page39" + id="page39"></a>[pg 39]</span> <i>the</i> POTENTATE + <i>sinks into his chair with a gesture of fatigue. Enter + a</i> GENERAL <i>of the Headquarters Staff with + telegrams.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>POTENTATE (<i>brightening</i>). Ha, my dear General, you + have news?</p> + + <p>GENERAL. Excellent news, Sire! On the Eastern front the + Russians continue to give way. In the West a French attack + has been repulsed with heavy loss, and our gallant + Prussians have driven the British out of half a mile of + trenches.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>At this last bit of news the</i> POTENTATE + <i>springs to his feet with a look of joy.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>POTENTATE. A sign! My God, a sign! Pardon, General, I + was thinking of a conversation that I have just had with + Dr. Clericus. Come now, show me where these trenches + are.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>The</i> GENERAL <i>produces a map, over which they + pore together.</i>)</p> + </blockquote><span class="pagenum"><a name="page40" + id="page40"></a>[pg 40]</span> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>POTENTATE. Excellent, excellent! A most valuable + capture. Our losses were ...?</p> + + <p>GENERAL. Slight, Sire.</p> + + <p>POTENTATE. Better and better. I cannot afford to lose my + good Prussians, my heroic, my invincible Prussians. To what + do you attribute the success?</p> + + <p>GENERAL. The success was due in a large measure to the + perfection of the apparatus suggested a week ago by your + Majesty's scientific adviser.</p> + + <p>POTENTATE (<i>blanching a little</i>). Ah, then it was + not a charge, eh?</p> + + <p>GENERAL. The charge followed, Sire; but the work was + already done. The defenders of the trench were already dead + or dying before our heroes reached it.</p> + + <p>POTENTATE (<i>sinking back in his chair with his finger + to his lips, and a slight frown</i>). Thank you, General, + your news is of the best. I will detain you no longer. + (<i>The</i> <span class="pagenum"><a name="page41" + id="page41"></a>[pg 41]</span> GENERAL <i>bows.</i>) + Stay! Has a counterattack been launched yet?</p> + + <p>GENERAL. Not yet, Sire. No doubt one will be attempted + to-night. Our men are prepared.</p> + + <p>POTENTATE. Good. Bring me fresh news as soon as it + arrives. Good-night, General, good-night.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>Exit</i> GENERAL.)</p> + + <p>(<i>The</i> POTENTATE <i>sits musing for a considerable + time. A slight cough is heard, and he raises his + head.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>POTENTATE (<i>slowly</i>). Enter!</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>Enter a tall figure in a long black academic gown + and black clothes.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>POTENTATE (<i>with an attempt at gaiety</i>). Come in, + my dear Sage, come in. You are welcome. (<i>A little + anxiously</i>) You have the crystal? Good. How is the + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page42" + id="page42"></a>[pg 42]</span> Master? Still busy + devising new means of victory?</p> + + <p>THE SAGE. My master's poor skill is always at your + service, Sire. You have only to command.</p> + + <p>POTENTATE. I know it. Now let me have the crystal. I + would see if possible the scene of to-day's victory in + Flanders.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>The</i> SAGE <i>hands him the crystal with a low + bow. The</i> POTENTATE <i>seizes it eagerly, and gazes into + it. A pause.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>POTENTATE (<i>raising his head suddenly</i>). Horrible, + horrible!</p> + + <p>SAGE. Sire?</p> + + <p>POTENTATE. This last invention of your master's is + inhuman!</p> + + <p>SAGE. War is inhuman, Sire. Where a speedy end is + desired, is it not kindest to be cruel?</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>The</i> POTENTATE <i>gazes again into the + crystal,</i> <span class="pagenum"><a name="page43" + id="page43"></a>[pg 43]</span> <i>but starts up + immediately with a gasp of horror.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>POTENTATE. Again the same vision! Always after my + victories the vision of the Crucified, with the stern + reproachful eyes! Am I not the Lord's appointed instrument? + What means it? Tell your master that I will have no more of + his inventions. They are too diabolical! They imperil my + cause!</p> + + <p>SAGE (<i>pointing to the crystal</i>). Look again, + Sire.</p> + + <p>POTENTATE (<i>gazing into the crystal, and in a low and + agonized voice</i>). Time with his scythe raised menacingly + against me. (<i>Abruptly</i>) This is a trickery, Sirrah! + Have a care! But I will not be tricked. Are my troops not + brave? Are they not invincible? Can they not win by their + proven valour? Who can stand against them, for the strength + of the Lord is in their right hands?</p> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page44" + id="page44"></a>[pg 44]</span> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>Enter</i> GENERAL <i>hastily</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>GENERAL. Sire.... (<i>He starts, and stops + short</i>).</p> + + <p>POTENTATE (<i>testily</i>). Go on, go on. What is + it?</p> + + <p>GENERAL. Sire, the English counterattack has for the + moment succeeded. Infuriated by their defeat they fought so + that no man could resist them. They have regained the + trenches they had lost, but we hope to attack again + to-morrow, when—</p> + + <p>POTENTATE. Enough! Leave me!</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>The</i> GENERAL <i>withdraws, and the</i> POTENTATE + <i>leans forward with his head on his hands.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>SAGE (<i>commiseratingly</i>). Apparently other troops + are brave besides your own, Sire!</p> + + <p>POTENTATE (<i>brokenly</i>). The cowards! + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page45" + id="page45"></a>[pg 45]</span> The cowards! Five nations + against three! Alas, my poor Prussians!</p> + + <p>SAGE. If you will look once more into the crystal, Sire, + I think you will see something that will interest you.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>The</i> POTENTATE <i>takes the crystal again, but + without confidence.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>POTENTATE (<i>in a slow recitative</i>). A stricken + field by night. The dead lie everywhere, German and + English, side by side. But all are not dead. Some are but + wounded. They help one another. Prussian and Briton help + one another, with painful smiles on their white faces. + What? Have they forgotten their hate? My Prussians! Can you + so soon forget? I mourn for you! But who are these? White + figures, vague, elusive! See, they seem to come down from + above. They are carrying away the souls of my Prussians! + And of the accursed English! + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page46" + id="page46"></a>[pg 46]</span> What! One Paradise for + both! Impossible! And who is that watching? He who with + a smile so loving, and yet so stern ... Ah!... My God + ... no!... not I....</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>The</i> POTENTATE <i>rises with a strangled cry, and + sinks into his chair a nerveless wreck. The</i> SAGE + <i>watches coolly, with a cynical smile.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>SAGE. So, Sire, you must find room for the English in + that kingdom of yours and God's! Perchance it is more + catholic than we had thought!</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>The</i> POTENTATE <i>groans.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>SAGE. Sire, you have seen some truth to-night. Is + courage, is God, all on your side? Is Time on your side? + Shall I go back to my master and tell him that you need no + more of his inventions?</p> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page47" + id="page47"></a>[pg 47]</span> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>He pauses, and glances at the</i> POTENTATE <i>with + a look of contempt, and then turns to go. The</i> POTENTATE + <i>looks round him with a ghastly stare.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>POTENTATE (<i>feebly</i>). No ... the Crucified ... Time + ... Stay, stay!</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>The</i> SAGE <i>turns with a gesture of + triumph.</i>)</p> + + <p>(<i>Curtain.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <blockquote class="footnote"> + <a id="footnote1" + name="footnote1"></a><b>Footnote 1:</b> + <a href="#footnotetag1">(return)</a> + + <p>It is necessary to state that <i>The Potentate</i> was + written before Sir James Barrie's play <i>Der Tag</i> + appeared.</p> + </blockquote><span class="pagenum"><a name="page51" + id="page51"></a>[pg 51]</span> + <hr /> + <a name="II" + id="II"></a> + + <h2>II</h2> + + <h3>THE BAD SIDE OF MILITARY SERVICE</h3> + + <p>A Padre who has earned the right to talk about the "average + Tommy," writes to me that <i>A Student in Arms</i> gives a very + one-sided picture of him. While cordially admitting his + unselfishness, his good comradeship, his patience, and his + pluck, my friend challenges me to deny that military, and + especially active, service often has a brutalizing effect on + the soldier, weakening his moral fibres, and causing him to + sink to a low animal level.</p> + + <p>Those who are in the habit of reading between the lines + will, I think, often have seen the shadow of this darker side + of army life on the pages of <i>A Student in Arms</i>; but I + have not written of it specifically + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page52" + id="page52"></a>[pg 52]</span> for several reasons. It will + suffice if I mention two. First, I was writing mainly of the + private and the N.C.O. Rightly or wrongly, I imagined that + those for whom I was writing were in the habit of taking for + granted this darker side of life in the ranks. I imagined + that they thought of the "lower classes" as being naturally + coarser and more animal than the "upper classes." I wanted + then, and I want now, to contradict that belief with all the + vehemence of which I am capable. Officers and men + necessarily develop different qualities, different forms of + expression, different mental attitudes. But I am confident + that I speak the truth when I say that essentially, and in + the eyes of God there is nothing to choose between them.</p> + + <p>If I must write of the brutalizing effect of war on the + soldier, let it be clearly understood that I am speaking, not + of officers only, nor of privates only, but of + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page53" + id="page53"></a>[pg 53]</span> fighting men of every class + and rank. As a matter of fact I have never, whether before + or during the war, belonged to a mess where the tone was + cleaner or more wholesome than it was in the Sergeants' Mess + of my old battalion.</p> + + <p>My second reason for not writing about the bad side of Army + life was that mere condemnation is so futile. I have listened + to countless sermons in which the "lusts of the flesh" were + denounced, and have known for certain that their power for good + was <i>nil</i>. If I write about it now, it is only because I + hope that I may be able to make clearer the causes and + processes of such moral deterioration as exists, and thus to + help those who are trying to combat it, to do so with greater + understanding and sympathy.</p> + + <p>Even in England most officers, and all privates, are cut off + from their womenfolk. Mothers, sisters, wives, and sweethearts + are inaccessible. All have a certain amount of leisure, and + very little to do with it. + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page54" + id="page54"></a>[pg 54]</span> All are physically fit and + mentally rather unoccupied. All are living under an + unnatural discipline from which, when the last parade of the + day is over, there is a natural reaction. Finally, wherever + there are troops, and especially in war time, there are + "bad" women and weak women. The result is inevitable. A + certain number of both officers and men "go wrong."</p> + + <p>Fifteen months ago I was a private quartered in a camp near + Aldershot. After tea it began to get dark. The tent was damp, + gloomy, and cold. The Y.M.C.A. tent and the Canteen tent were + crowded. One wandered off to the town. The various soldiers' + clubs were filled and overflowing. The bars required more cash + than one possessed. The result was that one spent a large part + of one's evenings wandering aimlessly about the streets. + Fortunately I discovered an upper room in a Wesleyan soldiers' + home, where there was generally quiet, and an empty chair. + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page55" + id="page55"></a>[pg 55]</span> I shall always be grateful to + that "home," for the many hours which I whiled away there + with a book and a pipe. But most of us spent a great deal of + our leisure, bored and impecunious, "on the streets"; and if + a fellow ran up against "a bit of skirt," he was generally + just in the mood to follow it wherever it might lead. The + moral of this is, double your subscriptions to the Y.M.C.A., + Church huts, soldiers' clubs, or whatever organization you + fancy! You will be helping to combat vice in the only + sensible way.</p> + + <p>I don't suppose that the officers were much better off than + we were. Their tents may have been a little lighter and less + crowded than ours. They had a late dinner to occupy part of the + long evening. They had more money to spend, and perhaps more to + occupy their minds. But I fancy that as great a proportion of + them as of us took the false step; and though perhaps when they + compared notes their <span class="pagenum"><a name="page56" + id="page56"></a>[pg 56]</span> language may have been less + blunt than ours, I am not sure that, for this very reason, + it may not have been more poisonous. But mind you, we did + not all go wrong, by any means, though I believe that some + fellows did, both officers and men, who would not have done + so if they had stayed at home with their mothers, sisters, + sweethearts, or wives.</p> + + <p>So much for the Army at home. When we cross the Channel + every feature is a hundred times intensified. Consider the + fighting man in the trenches—and I am still speaking of + both officers and men—the most ordinary refinements of + life are conspicuously absent. There is no water to wash in. + Vermin abound, sleeping and eating accommodations are frankly + disgusting. One is obliged for the time to live like a pig. + Added to this one is all the time in a state of nervous + tension. One gets very little sleep. Every night has its + anxieties and responsibilities. Danger + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page57" + id="page57"></a>[pg 57]</span> or death may come at any + moment. So for a week or a fortnight or a month, as the case + may be. Then comes the return to billets, to comparative + safety and comfort—the latter nothing to boast about + though! Tension is relaxed. There is an inevitable reaction. + Officers and men alike determine to "gather rosebuds" while + they may. Their bodies are fit, their wills are relaxed. If + they are built that way, and an opportunity offers, they + will "satisfy the lusts of the flesh."</p> + + <p>When there is real fighting to be done the dangers of the + after-reaction are intensified. You who sit at home and read of + glorious bayonet charges do not realize what it means to the + man behind the bayonet. You don't realize the repugnance for + the first thrust—a repugnance which has got to be + overcome. You don't realize the change that comes over a man + when his bayonet is wet with the blood of his first enemy. He + "sees red." The primitive + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page58" + id="page58"></a>[pg 58]</span> "blood-lust," kept under all + his life by the laws and principles of peaceful society, + surges through his being, transforming him, maddening him + with the desire to kill, kill, kill! Ask any one who has + been through it if this is not true. And that letting loose + of a primitive lust is not going to be without its effect on + a man's character.</p> + + <p>At the same time, of course, not all of us become animals + out here. There are other influences at work. Caring for the + wounded, burying the mutilated dead, cause one to hate war, and + to value ten times more the ways of peace. Many are saved from + sinking in the scale, by a love of home which is able to bridge + the gulf which separates them from their beloved. The letters + of my platoon are largely love letters—often the love + letters of married men to their wives.</p> + + <p>There is immorality in the Army; when there is opportunity + immorality is rife. Possibly there is more abroad than there is + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page59" + id="page59"></a>[pg 59]</span> at home. If so it is because + there is far greater temptation. Nevertheless, I fancy that + my correspondent, who is a padre, a don, and at least the + beginning of a saint, is perhaps inclined to exaggerate the + extent of the evil in the Army as compared with civil life. + I imagine that very few padres, especially if they are dons, + and most of all if they are saints, realize that in civil + life as in Army life, the average man is immoral, both in + thought and deed. Let us be frank about this. What a doctor + might call the "appetites" and a padre the "lusts" of the + body, hold dominion over the average man, whether civilian + or soldier, unless they are counteracted by a stronger + power. The only men who are pure are those who are absorbed + in some pursuit, or possessed by a great love; be it the + love of clean, wholesome life which is religion, or the love + of a noble man which is hero-worship, or the love of a true + woman. These are the four powers + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page60" + id="page60"></a>[pg 60]</span> which are stronger than "the + flesh"—the zest of a quest, religion, hero-worship, + and the love of a good woman. If a man is not possessed by + one of these he will be immoral.</p> + + <p>Probably most men are immoral. The conditions of military, + and especially of active service merely intensify the + temptation. Unless a soldier is wholly devoted to the cause, or + powerfully affected by religion, or by hero-worship, or by pure + love, he is immoral.</p> + + <p>Perhaps most men are immoral if they get the chance. Most + soldiers are immoral if they get the chance. But those who are + trying to help the soldier can do so with a good heart if they + realize that in him they have a foundation on which to build. + Already he is half a hero-worshipper. Already he half believes + in the beauty of sacrifice and in the life immortal. Already he + is predisposed to value exceedingly all that savours of clean, + wholesome <span class="pagenum"><a name="page61" + id="page61"></a>[pg 61]</span> home life. On that foundation + it should be possible to build a strong idealism which shall + prevail against the flesh. And this is my last word—it + is by building up, and not by casting down, that the soldier + can be saved from degradation. The devil that possesses so + many can only be cast out by an angel that is stronger than + he.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page65" + id="page65"></a>[pg 65]</span> + <hr /> + <a name="III" + id="III"></a> + + <h2>III</h2> + + <h3>THE GOOD SIDE OF "MILITARISM"</h3> + + <p>I had a letter the other day from an Oxford friend. In it + was this phrase: "I loathe militarism in all its forms." + Somehow it took me back quite suddenly to the days before the + war, to ideas that I had almost completely forgotten. I suppose + that in those days the great feature of those of us who tried + to be "in the forefront of modern thought" was their riotous + egotism, their anarchical insistence on the claims of the + individual at the expense even of law, order, society, and + convention. "Self-realization" we considered to be the primary + duty of every man and woman.</p> + + <p>The wife who left her husband, children, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page66" + id="page66"></a>[pg 66]</span> and home because of her + passion for another man was a heroine, braving the + hypocritical judgments of society to assert the claims of + the individual soul. The woman who refused to abandon all + for love's sake, was not only a coward but a criminal, + guilty of the deadly sin of sacrificing her soul, committing + it to a prison where it would languish and never blossom to + its full perfection. The man who was bound to uncongenial + drudgery by the chains of an early marriage or aged parents + dependent on him, was the victim of a tragedy which drew + tears from our eyes. The woman who neglected her home + because she needed a "wider sphere" in which to develop her + personality was a champion of women's rights, a pioneer of + enlightenment. And, on the other hand, the people who went + on making the best of uncongenial drudgery, or in any way + subjected their individualities to what old-fashioned people + called <span class="pagenum"><a name="page67" + id="page67"></a>[pg 67]</span> duty, were in our eyes + contemptible poltroons.</p> + + <p>It was the same in politics and religion. To be loyal to a + party or obedient to a Church was to stand self-confessed a + fool or a hypocrite. Self-realization, that was in our eyes the + whole duty of man.</p> + + <p>And then I thought of what I had seen only a few days + before. First, of battalions of men marching in the darkness, + steadily and in step, towards the roar of the guns; destined in + the next twelve hours to charge as one man, without hesitation + or doubt, through barrages of cruel shell and storms of + murderous bullets. Then, the following afternoon, of a handful + of men, all that was left of about three battalions after ten + hours of fighting, a handful of men exhausted, parched, + strained, holding on with grim determination to the last bit of + German trench, until they should receive the order to + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page68" + id="page68"></a>[pg 68]</span> retire. And lastly, on the + days and nights following, of the constant streams of + wounded and dead being carried down the trench; of the + unceasing search that for three or four days was never + fruitless.</p> + + <p>Self-realization! How far we have travelled from the ideals + of those pre-war days. And as I thought things over I wondered + at how faint a response that phrase, "I loathe militarism in + all its forms," found in my own mind.</p> + + <p>Before the war I too hated "militarism." I despised soldiers + as men who had sold their birthright for a mess of pottage. The + sight of the Guards drilling in Wellington Barracks, moving as + one man to the command of their drill instructor, stirred me to + bitter mirth. They were not men but manikins. When I first + enlisted, and for many months afterwards, the "mummeries of + military discipline," the saluting, the meticulous uniformity, + the rigid suppression of individual + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page69" + id="page69"></a>[pg 69]</span> exuberance, chafed and + infuriated me. I compared it to a ritualistic religion, a + religion of authority only, which depended not on individual + assent but on tradition for its sanctions. I loathed + militarism in all its forms. Now ... well, I am inclined to + reconsider my judgment. Seeing the end of military + discipline, has shown me something of its ethical + meaning—more than that, of its spiritual meaning.</p> + + <p>For though the part of the "great push" that it fell to my + lot to see was not a successful part, it was none the less a + triumph—a spiritual triumph. From the accounts of the + ordinary war correspondent I think one hardly realizes how + great a spiritual triumph it was. For the war correspondent + only sees the outside, and can only describe the outside of + things. We who are in the Army, who know the men as + individuals, who have talked with them, joked with them, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page70" + id="page70"></a>[pg 70]</span> censored their letters, + worked with them, lived with them we see below the + surface.</p> + + <p>The war correspondent sees the faces of the men as they + march towards the Valley of the Shadow, sees the steadiness of + eye and mouth, hears the cheery jest. He sees them advance into + the Valley without flinching. He sees some of them return, + tired, dirty, strained, but still with a quip for the + passer-by. He gives us a picture of men without nerves, without + sensitiveness, without imagination, schooled to face death as + they would face rain or any trivial incident of everyday life. + The "Tommy" of the war correspondent is not a human being, but + a lay figure with a gift for repartee, little more than the + manikin that we thought him in those far-off days before the + war, when we watched him drilling on the barrack square. We + soldiers know better. We know that each one of those men is an + individual, full of human affections, many + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page71" + id="page71"></a>[pg 71]</span> of them writing tender + letters home every week, each one longing with all his soul + for the end of this hateful business of war which divides + him from all that he loves best in life. We know that every + one of these men has a healthy individual's repugnance to + being maimed, and a human shrinking from hurt and from the + Valley of the Shadow of Death.</p> + + <p>The knowledge of all this does not do away with the even + tread of the troops as they pass, the steady eye and mouth, the + cheery jest; but it makes these a hundred times more + significant. For we know that what these things signify is not + lack of human affection, or weakness, or want of imagination, + but something superimposed on these, to which they are wholly + subordinated. Over and above the individuality of each man, his + personal desires and fears and hopes, there is the corporate + personality of the soldier which knows no fear and only one + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page72" + id="page72"></a>[pg 72]</span> ambition—to defeat the + enemy, and so to further the righteous cause for which he is + fighting. In each of those men there is this dual + personality: the ordinary human ego that hates danger and + shrinks from hurt and death, that longs for home, and would + welcome the end of the war on any terms; and also the + stronger personality of the soldier who can tolerate but one + end to this war, cost what that may—the victory of + liberty and justice, and the utter abasement of brute + force.</p> + + <p>And when one looks back over the months of training that the + soldier has had, one recognizes how every feature of it, though + at the time it often seemed trivial and senseless and + irritating, was in reality directed to this end. For from the + moment that a man becomes a soldier his dual personality + begins. Henceforth he is both a man and a soldier. Before his + training is complete the order must + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page73" + id="page73"></a>[pg 73]</span> be reversed, and he must be a + soldier and a man. As a soldier he must obey and salute + those whom, as a man, he very likely dislikes and despises. + In his conduct he no longer only has to consider his + reputation as a man, but still more his honour as a soldier. + In all the conditions of his life, his dress, appearance, + food, drink, accommodation, and work, his individual + preferences count for nothing, his efficiency as a soldier + counts for everything. At first he "hates" this, and "can't + see the point of" that. But by the time his training is + complete he has realized that whether he hates a thing or + not, sees the point of a thing or not, is a matter of the + uttermost unimportance. If he is wise, he keeps his likes + and dislikes to himself.</p> + + <p>All through his training he is learning the unimportance of + his individuality, realizing that in a national, a world + crisis, it counts for nothing. On the other + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page74" + id="page74"></a>[pg 74]</span> hand, he is equally learning + that as a unit in a fighting force his every action is of + the utmost importance. The humility which the Army + inculcates is not an abject self-depreciation that leads to + loss of self-respect and effort. Substituted for the old + individualism is a new self-consciousness. The man has + become humble, but in proportion the soldier has become + exceeding proud. The old personal whims and ambitions give + place to a corporate ambition and purpose, and this unity of + will is symbolized in action by the simultaneous exactitude + of drill, and in dress by the rigid identity of uniform. + Anything which calls attention to the individual, whether in + drill or in dress, is a crime, because it is essential that + the soldier's individuality should be wholly subordinated to + the corporate personality of the regiment.</p> + + <p>As I said before, the personal humility of the soldier has + nothing in it of abject self-depreciation or slackness. On the + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page75" + id="page75"></a>[pg 75]</span> contrary, every detail of his + appearance, and every most trivial feature of his duty + assumes an immense significance. Slackness in his dress and + negligence in his work are military crimes. In a good + regiment the soldier is striving after perfection all the + time.</p> + + <p>And it is when he comes to the supreme test of battle that + the fruits of his training appear. The good soldier has learnt + the hardest lesson of all—the lesson of + self-subordination to a higher and bigger personality. He has + learnt to sacrifice everything which belongs to him + individually to a cause that is far greater than any personal + ambitions of his own can ever be. He has learnt to do this so + thoroughly that he knows no fear—for fear is personal. He + has learnt to "hate" father and mother and life itself for the + sake of—though he may not call it that—the Kingdom + of God on earth.</p> + + <p>It is a far cry from the old days when + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page76" + id="page76"></a>[pg 76]</span> one talked of + self-realization, isn't it? I make no claim to be a good + soldier; but I think that perhaps I may be beginning to be + one; for if I am asked now whether I "loathe militarism in + all its forms," I think that "the answer is in the + negative," I will even go farther, and say that I hope that + some of the discipline and self-subordination that have + availed to send men calmly to their death in war, will + survive in the days of peace, and make of those who are left + better citizens, better workmen, better servants of the + State, better Church + men.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page79" + id="page79"></a>[pg 79]</span> + <hr /> + <a name="IV" + id="IV"></a> + + <h2>IV</h2> + + <h3>A MONTH'S REFLECTIONS</h3> + + <p>Timothy and I are on detachment. We are billeted with M. le + Curé, and we mess at the schoolmaster's. Hence we are on good + terms with all parties, for of course a good schoolmaster + shrugs his shoulders at a priest, and a good priest returns the + compliment. In war time, however, the hatchet seems to be + buried pretty deep. We have not seen it sticking out + anywhere.</p> + + <p>M. le Curé has a beautiful rose garden, a cask of excellent + cider, a passable Sauterne, and a charming pony. He is a good + fellow, I should think, though without much education. His + house—or what I have seen of it—is the exact + opposite of what an English country vicar's would be. The + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page80" + id="page80"></a>[pg 80]</span> only sitting-room that I have + seen is as neat as an old maid's. There is a polished floor, + an oval polished table on which repose four large albums at + regular intervals, each on its own little mat. There is a + mantelpiece with gilt candlesticks and an ornate clock under + a glass dome. Round the walls are photographs of brother + clergy, the place of honour being assigned to a stout + <i>Chanoine</i>. The chairs are stiff and uncomfortable. One + of them, which is more imposing and uncomfortable than the + rest, is obviously for the Bishop when he comes. There are + no papers, no books, no ash-trays, no confusion. I have + never seen M. le Curé sit there. I fancy he lives in the + kitchen and in his garden.</p> + + <p>Timothy sleeps in the bed which the Bishop uses, and is told + he ought to feel <i>très saint</i>.</p> + + <p>The wife of the schoolmaster cooks for us. She is an + excellent soul. We give her full marks. She has a smile and an + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page81" + id="page81"></a>[pg 81]</span> omelette for every emergency, + and waves aside all Timothy's vagaries with "Ah, monsieur, + la jeunesse!" I am not sure that Timothy quite likes it!</p> + + <p>Timothy is immense. He is that rarest of birds, a wholly + delightful egotist. He is the sun, but we all bask and shine + with reflected glory. The men are splendid, because they are + his men. I am a great success because I am his subaltern. + Fortunately we all have a sense of humour and so are highly + pleased with ourselves and each other. After all, if one is a + Captain at twenty-two ...! But he's a good soldier, too, and we + all believe in him. Timothy's all right, in spite of <i>la + jeunesse</i>!</p> + <hr class="short" /> + + <p>Rain! The men are fifteen in a tent in a sea of mud. Poor + beggars! They are having a thin time. Working parties in the + trenches day and night; every one soaked to the skin; and then + a return <span class="pagenum"><a name="page82" + id="page82"></a>[pg 82]</span> to a damp, crowded, muddy + tent. No pay, no smokes, and yet they are wonderfully + cheery, and all think that the "Push" is going to end the + war. I wish I thought so!</p> + <hr class="short" /> + + <p>These rats are the limit! The dugout swarms with them. Last + night they ate half my biscuits and a good part of Timothy's + clean socks, and whenever I began to get to sleep one of them + would run across my face, or some other sensitive part of my + anatomy, and wake me up. I shall leave the candle alight + to-night, to see if that keeps them away.</p> + <hr class="short" /> + + <p>Last night the rats tried to eat the candle, and very nearly + set me on fire. If it were not for the rain I would try the + firestep.</p> + + <p>The men are having a rotten time again—no proper + shelter from the rain, and short rations, to say nothing of + remarkably good practice by the Boche artillery. + C——, <span class="pagenum"><a name="page83" + id="page83"></a>[pg 83]</span> just out from England, got + scuppered this afternoon. A good boy—made his + communion just before we came in. I suppose he didn't know + much about it, and that he is really better off now; but at + the same time it makes one angry.</p> + <hr class="short" /> + + <p>The rain has lifted, so last night I tried the firestep, and + got a good sleep. The absurd thing was that I couldn't wake up + properly. I came on duty at midnight, was roused, got to my + feet, and started to walk along the trench. And then the + Nameless Terror, that lurks in dark corners when one is a small + boy, gripped me. I was frightened of the dark, filled with a + sense of impending disaster! It took about ten minutes to wake + properly and shake it off. I must try to get more sleep + somehow; but it is jolly difficult.</p> + <hr class="short" /> + + <p>The great bombardment has begun, the long-promised strafing + of the Boche. According <span class="pagenum"><a name="page84" + id="page84"></a>[pg 84]</span> to the gunners they will all + be dead, buried, or dazed when the time comes for us to go + over the top. I doubt it! If they have enough deep dug-outs + I don't fancy that the bombardment will worry them very + much.</p> + <hr class="short" /> + + <p>Now we are at rest for a day or two before the Push. I am to + be left out—in charge of carriers. Damn! I might as well + be A.S.C. I see myself counting ration bags while the battalion + is charging with fixed bayonets; and in the evening sending up + parties of weary laden carriers over shell-swept areas, while I + myself stay behind at the Dump. Damn! Damn!! Damn!!! Then I + shall receive ironical congratulations on my "cushy" job.</p> + <hr class="short" /> + + <p>Have just seen the battalion off. I don't start for another + five hours. I loathe war. It is futile, idiotic. I would gladly + be out of the Army to-morrow. Glory is a + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page85" + id="page85"></a>[pg 85]</span> painted idol, honour a + phantasy, religion a delusion. We wallow in blood and + torture to please a creature of our imagination. We are no + better than South Sea Islanders.</p> + <hr class="short" /> + + <p>Just here the attack was a failure. When I got to the Dump I + found the battalion still there. By an irony of fate I was the + only officer of my company to set foot in the German lines. + After a day of idleness and depression I had to detail a party + to carry bombs at top speed to some relics of the leading + battalions, who were still clinging to the extremest corner of + the enemy's front line some distance to our left. Being fed up + with inaction, I took the party myself. It was a long way. The + trenches were choked with wounded and stragglers and troops who + had never been ordered to advance. In many places they were + broken down by shell-fire, in others they were waist-deep in + water. By dint of much shouting and shoving and cursing I + managed <span class="pagenum"><a name="page86" + id="page86"></a>[pg 86]</span> to get through with about ten + of my men, but had to leave the others to follow with a + sergeant.</p> + + <p>At last we sighted our objective, a cluster of chalk mounds + surrounded with broken wire, shell craters, corpses, wreathed + in smoke, dotted with men. I think we all ran across the ground + between our front line and our objective, though it must have + been more or less dead ground. Anyhow, only one man was hit. + When we got close the scene was absurdly like a conventional + battle picture—the sort of picture that one never + believes in for a minute. There was a wild mixture of + regiments—Jocks, Irishmen, Territorials, etc., etc. There + was no proper trench left. There were rifles, a machine gun, a + Lewis rifle, and bombs all going at the same time. There were + wounded men sitting in a kind of helpless stupor; there were + wounded trying to drag themselves back to our own lines; there + were the dead of whom no one took any notice. But the + prevailing <span class="pagenum"><a name="page87" + id="page87"></a>[pg 87]</span> note was one of utter + weariness coupled with dogged tenacity.</p> + + <p>Here and there were men who were self-conscious, wondering + what would become of themselves. I was one of them, and we were + none the better for it. Most of the fellows, though, had + forgotten themselves. They no longer flinched, or feared. They + had got beyond that. They were just set on clinging to that + mound and keeping the Huns at bay until their officer gave the + word to retire. Their spirit was the spirit of the oarsman, the + runner, or the footballer, who has strained himself to the + utmost, who if he stopped to wonder whether he could go on or + not would collapse; but who, because he does not stop to + wonder, goes on miraculously long after he should, by all the + laws of nature, have succumbed to sheer exhaustion.</p> + + <p>Having delivered my bombs into eager hands, I reported to + the officer who seemed to be in charge, and asked if I could do + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page88" + id="page88"></a>[pg 88]</span> anything. I must frankly + admit that my one hope was that he would not want me to + stay. He began to say how that morning he had reached his + objective, and how for lack of support on his flank, for + lack of bombs, for lack of men, he had been forced back; and + how for eight hours he had disputed every inch of ground + till now his men could only cling to these mounds with the + dumb mechanical tenacity of utter exhaustion. "You might go + to H.Q.," he said at last, "and tell them where I am, and + that I can't hold on without ammunition and a barrage."</p> + + <p>I am afraid that I went with joy on that errand. I did not + want to stay on those chalk mounds.</p> + <hr class="short" /> + + <p>I only saw a very little bit of the battle. Thank God it has + gone well elsewhere; but here we are where we started. Day and + night we have done nothing but bring in the wounded and the + dead. When one sees <span class="pagenum"><a name="page89" + id="page89"></a>[pg 89]</span> the dead, their limbs crushed + and mangled, their features distorted and blackened, one can + only have repulsion for war. It is easy to talk of glory and + heroism when one is away from it, when memory has softened + the gruesome details. But here, in the presence of the + mutilated and tortured dead, one can only feel the horror + and wickedness of war. Indeed it is an evil harvest, sown of + pride and arrogance and lust of power. Maybe through all + this evil and pain we shall be purged of many sins. God + grant it! If ever there were martyrs, some of these were + martyrs, facing death and torture as ghastly as any that + confronted the saints of old, and facing it with but little + of that fierce fanatical exaltation of faith that the early + Christians had to help them.</p> + + <p>For these were mostly quiet souls, loving their wives and + children and the little comforts of home life most of all, + little stirred by great emotions or passions. Yet they had + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page90" + id="page90"></a>[pg 90]</span> some love for liberty, some + faith in God,—not a high and flaming passion, but a + quiet insistent conviction. It was enough to send them out + to face martyrdom, though their lack of imagination left + them mercifully ignorant of the extremity of its terrors. It + was enough, when they saw their danger in its true + perspective, to keep them steadfast and tenacious.</p> + + <p>For them "it is finished." + <i>R.I.P.</i></p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page93" + id="page93"></a>[pg 93]</span> + <hr /> + <a name="V" + id="V"></a> + + <h2>V</h2> + + <h3>ROMANCE</h3> + + <p>I suppose that there are very few officers or men who have + been at the front for any length of time who would not be + secretly, if not openly, relieved and delighted if they "got a + cushy one" and found themselves <i>en route</i> for "Blighty"; + yet in many ways soldiering at the front is infinitely + preferable to soldiering at home. One of the factors which + count most heavily in favour of the front, is the extraordinary + affection of officers for their men.</p> + + <p>In England, officers hardly know their men. They live apart, + only meet on parade, and their intercourse is carried on + through the prescribed channels. Even if you do get keen on a + particular squad of <span class="pagenum"><a name="page94" + id="page94"></a>[pg 94]</span> recruits, or a particular + class of would-be bombers, you lose them so soon that your + enthusiasm never ripens into anything like intimacy. But at + the front you have your own platoon; and week after week, + month after month, you are living in the closest proximity; + you see them all day, you get to know the character of each + individual man and boy, and the result in nearly every case + is this extraordinary affection of which I have spoken.</p> + + <p>You will find it in the most unlikely subjects. I have heard + a Major, a Regular with, as I thought, a good deal of + regimental stiffness, talk about his men with a voice almost + choked with emotion. "When you see what they have to put up + with, and how amazingly cheery they are through it all, you + feel that you can't do enough for them. They make you feel that + you're not fit to black their boots." And then he went on to + tell how it was often the fellows whom in England you had + despaired of, fellows who + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page95" + id="page95"></a>[pg 95]</span> were always "up at orders," + who out at the front became your right-hand men, the men on + whom you found yourself relying.</p> + + <p>I had a letter not long ago from a gunner Captain, also a + Regular, who has been out almost since the beginning of the + war. He wrote: "One of my best friends has just been killed"; + and the "best friend" was not the fellow he had known at "the + shop," or played polo with in India, or hunted with in Ireland, + but a scamp of a telephonist, who had stolen his whisky and + owned up; who had risked his life for him, who had been a + fellow-sportsman who could be relied on in a tight corner in + the most risky of all games.</p> + + <p>There is indeed a glamour and a pathos about the private + soldier, especially when, as so often happens, he is really + only a boy. When you meet him in the trenches, wet, covered + with mud, with tired eyes speaking of long watches and hours of + risky work, he never fails to greet you + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page96" + id="page96"></a>[pg 96]</span> with a smile, and you love + him for it, and feel that nothing you can do can make up to + him for it. For you have slept in a much more comfortable + place than he has. You have had unlimited tobacco and + cigarettes. You have had a servant to cook for you. You have + fared sumptuously compared with him. You don't feel his + superior. You don't want to be "gracious without undue + familiarity." Exactly what you want to do is a bit + doubtful—the Major said he wanted to black his boots + for him, and that is perhaps the best way of expressing + it.</p> + + <p>When he goes over the top and works away in front of the + parapet with the moon shining full and the machine guns busy + all along; when he gets back to billets, and throws off his + cares and bathes and plays games like any irresponsible + schoolboy; even when he breaks bounds and is found by the M.P. + skylarking in ——, you can't help loving him. Most + of all, <span class="pagenum"><a name="page97" + id="page97"></a>[pg 97]</span> when he lies still and white + with a red stream trickling from where the sniper's bullet + has made a hole through his head, there comes a lump in your + throat that you can't swallow; and you turn away so that you + shan't have to wipe the tears from your eyes.</p> + + <p>Gallant souls, those boys, and all the more gallant because + they hate war so much. Their nerves quiver when a shell or a + "Minnie" falls into the trench near them, and then they smile + to hide their weakness. They hate going over the parapet when + the machine guns are playing; so they don't hesitate, but + plunge over with a smile to hide their fears. Their cure for + every mental worry is a smile, their answer to every prompting + of fear is a plunge. They have no philosophy or fanaticism to + help them—only the sporting instinct which is in every + healthy British boy.</p> + + <p>Then there are "the old men," less attractive, less stirring + to the imagination, <span class="pagenum"><a name="page98" + id="page98"></a>[pg 98]</span> less sensitive, but who grow + upon you more and more as you get to know them. Any one over + twenty-three or so is an "old man." They have lost the + grace, the irresponsibility, the sensibility of youth. Their + eyes and mouths are steadier, their movements more + deliberate. But they are the fellows whom you would choose + for a patrol, or a raid, where a cool head and a stout heart + are what is wanted. It takes you longer to know these. They + are less responsive to your advances. But when you have + tested them and they have tested you, you know that you have + that which is stronger than any terror of night or day, a + loyalty which nothing can shake.</p> + + <p>And then when he thinks how little he deserves all this love + and loyalty, the subaltern's heart aches with a feeling that + can find no expression either in word or deed.</p> + + <p>This is a tale that has often been told, and that people in + England know by <span class="pagenum"><a name="page99" + id="page99"></a>[pg 99]</span> heart. It cannot be told too + often. It cannot be learnt too well. For the time will come + when we shall need to remember it, and when it will be easy + to forget. Will you remember it, O ye people, when the boy + has become a man, and the soldier has become a workman? But + there are other tales to tell. There are the tales of the + sergeant-major and the sergeants, the corporals and the + "lance-jacks." Sergeant-majors, sergeants, and corporals are + not romantic figures. If you think of them at all, you + probably think of rumjars and profanity. Yet they are the + very backbone of the Army. I have been a sergeant and I have + been a private soldier, and I know that the latter has much + the better time of the two. He at least has the kind of + liberty which belongs to utter irresponsibility. If he + breaks bounds in the exuberance of his spirits, no one + thinks much worse of him as long as he does not make a song + about paying the + penalty!</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page100" + id="page100"></a>[pg 100]</span> + + <p>Of course he has to be punished. So many days of sleeping in + the guard tent, extra fatigues, pack-drill, and perhaps a + couple of hours tied up, as an example to evil-doers. But if he + has counted the cost, and pays the price with a grin, we just + say "Young scamp!" and dismiss the matter. But if a sergeant or + a corporal does the same, that's a very different matter. He + has shown himself unfit for his job. He has betrayed a trust. + We cannot forgive him. Responsibility has its disadvantages. + The senior N.C.O. gets no relaxation from discipline. In the + line and out of it he must always be watchful, self-controlled, + orderly. He must never wink. These men have not the glamour of + the boy private; but their high sense of duty and discipline, + their keenness and efficiency, merit all the honour that we can + give them.</p> + + <p>Finally—for it would not do for a subaltern to discuss + his superiors—we come + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page101" + id="page101"></a>[pg 101]</span> to the junior officer. + Somehow I fancy that in the public eye he too is a less + romantic figure than the private. One does not associate him + with privations and hardships, but with parcels from home. + Well, it is quite right. He has such a much less + uncomfortable time than his men that he does not deserve or + want sympathy on that score. He is better off in every way. + He has better quarters, better food, more kit, a servant, + and in billets far greater liberty. And yet there is many a + man who is now an officer who looks back on his days as a + private with regret. Could he have his time over again ... + yes, he would take a commission; but he would do so, not + with any thought for the less hardship of it, but from a + stern sense of duty—the sense of duty which does not + allow a man with any self-respect to refuse to shoulder a + heavier burden when called upon to do so.</p> + + <p>Those apparently irresponsible subalterns + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page102" + id="page102"></a>[pg 102]</span> whom you see entertaining + their lady friends at the Canton or Ciro's do, when they are + at the front, have very heavy responsibilities. Even in the + ordinary routine of trench life, so many decisions have to + be made, with the chance of a "telling off" whichever way + you choose, and the lives of other men hanging in the + balance. Suppose you are detailed for a wiring party, and + you arrive to find a full moon beaming sardonically down at + you. What are you to do? If you go out you may be seen. Half + a dozen of your men may be mown down by a machine gun. You + will be blamed and will blame yourself for not having + decided to remain behind the parapet. If you do not go out + you may set a precedent, and night after night the work will + be postponed, till at last it is too late, and the Hun has + got through, and raided the trench. If you hesitate or ask + advice you are lost. You have to make up your mind in an + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page103" + id="page103"></a>[pg 103]</span> instant, and to stand by + it. If you waver your men will never have confidence in you + again.</p> + + <p>Still more in a push; a junior subaltern is quite likely to + find himself at any time in command of a company, while he may + for a day even have to command the relics of a battalion. I + have seen boys almost fresh from a Public School in whose faces + there were two personalities expressed: the one full of the + lighthearted, reckless, irresponsible vitality of boyhood, and + the other scarred with the anxious lines of one to whom a + couple of hundred exhausted and nerve-shattered men have + looked, and not looked in vain, for leadership and strength in + their grim extremity. From a boy in such a position is required + something far more difficult than personal courage. If we + praise the boy soldier for his smile in the face of shells and + machine guns, don't let us forget to praise still more the boy + officer who, in addition to facing death on + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page104" + id="page104"></a>[pg 104]</span> his own account, has to + bear the responsibility of the lives of a hundred other men. + There is many a man of undoubted courage whose nerve would + fail to bear that strain.</p> + + <p>A day or two ago I was reading <i>Romance</i>, by Joseph + Conrad and Ford Madox Hueffer. It is a glorious tale of piracy + and adventure in the West Indies; but for the moment I wondered + how it came about that Conrad, the master of psychology, should + have helped to write such a book. And then I understood. For + these boys who hate the war, and suffer and endure with the + smile that is sometimes so difficult, and long with a great + longing for home and peace—some day some of them will + look back on these days and will tell themselves that after all + it was Romance, the adventure, which made their lives worth + while. And they will long to feel once again the stirring of + the old comradeship and love and loyalty, to dip their + clasp-knives into the same pot of jam, and + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page105" + id="page105"></a>[pg 105]</span> lie in the same dug-out, + and work on the same bit of wire with the same machine gun + striking secret terror into their hearts, and look into each + other's eyes for the same courageous smile. For Romance, + after all, is woven of the emotions, especially the + elemental ones of love and loyalty and fear and pain.</p> + + <p>We men are never content! In the dull routine of normal life + we sigh for Romance, and sometimes seek to create it + artificially, stimulating spurious passions, plunging into + muddy depths in search of it. Now we have got it we sigh for a + quiet life. But some day those who have not died will say: + "Thank God I have lived! I have loved, and endured, and + trembled, and trembling, dared. I have had my + Romance."</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page109" + id="page109"></a>[pg 109]</span> + <hr /> + <a name="VI" + id="VI"></a> + + <h2>VI</h2> + + <h3>IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS</h3> + + <h4>I</h4> + + <blockquote> + <p>SCENE. <i>A field in Flanders. All round the edge are + bivouacs, built of sticks and waterproof sheets. Three men + are squatting round a small fire, waiting for a couple of + mess-tins of water to boil</i>.</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>BILL (<i>gloomily</i>). The last three of the old lot! + Oo's turn next?</p> + + <p>FRED. Wot's the bleedin' good of bein' dahn in the mahf + abaht it? Give me the bleedin' 'ump, you do.</p> + + <p>JIM. Are we dahn-'earted? Not 'alf, we + ain't!</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page110" + id="page110"></a>[pg 110]</span> + + <p>BILL. I don't know as I cares. Git it over, I sez. 'Ave + done wiv it! I dessay as them wot's gone West is better off + nor wot we are, arter all.</p> + + <p>JIM. Orlright, old sport, you go an' look for the V.C., + and we'll pick up the bits an' bury 'em nice an' deep!</p> + + <p>BILL. If this 'ere bleedin' war don't finish soon that's + wot I bleedin' well will go an' do. Wish they'd get a move + on an' finish it.</p> + + <p>FRED. If ever I gets 'ome agin, I'll never do another + stroke in my natural. The old woman can keep me, + —— 'er, an' if she don't + I'll—well—'er —— + ——.</p> + + <p>JIM (<i>indignantly</i>). Nice sort o' bloke you are! + Arter creatin' abaht ole Bill makin' you miserable, you + goes on to plan 'ow you'll make other folks miserable! + Wot's the bleedin' good o' that? Keep smilin', I sez, an' + keep other folks smilin' too, if you can. If ever I gets + 'ome I'll go dahn on my bended, I will, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page111" + id="page111"></a>[pg 111]</span> and I'll be a different + sort o' bloke to wot I been afore. Swelp me, Bob, I + will! My missus won't 'ave no cause to wish as I've been + done in.</p> + + <p>BILL. Ah well, it don't much matter. We're all most like + to go afore this war's finished.</p> + + <p>JIM. If yer goes yer goes, and that's all abaht it. A + bloke's got to go some day, and fer myself I'd as soon get + done in doin' my dooty as I would die in my bed. I ain't + struck on dyin' afore my time, and I don't know as I'm + greatly struck on livin', but, whichever it is, you got ter + make the best on it.</p> + + <p>BILL (<i>meditatively</i>). I woulden mind stoppin' a + bullet fair an' square; but I woulden like one of them + 'orrible lingerin' deaths. "Died o' wounds" arter six + munfs' mortal hagony—that's wot gets at me. Git it + over an' done wiv, I sez.</p> + + <p>FRED (<i>querulously</i>). Ow, chuck it, Bill. You gives + me the creeps, you + do.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page112" + id="page112"></a>[pg 112]</span> + + <p>JIM. I knowed a bloke onest in civil life wot died a + lingerin' death. Lived in the second-floor back in the same + 'ouse as me an' my missus, 'e did. Suffered somefink' + 'orrible, 'e did, an' lingered more nor five year. Yet I + reckon 'e was one o' the best blokes as ever I come acrost. + Went to 'eaven straight, 'e did, if ever any one did. + Wasn't 'alf glad ter go, neither. "I done my bit of 'ell, + Jim," 'e sez to me, an' looked that 'appy you'd a' thought + as 'e was well agin. Shan't never forget 'is face, I + shan't. An' I'd sooner be that bloke, for all 'is + sufferin's, than I'd be old Fred 'ere, an' live to a + 'undred.</p> + + <p>BILL (<i>philosophically</i>). You'm right, matey. This + is a wale o' tears, as the 'ymn sez, and them as is out on + it is best off, if so be as they done their dooty in that + state o' life.... Where's the corfee, Jim? The water's on + the bile.</p> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page115" + id="page115"></a>[pg 115]</span> + <hr /> + <a name="VII" + id="VII"></a> + + <h2>VII</h2> + + <h3>THE FEAR OF DEATH IN WAR</h3> + + <p>I am not a psychologist, and I have not seen many people die + in their beds; but I think it is established that very few + people are afraid of a natural death when it comes to the test. + Often they are so weak that they are incapable of emotion. + Sometimes they are in such physical pain that death seems a + welcome deliverer.</p> + + <p>But a violent death such as death in battle is obviously a + different matter. It comes to a man when he is in the full + possession of his health and vigour, and when every physical + instinct is urging him to self-preservation. If a man feared + death in such circumstances one could not be surprised, and yet + in the present war <span class="pagenum"><a name="page116" + id="page116"></a>[pg 116]</span> hundreds of thousands of + men have gone to meet practically certain destruction + without giving a sign of terror.</p> + + <p>The fact is that at the moment of a charge men are in an + absolutely abnormal condition.</p> + + <p>I do not know how to describe their condition in scientific + terms; but there is a sensation of tense excitement combined + with a sort of uncanny calm. Their emotions seem to be numbed. + Noises, sights, and sensations which would ordinarily produce + intense pity, horror, or dread, have no effect on them at all, + and yet never was their mind clearer, their sight, hearing, + etc., more acute. They notice all sorts of little details which + would ordinarily pass them by, but which now thrust themselves + on their attention with absurd definiteness—absurd + because so utterly incongruous and meaningless. Or they + suddenly remember with extraordinary clearness some trivial + incident of their past life, hitherto unremembered, and not a + bit worth <span class="pagenum"><a name="page117" + id="page117"></a>[pg 117]</span> remembering! But with the + issue before them, with victory or death or the prospect of + eternity, their minds blankly refuse to come to grips.</p> + + <p>No; it is not at the moment of a charge that men fear death. + As in the case of those who die in bed, Nature has an + anesthetic ready for the emergency. It is before an attack that + a man is more liable to fear—before his blood is hot, and + while he still has leisure to think. The trouble may begin a + day or two in advance, when he is first told of the attack + which is likely to mean death to himself and so many of his + chums. This part is comparatively easy. It is fairly easy to be + philosophic if one has plenty of time. One indulges in regrets + about the home one may never see again. One is rather sorry for + oneself; but such self-pity is not wholly unpleasant. One feels + mildly heroic, which is not wholly disagreeable either. Very + few men are afraid of death in the abstract. Very few men + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page118" + id="page118"></a>[pg 118]</span> believe in hell, or are + tortured by their consciences. They are doubtful about + after-death, hesitating between a belief in eternal oblivion + and a belief in a new life under the same management as the + present; and neither prospect fills them with terror. If + only one's "people" would be sensible, one would not + mind.</p> + + <p>But as the hour approaches when the attack is due to be + launched the strain becomes more tense. The men are probably + cooped up in a very small space. Movement is very restricted. + Matches must not be struck. Voices must be hushed to a whisper. + Shells bursting and machine guns rattling bring home the grim + reality of the affair. It is then more than at any other time + in an attack that a man has to "face the spectres of the mind," + and lay them if he can. Few men care for those hours of + waiting.</p> + + <p>Of all the hours of dismay that come to a soldier there are + really few more trying to + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page119" + id="page119"></a>[pg 119]</span> the nerves than when he is + sitting in a trench under heavy fire from high-explosive + shells or bombs from trench mortars. You can watch these + bombs lobbed up into the air. You see them slowly wobble + down to earth, there to explode with a terrific detonation + that sets every nerve in your body a-jangling. You can do + nothing. You cannot retaliate in any way. You simply have to + sit tight and hope for the best. Some men joke and smile; + but their mirth is forced. Some feign stoical indifference, + and sit with a paper and a pipe; but as a rule their pipes + are out and their reading a pretence. There are few men, + indeed, whose hearts are not beating faster, and whose + nerves are not on edge.</p> + + <p>But you can't call this "the fear of death"; it is a purely + physical reaction of danger and detonation. It is not fear of + death as death. It is not fear of hurt as hurt. It is an + infinitely intensified dislike of suspense and uncertainty, + sudden noise <span class="pagenum"><a name="page120" + id="page120"></a>[pg 120]</span> and shock. It belongs + wholly to the physical organism, and the only cure that I + know is to make an act of personal dissociation from the + behaviour of one's flesh. Your teeth may chatter and your + knees quake, but as long as the real you disapproves and + derides this absurdity of the flesh, the composite you can + carry on. Closely allied to the sensation of nameless dread + caused by high explosives is that caused by gas. No one can + carry out a relief in the trenches without a certain anxiety + and dread if he knows that the enemy has gas cylinders in + position and that the wind is in the east. But this, again, + is not exactly the fear of death; but much more a physical + reaction to uncertainty and suspense combined with the + threat of physical suffering.</p> + + <p>Personally, I believe that very few men indeed fear death. + The vast majority experience a more or less violent physical + shrinking from the pain of death and + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page121" + id="page121"></a>[pg 121]</span> wounds, especially when + they are obliged to be physically inactive, and when they + have nothing else to think about. This kind of dread is, in + the case of a good many men, intensified by darkness and + suspense, and by the deafening noise and shock that + accompany the detonation of high explosives. But it cannot + properly be called the fear of death, and it is a purely + physical reaction which can be, and nearly always is, + controlled by the mind.</p> + + <p>Last of all there is the repulsion and loathing for the + whole business of war, with its bloody ruthlessness, its + fiendish ingenuity, and its insensate cruelty, that comes to a + man after a battle, when the tortured and dismembered dead lie + strewn about the trench, and the wounded groan from + No-Man's-Land. But neither is that the fear of death. It is a + repulsion which breeds hot anger more often than cold fear, + reckless hatred of life more often than abject clinging to + it.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page122" + id="page122"></a>[pg 122]</span> + + <p>The cases where any sort of fear, even for a moment, obtains + the mastery of a man are very rare. Sometimes in the case of a + boy, whose nerves are more sensitive than a man's, and whose + habit of self-control is less formed, a sudden shock will upset + his mental balance. Sometimes a very egotistical man will + succumb to danger long drawn out. The same applies to men who + are very introspective. I have seen a man of obviously low + intelligence break down on the eve of an attack. The + anticipation of danger makes many men "windy," especially + officers who are responsible for other lives than their own. + But even where men are afraid it is generally not death that + they fear. Their fear is a physical and instinctive shrinking + from hurt, shock, and the unknown, which instinct obtains the + mastery only through surprise, or through the exhaustion of the + mind and will, or through a man being excessively self-centred. + It is not the <span class="pagenum"><a name="page123" + id="page123"></a>[pg 123]</span> fear of death rationally + considered; but an irrational physical instinct which all + men possess, but which almost all can + control.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page127" + id="page127"></a>[pg 127]</span> + <hr /> + <a name="VIII" + id="VIII"></a> + + <h2>VIII</h2> + + <h3>IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS</h3> + + <h4>II</h4> + + <blockquote> + <p>SCENE. <i>A dug-out in a wood somewhere in Flanders. + Officers at tea.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>HANCOCK. Damned glad to be out of that infernal firing + trench, anyway. (<i>A dull report is heard in the + distance.</i>) There goes another torpedo! Wonder who's + copt it this time!</p> + + <p>SMITH. For Christ's sake talk about something else!</p> + + <p>HANCOCK (<i>ignoring him</i>). Are we coming back to the + same trenches, sir?</p> + + <p>CAPTAIN DODD. 'Spect so.</p> + + <p>HANCOCK. At the present rate we shall + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page128" + id="page128"></a>[pg 128]</span> last another two + spells. I hate this sort of bisnay. You go on month + after month losing fellows the whole time, and at the + end of it you're exactly where you started. I wish + they'd get a move on.</p> + + <p>WHISTON. Tired of life?</p> + + <p>HANCOCK. If you call this life, yes! If this damned war + is going on another two years, I hope to God I don't live + to see the end of it.</p> + + <p>SMITH. If ever I get home ...!</p> + + <p>WHISTON. Well?</p> + + <p>SMITH. Won't I paint the town red, that's all!</p> + + <p>WHISTON. If ever I get home ... well, I guess I'll go + home. No more razzle-dazzle for master! No, there's a + little girl awaiting, and I know she thinks of me. Shan't + wait any longer.</p> + + <p>HANCOCK (<i>heavily</i>). Don't think a chap's got any + right to marry a girl under present circs. It's ten to one + she's a widow before she's a + mother.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page129" + id="page129"></a>[pg 129]</span> + + <p>SMITH. Oh, shut up!</p> + + <p>CAPTAIN DODD (<i>gently</i>). To some women the kid + would be just the one thing that made life bearable.</p> + + <p>HANCOCK (<i>reddening</i>). Sorry, sir; forgot you'd + just done it. Course you're right. Depends absolutely on + the girl.</p> + + <p>CAPTAIN DODD. Thanks. I say, Whiston, I'm going to + B.H.Q. Care to come along?</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>They go out together.</i>)</p> + + <p>SCENE. <i>A path through a wood</i>. CAPTAIN DODD + <i>and</i> WHISTON <i>walking together, followed by a</i> + LANCE-CORPORAL.</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>DODD. D'you believe in presentiments, Whiston?</p> + + <p>WHISTON (<i>doubtfully</i>). A year ago I should have + laughed at you for asking. Now ...</p> + + <p>DODD. More things in heaven and earth + ...?</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page130" + id="page130"></a>[pg 130]</span> + + <p>WHISTON. My rationalism is always being upset!</p> + + <p>DODD. How exactly?</p> + + <p>WHISTON. For instance, I simply can't believe that old + John is finished. Can you?</p> + + <p>DODD (<i>quietly</i>). No.</p> + + <p>WHISTON. Funny thing. As far as I'm concerned I can + quite imagine myself just snuffing out. You can put one + word on my grave, if I have one—"Napu." But as for + John, no. I want something else. Something about Death + being scored off after all.</p> + + <p>DODD. I know. "O Death, where is thy sting? O Grave, + where is thy victory?"</p> + + <p>WHISTON. Just that. Mind you, I don't think I'm afraid + of Death. I don't want to get killed. But if I saw him + coming I think I could smile, and feel that after all he + wasn't getting much of a bargain. But the idea of his + getting old John sticks in my gullet. I believe in + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page131" + id="page131"></a>[pg 131]</span> all sorts of things for + him. Resurrection and life and Heaven, and all that.</p> + + <p>DODD. What do you think about it, Corporal?</p> + + <p>LANCE-CORPORAL. Same as Mr. Whiston, sir.</p> + + <p>WHISTON. But what about presentiments?</p> + + <p>DODD. Oh, I don't know. Funny thing; but all through + this fortnight I've been absolutely certain that I was not + for it.</p> + + <p>LANCE-CORPORAL. Beg pardon, sir, we noticed that, + sir!</p> + + <p>WHISTON. Well, it's practically over now.</p> + + <p>DODD. I'm not so sure. I'm not in a funk, you know. It's + simply that I don't feel so sure.</p> + + <p>WHISTON. Oh, rot, sir! I don't believe in that sort of + presentiment.</p> + + <p>DODD. What do you think, Corporal?</p> + + <p>LANCE-CORPORAL. I think you goes when your time comes, + sir. But it won't <span class="pagenum"><a name="page132" + id="page132"></a>[pg 132]</span> come to-night, sir. Not + after all we been through this spell, and the spell just + finished.</p> + + <p>DODD. I believe you're right, Corporal. We shall go when + our time comes, and not before. I like that idea, you know. + It means one hasn't got to worry.</p> + + <p>WHISTON. If it means that you go on as you've done the + last fortnight, it's a damnable doctrine, sir. You've no + business to go taking unnecessary risks simply because + you've got bitten by Mohammedanism.</p> + + <p>DODD (<i>thoughtfully</i>). You're right, too, Whiston. + "Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God." One shouldn't take + unnecessary risks. Mind you, I don't admit that I have. It + just enables one to do one's job with a quiet mind, that's + all.</p> + </div> + + <h4>TWO DAYS LATER</h4> + + <blockquote> + <p>SCENE. <i>A billet.</i> HANCOCK <i>and</i> SMITH.</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>HANCOCK. + Damn!</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page133" + id="page133"></a>[pg 133]</span> + + <p>SMITH. What's up? Aren't you satisfied? The brigade's + bound to go back and re-form now, and that means that we + shan't be in the trenches for a couple of months at least. + We may even go where there's a pretty girl or two. My + word!</p> + + <p>HANCOCK. Damnation!</p> + + <p>SMITH (<i>genuinely astonished</i>). What the hell's + wrong? Any one would think you liked the trenches! + Personally, I don't care if I never see them again. + England's full of nice young, bright young things crying to + get out. Let 'em all come! They can have my job and + welcome!</p> + + <p>HANCOCK (<i>to himself</i>). God! Why Dodd and Whiston? + Why, why, why? Why not me? Why just the fellows we can't + afford to lose?</p> + + <p>SMITH. Oh, for God's sake stow it! What the hell's the + good of going on like that? Of course I'm sorry for them + and all that. But I don't see that it's going to help them + to make oneself miserable about + it.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page134" + id="page134"></a>[pg 134]</span> + + <p>HANCOCK (<i>fiercely</i>). Sorry for them! It's not them + I'm sorry for! They ... they're the lucky ones! God! I + suppose that's the answer! They'd earned it!</p> + + <p>SMITH (<i>satirically</i>). Have you turned pi? We shall + have you saying the prayers that you learnt at your + mother's knee next, I suppose! I shall have to tell the + Padre, and he'll preach a sermon about it! I should never + have thought you would have been <i>frightened</i> into + religion!</p> + + <p>HANCOCK. Frightened! You little swine! <i>You</i> talk + about being frightened after last night! I tell you I'd + rather be lying out there with Dodd and Whiston than be + sitting here with you. Frightened into religion!</p> + + <p>SMITH. Oh, I suppose you're the next candidate for death + or glory! Good luck to you! I'm not competing. I'll do my + job; but I'm not going to make a fool of myself. Dodd and + Whiston deserved all they got. You're right there. You'll + get <span class="pagenum"><a name="page135" + id="page135"></a>[pg 135]</span> what you deserve some + day, I expect! Don't look at me like that. I've said I'm + sorry, and all that. But it's the truth I'm speaking, + all the same.</p> + + <p>HANCOCK. And you'll get what you deserve too, I suppose, + which is to live in your own company till the end of your + miserable existence. I won't deprive you of your reward + more than I can help, I promise you!</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(HANCOCK <i>goes out.</i>)</p> + </blockquote><span class="pagenum"><a name="page139" + id="page139"></a>[pg 139]</span> + <hr /> + <a name="IX" + id="IX"></a> + + <h2>IX</h2> + + <h3>THE WISDOM OF "A STUDENT IN ARMS"</h3> + + <p>It is no good trying to fathom "things" to the bottom; they + have not got one.</p> + + <p>Knowledge is always descriptive, and never fundamental. We + can describe the appearance and conditions of a process; but + not the way of it.</p> + + <p>Agnosticism is a fundamental fact. It is the starting-point + of the wise man who has discovered that it needs eternity to + study infinity.</p> + + <p>Agnosticism, however, is no excuse for indolence. Because we + cannot know all, we need not therefore be totally ignorant.</p> + + <p>The true wisdom is that in which all knowledge is + subordinate to practical aims, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page140" + id="page140"></a>[pg 140]</span> and blended into a working + philosophy of life.</p> + + <p>The true wisdom is that it is not what a man does, or has, + or says, that matters; but what he is.</p> + + <p>This must be the aim of practical philosophy—to make a + man be <i>something</i>.</p> + + <p>The world judges a man by his station, inherited or + acquired. God judges by his character. To be our best we must + share God's viewpoint.</p> + + <p>To the world death is always a tragedy; to the Christian it + is never a tragedy unless a man has been a contemptible + character.</p> + + <p>Religion is the widening of a man's horizon so as to include + God.</p> + + <p>It is in the nature of a speculation, but its returns are + immediate.</p> + + <p>True religion means betting one's life that there is a + God.</p> + + <p>Its immediate fruits are courage, stability, calm, + unselfishness, friendship, generosity, humility, and + hope.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page141" + id="page141"></a>[pg 141]</span> + + <p>Religion is the only possible basis of optimism.</p> + + <p>Optimism is the essential condition of progress.</p> + + <p>One is what one believes oneself to be. If one believes + oneself to be an animal one becomes bestial; if one believes + oneself spiritual one becomes Divine.</p> + + <p>Faith is an effective force whose measure has never yet been + taken.</p> + + <p>Man is the creature of heredity and environment. He can only + rise superior to circumstances by bringing God into environment + of which he is conscious.</p> + + <p>The recognition of God's presence upsets the balance of a + man's environment, and means a new birth into a new life.</p> + + <p>The faculties which perceive God increase with use like any + other perceptive faculties.</p> + + <p>Belief in God may be an illusion; but it is an illusion that + pays.</p> + + <p>If belief in God is illusion, happy is + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page142" + id="page142"></a>[pg 142]</span> he who is deluded! He gains + this world and thinks he will gain the next.</p> + + <p>The disbeliever loses this world, and risks losing the + next.</p> + + <p>To be the centre of one's universe is misery. To have one's + universe centred in God is the peace that passeth + understanding.</p> + + <p>Greatness is founded on inward peace.</p> + + <p>Energy is only effective when it springs from deep calm.</p> + + <p>The pleasure of life lies in contrasts; the fear of + contrasts is a chain that binds most men.</p> + + <p>In the hour of danger a man is proven. The boaster hides, + and the egotist trembles. He whose care is for others forgets + to be afraid.</p> + + <p>Men live for eating and drinking, passion and wealth. They + die for honour.</p> + + <p>Blessed is he of whom it has been said that he so loved + giving that he even gave his own + life.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page145" + id="page145"></a>[pg 145]</span> + <hr /> + <a name="X" + id="X"></a> + + <h2>X</h2> + + <h3>IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS</h3> + + <h4>III</h4> + + <blockquote> + <p>SCENE. <i>A trench unpleasantly near the firing line. + There has been an hour's intense bombardment by the + British, with suitable retaliation by the Boches. The + retaliation is just dying down.</i></p> + + <p>CHARACTERS. ALBERT—<i>Round-eyed, rotund, + red-cheeked, yellow-haired, and deliberate; in civil life + probably a drayman.</i> JIM—<i>Small, lean, sallow, + grey-eyed, with a kind of quiet restlessness; in civil life + probably a mechanic with leanings towards Socialism.</i> + POZZIE—<i>A thick-set, low-browed, impassive, + silent</i> <span class="pagenum"><a name="page146" + id="page146"></a>[pg 146]</span> <i>country youth, with + a face the colour of the soil.</i> JINKS—<i>An old + soldier, red, lean, wrinkled, with very blue eyes. His + face is rough-hewn, almost grotesque like a gargoyle. In + his eyes there is a perpetual glint of humour, and in + the poise of his head a certain irrepressible + jauntiness.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>ALBERT (<i>whose eyes are more staring than ever, his + cheeks pendulous and crimson, his general air that of a + partly deflated air-cushion</i>). Gawd's truth!</p> + + <p>JINKS (<i>wagging his head</i>). Well, my old sprig o' + mint, what's wrong wi' you?</p> + + <p>ALBERT. It ain't right. (<i>Sententiously</i>) It's agin + natur'. Flesh an' blood weren't made for this sort o' + think.</p> + + <p>JIM. It ain't flesh an' blood that can't stand it. It's + Mind. Look at old Pozzie. 'E's flesh an' blood, and don't + turn an 'air! For myself I'll go potty one o' these + days.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page147" + id="page147"></a>[pg 147]</span> + + <p>JINKS (<i>slapping POZZIE on the back</i>). You don't + take no notice, do you, old lump o' duff?</p> + + <p>POZZIE. Oi woulden moind if I got moy rations; but a + chap can't keep a good 'eart if 'e's got an empty + stummick.</p> + + <p>JIM (<i>sarcastically</i>). You keep yer 'eart in yer + stomach, don't yer? You ain't got no mind, you ain't. Jinks + was born potty, an' the rest of us'll all go potty except + you. It's you an' yer Ally Sloper's Cavalry what'll win the + war, I don't think!</p> + + <p>ALBERT. What I wants ter know is 'ow long the bleedin' + war's a-goin' ter last. If it goes on much longer I'll be + potty if I ain't a gone 'un.</p> + + <p>JIM. There's only one way of ending it as I knows + on.</p> + + <p>ALBERT. What's that, matey?</p> + + <p>JIM. Put all the bleedin' politicians on both sides in + the bleedin' trenches. Give 'em a week's bombardment, an' + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page148" + id="page148"></a>[pg 148]</span> send 'em away for a + week to make peace, with a promise of a fortnight's + intense at. the end of it if they've failed. They'd find + a way, sure enough.</p> + + <p>ALBERT (<i>admiringly</i>). Ah, that they would an' all. + If old "Wait and See" 'ad been 'ere these last four days 'e + wouldn't talk about fightin' to the last man!</p> + + <p>JINKS. Don't talk stoopid. 'Oo began the bloomin' war? + Don't yer know what you're fightin' for? D'you want ter + leave the 'Uns in France an' Belgium an' Serbia an' all? It + ain't fer us to make peace. It's fer the 'Uns. An' if you + are done in, you got to go under some day. I ain't sure as + they ain't the lucky ones what's got it over and done with. + And arter all, it's not us what's not proper. The 'Uns 'ave + 'ad two fer our one.</p> + + <p>ALBERT. They got dug-outs as deep as 'ell, it don't + touch 'em.</p> + + <p>JINKS. (<i>but without conviction</i>). Don't talk + silly.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page149" + id="page149"></a>[pg 149]</span> + + <p>POZZIE. Oi reckon we got to go through with it. But they + didn't ought to give a chap short rations. That's what + takes the 'eart out of a chap.</p> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page153" + id="page153"></a>[pg 153]</span> + <hr /> + <a name="XI" + id="XI"></a> + + <h2>XI</h2> + + <h3>LETTER TO AN ARMY CHAPLAIN<a id="footnotetag2" + name="footnotetag2"></a><a href="#footnote2"><sup>2</sup></a></h3> + + <p class="author"><i>April 17, 1916.</i></p> + + <p>Thank you very much for your letter of a week ago, which I + should have tried to answer before if I had had time. I am + afraid that your confidence in me as an oracle will be severely + shaken when I confess that I was once on the eve of being + ordained, and that in the end I funked it because it seemed + such an awfully difficult job, and I couldn't see my way to + going through with it.</p> + + <p>However, I must try to answer your + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page154" + id="page154"></a>[pg 154]</span> letter as best I can, and I + hope that you will not mind my speaking plainly what I + think, and will remember that I do so in no spirit of + superiority, but very humbly, as one who has funked the + great work that you have had the pluck to take up, and who + has even failed in the little bit of work that he himself + did try and do. This last means that I have no business to + be an officer. It was the biggest mistake in my life, for my + position in the ranks did give me a hold on the fellows, the + strength of which I have only realized since I left.</p> + + <p>Now then to the point. As I understand you, your difficulty + is that you feel that you must devote yourself to strengthening + a very few men who are already Churchmen, and to whom you can + talk in the language of the Church of things which you know + they want to hear about, or you must appeal to the crowd of + those who are merely good fellows + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page155" + id="page155"></a>[pg 155]</span> and often sad scamps too, + who must be caught with buns and cinemas and who are very + difficult to get any farther.</p> + + <p>I fancy that you, like me, when you see a fine dashing young + fellow, with a touch of honesty and recklessness and wonderful + mystery of youth in his eyes, love him as a brother, and long + to do something to keep him clean, and to keep him from the + sordid things to which you and I know well enough he will + descend in the long run if one cannot put the love of clean, + wholesome life into his heart. But how to get at him? If you + talk to him about his soul you disgust him, and you feel a sort + of sneaking sympathy with him too. It does not seem the thing + to make a chap self-conscious and a bit of a prig when he is + not one to start with. On the other hand, if you just keep to + buns and cinemas you never get any farther. Well, it is a big + difficulty. The only experience that I have had which counts at + all is experience <span class="pagenum"><a name="page156" + id="page156"></a>[pg 156]</span> that I gained while trying + to run a boys' club in South London, and you must not think + me egotistical if I tell you what seems to me to have been + the secret of any power that I seem to have had over + fellows.</p> + + <p>At first I used to have a short service at the close of the + club every evening, to which most of the boys used to stay. I + also had a service on Sunday afternoon. Something of the same + sort might perhaps be possible in the Y.M.C.A. tent if there is + one where you are. When I was talking to them at these services + I always used to try and make them feel that Christ was the + fulfilment of all the best things that they admired, that He + was their natural hero. I would tell them some story of heroism + and meanness contrasted, of courage and cowardice, of noble + forgiveness and vile cruelty, and so get them on the side of + the angels. Then I would try and spring it upon them that + Christ was the Lord of the heroes and the brave + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page157" + id="page157"></a>[pg 157]</span> men and the noble men, and + that He was fighting against all that was mean and cruel and + cowardly, and that it was up to them to take their stand by + His side if they wanted to make the world a little better + instead of a little worse, and I would try to show them how + in little practical ways in their homes and at their work + and in the club they could do a bit for Christ.</p> + + <p>Well, they listened pretty well, and I think that they + agreed in a general sort of way, only 'they knew that I was a + richish man in comparison with them, and that I didn't have + their difficulties to contend with, and that all tended to undo + the effect of what I had said. And then accident gave me a sort + of clue to the way to get them to take one seriously. For some + idiotic reason—I really couldn't say just what it + was—I dressed up as a tramp one day, and spent a night in + a casual ward. I didn't do it for any very worthy motive, and I + didn't mean any <span class="pagenum"><a name="page158" + id="page158"></a>[pg 158]</span> one to know about it; but + it got round, and I suddenly found that it had caught the + imaginations of some of the fellows, and I realized that if + one was to have any power over them one must do symbolic + things to show them that one meant what one said about love + being really better than money, and all that sort of thing. + So in rather a half-hearted way I did try to do things which + would show them that I was in earnest. I took a couple of + rooms in a little cottage in a funny little bug-ridden + court, instead of living at the mission-house. I went out to + Australia steerage to see why emigration of London boys was + not a success, and when war broke out I enlisted, although I + had previously held a commission. And all these little + things, though on reasonable grounds often rather + indefensible, undoubtedly had the effect of making my South + London boys take me more seriously than they did at first. + Well, I am quite sure that with Tommies, if + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page159" + id="page159"></a>[pg 159]</span> ever you get a chance of + doing something in the way of sharing their privations and + dangers when you aren't obliged to, or of showing in + practical ways humility and unselfishness, that will endear + you to them, and give you weight with them more than + anything else. In my time in the ranks I had that proved + over and over again. If once I was able to do even a small + kindness for a fellow which involved a bit of unnecessary + trouble, he would never forget it, and would repay me a + thousand times over. I was a sergeant for about nine months + in England, and had one or two chances. Then I reverted to + the ranks, and for that the men could not do enough to show + me kindness. (It was my not valuing rank and comparative + comfort for its own sake that appealed to them.) Continually + I have reaped a most gigantic reward of goodwill for actions + which cost very little, and which were not always done from + the motives + imputed.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page160" + id="page160"></a>[pg 160]</span> + + <p>I am not swanking—at least, I don't mean to—but + that is just my experience, that with Tommy it is actions, and + specially actions that imply and symbolize humility, courage, + unselfishness, etc., that count ten thousand times more than + the best sermons in the world. I am afraid that all this is not + much good because you are an officer, and your course of action + is very clearly marked out for you by authority. But I do say + that if ever you have a chance of showing that you are willing + to share the often hard and sometimes humiliating lot of the + men it is that which above all things will give you power with + them; just as it is the Cross of Christ, and the spitting and + the mocking and the scourging, and the degradation of His + exposure in dying, that gives Him His power far more than even + the Sermon on the Mount. After all, it is always what costs + most that is best worth having, and if you only see Tommy + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page161" + id="page161"></a>[pg 161]</span> in his easiest moments, + when he is at the Y.M.C.A. or the club, you see him at the + time when he is least impressionable in a permanent + manner.</p> + + <p>Well, I must apologize for writing such an egotistical and + intimate sort of letter on so slight a provocation. But this + that I have said is all that my experience has taught me about + influencing the Tommy.</p> + + <p>No doubt there are other ways; but I have not been able to + strike them.</p> + + <p class="author">Yours very truly,<br /> + DONALD HANKEY, 2nd Lieut.</p> + + <p>P.S.—Of course in becoming a Second Lieutenant I have + dished my own influence most effectually. It has often appeared + to me that among ordinary working men humility was considered + the Christian virtue <i>par excellence</i>. Humility combined + with love is so rare, I suppose, and that is why it is + marvelled at.</p> + + <blockquote class="footnote"> + <a id="footnote2" + name="footnote2"></a><b>Footnote 2:</b> + <a href="#footnotetag2">(return)</a> + + <p>This chapter is the actual text of a letter from "A + Student in Arms," and like the most of the other chapters + appeared originally in the <i>Spectator</i>.</p> + </blockquote><span class="pagenum"><a name="page165" + id="page165"></a>[pg 165]</span> + <hr /> + <a name="XII" + id="XII"></a> + + <h2>XII</h2> + + <h3>"DON'T WORRY"</h3> + + <p>This is at present the soldier's favourite chorus at the + front—</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"What's the use of worrying?</p> + + <p class="i2">It never was worth while!</p> + + <p>Pack up your troubles in your old kit-bag</p> + + <p class="i2">And Smile, Smile, Smile!"</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>Not a bad chorus, either, for the trenches! You can't stop a + shell from bursting in your trench, even if Mr. Rawson can! You + can't stop the rain, or prevent a light from going up just as + you are half-way over the parapet ... so what on earth is the + use of worrying? If you can't alter things, you must accept + them, and make the best of + them.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page166" + id="page166"></a>[pg 166]</span> + + <p>Yet some men do worry, and by so doing effectually destroy + their peace of mind without doing any one any good. What is + worse, it is often the religious man who worries. I have even + heard those whose care was for the soldier's soul, deplore the + fact that he did not worry! I have heard it said that the + soldier is so careless, realizes his position so little, is so + hard to touch! And, on the other hand, I have heard the soldier + say that he did not want religion, because it would make him + worry. Strange, isn't it, if Christianity means worry and + anxiety, and if it is only the heathen who is cheerful and free + from care? Yet the feeling that this is so undoubtedly exists, + and it must have some foundation. Perhaps it is one of the + subjects which ought to engage the attention of Churchmen in + these days of "repentance and hope."</p> + + <p>Of course, worrying is about as un-Christian as anything can + be. "μη + μεριμνατε + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page167" + id="page167"></a>[pg 167]</span> τη + ψυχη + υμων"—"Don't worry about your + life"—is the Master's express command. In fact, the + call of Christ is a call to something very like the + cheerfulness of the soldier in the trenches. It is a call to + a life of external turmoil and internal peace. "I came not + to bring peace, but a sword"; "take up your cross and follow + Me"; "ye shall be hated"; "he that would save his life shall + lose it." It is a call to take risks, to risk poverty, + unpopularity, humiliation, death. It is a call to follow the + way of the Cross. But the way of the Cross is also the way + of peace, the peace of God that passeth understanding. It is + a way of freedom from all cares, and anxieties, and fears; + but not a way of escape from them.</p> + + <p>Yet worrying is often a feature of the actual Churchman. The + actual Churchman is often a man whose conscience is an incubus. + He can do nothing without weighing motives and calculating + results. <span class="pagenum"><a name="page168" + id="page168"></a>[pg 168]</span> It makes him introspective + to an extent that is positively morbid. He is continually + probing himself to discover whether his motives are really + pure and disinterested, continually trying to decide whether + he is "worthy" or "fit" to undertake this or that + responsibility, or to face this or that eventuality. He is + full of suspicion of himself, of self-distrust. In the + trenches he is always wondering whether he is fit to die, + whether he will acquit himself worthily in a crisis, whether + he has done anything that he ought not to have done, or left + undone anything that he ought to have done. Especially if he + is an officer, his responsibility weighs on him terribly, + and I have known more than one good fellow and conscientious + Churchman worry himself into thinking that he was unfit for + his responsibilities as an officer, and ask to be relieved + of them.</p> + + <p>There must be something wrong about the Christianity of such + men. Their <span class="pagenum"><a name="page169" + id="page169"></a>[pg 169]</span> over-conscientiousness + seems to create a wholly wrong sense of proportion, an + exaggerated sense of the significance of their own actions + and characters which is as far removed as can be from the + childlike humility which Christ taught. The truth seems to + be that we lay far too much stress on conscience, + self-examination, and personal salvation, and that we trust + the Holy Spirit far too little.</p> + + <p>If we look to the teaching of Christ, we do not find any + recommendation to meticulous self-analysis, but rather we are + taught a kind of spiritual recklessness, an unquestioning + confidence in what seem to be right impulses, and that quite + regardless of results. We are not told to be careful to spend + each penny to the best advantage; but we are told that if our + money is preventing us from entering the Kingdom, we had better + give it all away. We are not told to set a high value on our + lives, and to spend them with care for the good of the + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page170" + id="page170"></a>[pg 170]</span> Kingdom. On the contrary, + we are told to risk our lives recklessly if we would + preserve them. A sense of anxious responsibility is + discouraged. If our limbs cause us to offend, we are advised + to cut them off.</p> + + <p>The whole teaching of the Gospels is that we have got to + find freedom and peace in trusting ourselves implicitly to the + care of God. We have got to follow what we think right quite + recklessly, and leave the issue to God; and in judging between + right and wrong we are only given two rules for our guidance. + Everything which shows love for God and love for man is right, + and everything which shows personal ambition and anxiety is + wrong.</p> + + <p>What all this means as far as the trenches are concerned is + extraordinarily clear. The Christian is advised not to be too + pushing or ambitious. He is advised to "take the lowest room." + But if he is told to move up higher, he has got to go. If he is + given <span class="pagenum"><a name="page171" + id="page171"></a>[pg 171]</span> responsibility, there is no + question of refusing it. He has got to do his best and leave + the issue to God. If he does well, he will be given more + responsibility. But there is no need to worry. The same + formula holds good for the new sphere. Let him do his best + and leave the issue to God. If he does badly, well, if he + did his best, that means that he was not fit for the job, + and he must be perfectly willing to take a humbler job, and + do his best at that.</p> + + <p>As for personal danger, he must not think of it. If he is + killed, that is a sign that he is no longer indispensable. + Perhaps he is wanted elsewhere. The enemy can only kill the + body, and the body is not the important thing about him. Every + man who goes to war must, if he is to be happy, give his body, + a living sacrifice, to God and his country. It is no longer + his. He need not worry about it. The peace of God which passeth + all understanding simply comes from not worrying about results + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page172" + id="page172"></a>[pg 172]</span> because they are God's + business and not ours, and in trusting implicitly all + impulses that make for love of God and man. Few of us + perhaps will ever attain to a full measure of such faith; + but at least we can make sure that our "Christianity" brings + us nearer to it.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page175" + id="page175"></a>[pg 175]</span> + <hr /> + <a name="XIII" + id="XIII"></a> + + <h2>XIII</h2> + + <h3>IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS</h3> + + <h4>IV</h4> + + <h3><i>AU COIFFEUR</i></h3> + + <blockquote> + <p>SCENE. <i>A barber's shop in a small French town about + thirty miles from the front. A</i> SUBALTERN <i>and a + stout</i> BOURGEOIS <i>are waiting their turn</i>.</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>BOURGEOIS. Is it that it is the mud of the trenches on + the boots of Monsieur?</p> + + <p>SUBALTERN. Ah! but no, Monsieur, for then it would reach + to my waist!</p> + + <p>BOURGEOIS. Nevertheless, Monsieur is but recently come + from the trenches, is it not + so?</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page176" + id="page176"></a>[pg 176]</span> + + <p>SUBALTERN. Yes, I am arrived from the trenches + yesterday.</p> + + <p>BOURGEOIS. Then Monsieur has assisted at the great + attack!</p> + + <p>SUBALTERN. Oh, yes, I helped a very little bit.</p> + + <p>BOURGEOIS. There have been immense losses, is it not + so?</p> + + <p>SUBALTERN (<i>vaguely</i>). There are always great + losses when one attacks.</p> + + <p>BOURGEOIS. Ah! but much greater than one + expected—I have seen, I, the wounded coming down the + river.</p> + + <p>SUBALTERN. I—I have always expected great + losses.</p> + + <p>BOURGEOIS. 'Tis true. There are always great losses when + one attacks. But all goes well, Monsieur, is it not so?</p> + + <p>SUBALTERN. It is difficult to estimate the success of an + attack until after several weeks. But I think that all goes + well.</p> + + <p>BOURGEOIS. But yes, the French, they have had a great + success, and also the + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page177" + id="page177"></a>[pg 177]</span> English. The English + are wonderful. Their equipment! It is that which + astonishes me. Everything is complete. They say that the + English have saved France; but the French also, they + have saved England, is it not so, Monsieur?</p> + + <p>SUBALTERN. But we are saving each other!</p> + + <p>BOURGEOIS. Good! We are saving each other! Very good! + But after the war, Monsieur, England will fight against + France, <i>hein</i>?</p> + + <p>SUBALTERN. Never!</p> + + <p>BOURGEOIS. Never?</p> + + <p>SUBALTERN. Never in life!</p> + + <p>BOURGEOIS. You think so?</p> + + <p>SUBALTERN. We do not love war. We do not seek war. It is + only when a nation is so execrable that one is compelled to + fight, as have been the Germans, that we make war.</p> + + <p>BOURGEOIS. You do not love war, eh? Before the war you + had a very small Army, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page178" + id="page178"></a>[pg 178]</span> about three hundred + thousand, is it not so? And now you have about three + million. You do not love war, you others.</p> + + <p>SUBALTERN. The Germans thought that they loved war, but + I do not believe that they will love it very much + longer!</p> + + <p>BOURGEOIS. No! The war will give them the stomach-ache. + They will love it no longer!</p> + + <p>COIFFEUR. But these English, whom did they fight before? + The Boers, was it not?</p> + + <p>SUBALTERN. Yes, but a great many English think now that + it was a <i>bêtise</i>. There was also great provocation. + And nevertheless, who knows if there was not in that affair + also a German plot?</p> + + <p>BOURGEOIS. It is very likely. Then Monsieur thinks that + we are true friends, the English and the French?</p> + + <p>SUBALTERN. But yes, Monsieur, because we love, both of + us, liberty and peace.</p> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page181" + id="page181"></a>[pg 181]</span> + <hr /> + <a name="XIV" + id="XIV"></a> + + <h2>XIV</h2> + + <h3>A PASSING IN JUNE, 1915</h3> + + <h4>PROLOGUE</h4> + + <blockquote> + <p>SCENE. <i>The parlour of an Auberge.</i></p> + + <p>PERSONS. <i>A stoist motherly</i> MADAME, <i>a wrinkled + fatherly</i> MONSIEUR, <i>and a plain but pleasant</i> + MA'MSELLE. <i>Some English soldiers drinking</i>. CECIL + <i>is talking in French to</i> MONSIEUR, <i>and they are + all very friendly</i>.</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>MADAME. Alors, vous n'avez pas encore été aux + tranchées?</p> + + <p>CECIL. Mais non, Madame, peut-être ce soir.</p> + + <p>(MONSIEUR <i>and</i> MADAME <i>exchange glances</i>. + CECIL <i>rises to + go.</i>)</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page182" + id="page182"></a>[pg 182]</span> + + <p>CECIL. À Jeudi, Monsieur, Madame, Ma'mselle.</p> + + <p>MONSIEUR, MADAME, AND MA'MSELLE (<i>in chorus</i>). À + Jeudi, Monsieur.</p> + + <p>MADAME (<i>earnestly</i>). Bon courage, Monsieur!</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>Curtain</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <h4>ACT I. DAWN</h4> + + <blockquote> + <p>CECIL <i>is discovered lying behind a wall of sandbags. + On one side are the sandbags, and on the other an idyllic + spring scene, with flowers and orchards seen in the + half-light of a spring morning. The dawn breaks gently, and + soon bullets begin to ping through the air, flattening + themselves against the sandbags, or passing over</i> + CECIL's <i>head. He wakes and yawns, and then composes + himself with his eyes open.</i></p> + + <p><i>Enter Allegorical personages</i>: FATHER SUN, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page183" + id="page183"></a>[pg 183]</span> MOTHER EARTH, <i>and a + chorus of</i> GRASSES, POPPIES, CORNFLOWERS, RAGGED + ROBINS, DAISIES, BEETLES, BEES, FLIES, <i>and insects of + all kinds.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>FATHER SUN.</p> + </div> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Wake, children, rub your eyes,</p> + + <p>Up and dance and sing and play,</p> + + <p>Not a cloud is in the skies;</p> + + <p>This is going to be <i>my</i> day.</p> + + <p>See the tiny dew-drop glisten</p> + + <p>In my glancing golden ray;</p> + + <p>See the shadows dancing, listen</p> + + <p>To the lark so blithe and gay.</p> + + <p>Up, children, dance and play,</p> + + <p>This is my own festal day.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>FLOWERS, BEETLES, ETC.</p> + </div> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i8">Dance and sing</p> + + <p class="i8">In a ring,</p> + + <p class="i2">Naughty clouds are chased away;</p> + + <p class="i8">Oh what fun,</p> + + <p class="i8">Father Sun</p> + + <p>Is going to shine the whole long day.</p> + </div> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page184" + id="page184"></a>[pg 184]</span> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>MOTHER EARTH. That's right, children. This is the day to + grow in; but don't forget to come home to dinner; I've got + such a nice dinner for you.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>The children dance away delightedly, while CECIL + watches them, fascinated.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>MOTHER EARTH. What's this absurd young man doing, + sitting behind that ugly wall? Why don't he sit under a + tree if he must sit?</p> + + <p>FATHER SUN. Oh, he's a lunatic! Must be.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(RANDOM BULLET <i>jumps over the sandbags into the + dug-out, and jibbers impotently at</i> CECIL, <i>who + glances up at him with a look of disgust.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>RANDOM BULLET. Ping! Ping. It's me he's afraid of. He + daren't stir a yard from this wall, or I'd tear his brains + out. Ping! Ping!</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page185" + id="page185"></a>[pg 185]</span> + + <p>MOTHER EARTH. Who are you, Monster?</p> + + <p>RANDOM BULLET. I'm Random Bullet. I <i>am</i> a monster, + I am! Ping!</p> + + <p>MOTHER EARTH. Who sent you, anyway?</p> + + <p>RANDOM BULLET. Why, the idiots behind the other wall, + over there! Sometimes I jump at them, and sometimes I jump + over here. I don't care which way it is; but I like tearing + their brains out, I do. I don't care which lot it is.</p> + + <p>MOTHER EARTH. What madness!</p> + + <p>FATHER SUN (<i>indignantly</i>). On my day too!</p> + + <p>RANDOM BULLET. Mad! I should think they were! Never + mind, they give me some fun! Ping! So long, I'm off, going + to jump at the other fellows, back in a second if you like + to wait.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(RANDOM BULLET <i>jumps out of sight, and</i> MOTHER + EARTH <i>and</i> FATHER SUN <i>move disgustedly + away.</i>)</p> + </blockquote><span class="pagenum"><a name="page186" + id="page186"></a>[pg 186]</span> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>CECIL (<i>getting up</i>). Mad! By God, we are mad! + Curse the war! Curse the fools who started it! Why did I + ever come out here? What a way to spend a morning in + June!</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>Curtain.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <h4>ACT II. MIDDAY</h4> + + <blockquote> + <p>SCENE. <i>The same.</i> CECIL <i>as before, but + sweltering in the sun. Enter the</i> SPIRIT OF THIRST.</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>THIRST. Oh for a drink! Water, anything! I could drink a + bath full. What a place to spend a June day in! When one + thinks of all the drinks one might be having, it is really + infuriating. Gad! The very thought of 'em makes me feel + quite poetic! Think of the great barrels of still cider in + cool Devonshire cellars! Think of the sour refreshing wine + we used <span class="pagenum"><a name="page187" + id="page187"></a>[pg 187]</span> to get in Italy! And + the iced cocktails of Colombo! And Pimm's No. 1 in the + City. Anywhere but here it's a pleasure to be a Thirst; + but here! Good Lord, it will send me off my head. How + would a bath go now, old chap? By God, don't you wish + you were back in your canoe, drawn up among the rushes + near Islip, and you just going to plunge into the cool + waters of the Char? Or think of that day you bathed in + the deep still pool at the foot of the Tamarin Falls, + with the water crashing down above you, into the deep + shady chasm. Even a dip in the sea at Mount Lavinia + wouldn't be bad now,—or, better still, a dive into + Como from a rowboat; you remember that hot summer we + went to Como? I'll tell you another thing that wouldn't + go down badly either. Do you remember a great bowl of + strawberries and cream with a huge ice in it, that you + had the day before you left school, after that hot bike + ride to Leamington? Not bad, was + it?</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page188" + id="page188"></a>[pg 188]</span> + + <p>CECIL (<i>fiercely</i>). Shut up, you beast! Oh, curse + this idiotic war! Why are we such fools?</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>Curtain.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <h4>ACT III. LATE AFTERNOON</h4> + + <blockquote> + <p>SCENE. <i>As before.</i> CECIL <i>is discovered reading + a letter from home.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>CECIL (<i>to himself</i>). Tom dead. Good Lord! What + times we have had together! Where are all the good fellows + I used to know? Half of them dead, and the rest condemned + to die! No more yachting on the broads! No more convivial + evenings at the Troc.! No more long nights spinning yarns + in Tom's old rooms in the Temple! Curse this blasted war + that robs one of everything worth having, that dulls every + sense of decency and kills all feeling for beauty, destroys + the joy of life, and mutilates one's dearest friends. Curse + it!</p> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page189" + id="page189"></a>[pg 189]</span> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>A sound as of an express train is heard, followed by + the roar of an explosion, while a dense cloud of smoke and + dust rises immediately in view of the trench.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>PORTENTOUS VOICE. Prepare to face eternity!</p> + + <p>CECIL (<i>clenching his fists</i>). Beast, loathsome + beast! Don't think I am afraid of you.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>The sounds are repeated as a second shell drops, + rather nearer. A Shadow appears round the dug-out, and + hesitates.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>CECIL (<i>to the Shadow</i>). Who is that? Is that the + Shadow of Fear?</p> + + <p>A THIN, QUAVERING VOICE. Yes, shall I come in?</p> + + <p>CECIL (<i>furiously</i>). Out of my sight, vile, + cringing wretch! Not even your shadow will I tolerate in my + presence!</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>A third shell bursts nearer still.</i>)</p> + </blockquote><span class="pagenum"><a name="page190" + id="page190"></a>[pg 190]</span> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>PORTENTOUS VOICE (<i>thunderously</i>). Set not your + affections on things below.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(CECIL <i>pauses in a listening attitude</i>).</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>CECIL (<i>more quietly, and with a new look in his + eyes</i>). I think I have forgotten + something,—something rather important.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>Enter the twin Spirits of</i> HONOUR <i>and</i> + DUTY, <i>Spirits of a very noble and courtly mien.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>CECIL (<i>simply and humbly</i>). Gentlemen, to my + sorrow and loss I had forgotten you. You are doubly + welcome.</p> + + <p>THE SPIRIT OF DUTY. Young sir, we thank you. After all, + it is but right that in this hour of danger and dismay we + should be with you.</p> + + <p>THE SPIRIT OF HONOUR. I am so old a friend of you and + yours, Cecil, that you may surely trust me. I was your + father's friend. Side by side we stood in every crisis of + his varied life. Together + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page191" + id="page191"></a>[pg 191]</span> faced the Dervish rush + at Abu Klea, and afterwards in India took our part in + many a desperate unnamed frontier tussle. I helped him + woo your mother, spoke for him when he put up for + Parliament, advised him when he visited the city. In + fact, I was his companion all through life, and I stood + beside his bed at death.</p> + + <p>THE SPIRIT OF DUTY. I too may claim to have been as much + your father's friend as was my brother. Indeed, where one + is, the other is never far away. We do agree most + wonderfully, and since our birth, no quarrel has ever + disturbed the harmony of our ways.</p> + + <p>CECIL. Gentlemen, you have recalled me to myself. I had + forgotten that I was no more a child. I wanted to dance in + the sun with the flowers, and sing with the birds, to swim + in the pool with yonder newt, and lie down to dry in the + long meadow grass among the poppies. Because I might not do + this and other things as fond + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page192" + id="page192"></a>[pg 192]</span> and foolish, I was + petulant and peevish, like a spoilt child. I look to + you, gentlemen, to help me to be a man, and play a man's + part in the world.</p> + + <p>HONOUR. We will remain at hand, call us when you need + us, we shall not fail you.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>The bombardment increases in intensity. Shrapnel + bursts overhead. Shells with increasing rapidity and + accuracy explode both short and over the trench. The hail + of bullets is continuous. An N.C.O. rushes by shouting + "Stand to"; men rush from the dug-outs and seize their + rifles</i>; CECIL, <i>like the others, grasps his rifle and + sees that it is fully loaded.</i>)</p> + + <p>(<i>Curtain.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <h4>ACT IV. SUNSET</h4> + + <blockquote> + <p>SCENE. <i>The same, but the wall of sand-bags</i> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page193" + id="page193"></a>[pg 193]</span> <i>bags is broken in + many places. The dead lie half-buried beneath them.</i> + CECIL <i>lies, badly wounded, against a gap in the wall, + his rifle by his side.</i> HONOUR <i>and</i> DUTY + <i>kneel beside him tenderly. The last rays of the sun + light up his painful smile.</i> THIRST <i>stands + gloomily over him, and the wild flowers are peeping at + him with sleepy eyes through the gap, while</i> MOTHER + EARTH <i>calls to them to go to bed.</i> FATHER SUN + <i>leans sadly over the broken parapet.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>CECIL (<i>slowly and with difficulty</i>). Honour, Duty, + I thank you. You did not fail me.</p> + + <p>HONOUR. You played the man, Cecil, as your father did + before you.</p> + + <p>DUTY. Your example it was that steadied your comrades, + and kept craven fear at a distance. You saved the + trench.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page194" + id="page194"></a>[pg 194]</span> + + <p>HONOUR. This is the beauty of manhood, to die for a good + cause. There is no fairer thing in all God's world.</p> + + <p>CECIL. I thank you. Good-night, Sun; good-night, Mother + Earth. Think kindly of me. I don't think I was mad after + all.</p> + + <p>SUN. Good-night, brave lad. (<i>To</i> MOTHER EARTH) I + can hardly bear to look on so sad a sight.</p> + + <p>CECIL. Good-night, Ragged Robins; good-night, Poppies. + You have played your game, and I mine. Only they are + different because we are different.</p> + + <p>CHORUS OF FLOWERS. Good-night, dear Cecil. We are so + very sorry that you are hurt.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>Enter the</i> MASTER, <i>flowers shyly following + him.</i> HONOUR <i>and</i> DUTY <i>raise</i> CECIL + <i>gently to a standing position.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>THE MASTER (<i>extending his arms with a loving + smile</i>). "Well done, good and faithful + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page195" + id="page195"></a>[pg 195]</span> servant. Enter thou + into the joy of thy Lord."</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(CECIL, <i>with a look of wonder and joy, is borne + forward.</i>)</p> + + <p>(<i>Curtain.</i>)</p> + </blockquote><span class="pagenum"><a name="page199" + id="page199"></a>[pg 199]</span> + <hr /> + <a name="XV" + id="XV"></a> + + <h2>XV</h2> + + <h3>MY HOME AND SCHOOL<a id="footnotetag3" + name="footnotetag3"></a><a href="#footnote3"><sup>3</sup></a></h3> + + <h3>A Fragment of Autobiography</h3> + <hr class="short" /> + + <h4>I</h4> + + <h4>MY HOME</h4> + + <p>What is one to say of home? It is difficult to know. I find + that biographers are particular about the date of birth, the + exact address of the babe, the social position and ancestry of + the parent. I suppose that it is all that they can learn. But + as an autobiographer I want to do something better; to give a + picture of the home where, as I can now see, ideals, tastes, + prejudices and habits were formed which have + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page200" + id="page200"></a>[pg 200]</span> persisted through all the + internal revolutions that have since upheaved my being.</p> + + <p>I try to form the picture in my mind, and a crowd of detail + rushes in which completely destroys its simplicity and harmony. + How hard it is to judge, even at this distance, what are the + salient features. I must try, but I know that from the point of + view of psychological development I may easily miss out the + very factors which were really most important.</p> + + <p>I remember a big house, in a row of other big houses, in a + side street leading from the East Cliff at Brighton right up to + the edge of the bare rolling downs. It was exactly like almost + every other house in that part of Brighton—stucco + fronted, with four stories and a basement, three windows in + front on each of the upper stories, and two windows and a door + on the ground floor and basement. At the back was a small + garden, with flower beds surrounding a square of gravel, and a + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page201" + id="page201"></a>[pg 201]</span> tricycle house in one + corner. There was a back door in this garden, which gave on + to a street of cottages. This back door was a point of + strategic importance.</p> + + <p>But I need not describe the house in detail. It was exactly + like thousands of other houses built in the beginning of the + nineteenth century. High, respectable, ugly and rather + inconvenient, with many stairs, two or three big rooms, a lot + of small ones and no bathroom. It was essentially a family + house, intended for people of moderate means and large + families. Nowadays they build houses which are prettier, and + have bathrooms; but they are not meant for large families.</p> + + <p>We were a large family, and a fairly noisy one. Moreover, we + were singularly self-sufficing. We hadn't many friends, we + didn't entertain much, we had dinner in the middle of the day, + and supper in the evening.</p> + + <p>There was my father who was a recluse, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page202" + id="page202"></a>[pg 202]</span> my mother who was + essentially our mother, the two girls and four boys. I was + an afterthought, being seven years younger than my next + brother, who for seven years had been called B. (for baby), + and couldn't escape from it even after my appearance.</p> + + <p>In addition to these, B. and I both had inseparable friends, + who lived within a stone's throw. Ronnie was my <i>alter + ego</i> till I was fourteen: so much so that I had no other + friend. Even now, though our ways have kept us apart, and our + interests and opinions are fundamentally different, we can sit + in each other's rooms with perfect content. We know too much of + each other for it to be possible to pretend to be what we are + not. We sit and are ourselves, naked and unashamed so to speak, + and it is very restful.</p> + + <p>Pictures float before my mind. Let me select a few. I see a + rather fat, stolid little boy in a big airy nursery at the top + of the house, sitting in the middle of the + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page203" + id="page203"></a>[pg 203]</span> floor playing with bricks. + Outside it is gusty and wet, and the small boy hopes that he + will be allowed to stay in all the afternoon, and play with + bricks. But that is not to be. A small thin man, with gentle + grey eyes, short curly beard, an old black greatcoat and a + black square felt hat, comes in. The child must have some + air. The child is resentful, but resigned, is wrapped up + well, put in his pram and wheeled up and down the Madeira + Road.</p> + + <p>"Pa" didn't appear very much except on some such errand; but + "Ma" was in and out all the time. "Ma" was everything, the only + woman who has ever had my whole love, my whole trust and has + made my heart ache with the desire to show my love.</p> + + <p>A later picture. The boy is bigger, and not so fat. He no + longer has a nurse. He has vacated the nursery, which is now + tenanted by his big sisters. He has a little room all his own: + a very small room, <span class="pagenum"><a name="page204" + id="page204"></a>[pg 204]</span> looking west. The + south-west gales beat upon the window in the winter, and not + so far away is the roar of the sea. It is good to curl up in + a nice warm little bed, and listen to the howling of the + wind and the waves.</p> + + <p>In the morning come lessons from his eldest sister G. The + schoolroom has rings and a trapeze, a bookshelf full of boys' + books, and cupboards full of stone bricks, cannon and soldiers. + The boy's mind is set on bricks and soldiers. Lessons and walks + with "Ma" and his sisters or Ronnie and his nurse down the town + are a nuisance. They interfere with the building of cathedrals + and the settling of the destinies of nations by the arbitrament + of war.</p> + + <p>It was a stolid, placid boy, intensely wrapt up in his + cathedrals and his generals, intensely devoted to "Ma," and + regarding all else as rather a nuisance. Ronnie he liked. He + liked going to tea with him, and going walks with him and his + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page205" + id="page205"></a>[pg 205]</span> nurse; but they didn't have + much in common except cricket. Ronnie had big soldiers which + could not be knocked down by cannon balls, and which + couldn't make history because they were few in number, and + nearly all English. Mine were of every European power, and + many Asiatic ones. They were diminutive and numerous, could + take shelter in a forest of pine cones and were admirably + suited to be mown down at the cannon's mouth. The King of + England was a person with a fine figure. He had one leg and + one arm, and the plume of his dragoon's helmet was shorn + off; but his slight, erect figure still looked noble on a + stately white palfrey. The French armies were usually + commanded by Marshal Petit, a gay fellow with his full + complement of limbs, who sat a horse well. He had a younger + brother almost equally distinguished. I have no recollection + of a King of France. He must have been a poor fellow. The + Sultan of Turkey, the Khedive, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page206" + id="page206"></a>[pg 206]</span> and Li Hung Chang still + live in my memory as persons of distinction; but I have no + personal recollection of the Tsar, or the Emperors of + Germany or Austria, or of the King of Italy, though I know + they existed.</p> + + <p>Into this placid existence turmoil would enter three times a + year. The elder brothers, Hugh, Tommy and B., would come home + for the holidays from Sandhurst and Rugby, and R. would appear, + and become almost one of the family. Then would occur troublous + times, with a few advantages and many disadvantages.</p> + + <p>"Tommy" was a curiously solitary youth as I remember him, + who played the 'cello with great perseverance and considerable + success. At soldiers he was something of a genius, though his + games were of an intricacy which failed to commend itself to me + altogether. In his great soldier days he not only made history, + but wrote it—a height to which I never + attained.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page207" + id="page207"></a>[pg 207]</span> + + <p>In the holidays, cricket in the back garden became a great + feature, and Tommy was a demon bowler. I fancy, too, that the + very elaborate but highly satisfactory form of the game must + have originated with him. In the back garden we not merely + played cricket, but made history—cricket history. Two + county sides were written out, and we batted alternately for + the various cricketers, doing our best to imitate their styles. + We bowled also in a rough imitation of the styles of the county + bowlers whom we represented. This arrangement secured us + against personal rivalry, kept up a tremendous interest in + first-class cricket and enabled matches to continue, if + necessary, for weeks at a time. It encouraged, too, a fair, + impersonal and unprejudiced view of outside events.</p> + + <p>In cricket, war and music we undoubtedly benefited by the + holidays, especially in the summer, when we used to go to the + country, often occupying a school-house + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page208" + id="page208"></a>[pg 208]</span> with gym, cricket nets and + a fair-sized garden. Ecclesiastical architecture suffered, + however....</p> + + <p>Hugh was a great and glorious person, a towering beneficent + despot when he did appear.... As for me I adored him with + whole-hearted hero-worship. He was the "protector of the poor," + who kept the rest of us in order. He was a magnificent person + who revolutionized the art of war by the introduction of + explosives. He was a tremendous walker, and first taught me to + love great tramps over the downs, to sniff appreciatively the + glorious air and to love their bare, storm-swept outlines. Hugh + stood for all that is wholesome, strenuous, out of doors in my + life. Without him I should have been a mere sedentary. Among + other things he was an enthusiastic boxer and gymnast. For + these pursuits I sturdily feigned enthusiasm and suppressed + timidity.</p> + + <p>A few more pictures. First, Sunday + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page209" + id="page209"></a>[pg 209]</span> morning. Gertrude goes off + to Sunday School. She likes teaching and bossing. Hilda and + Hugh, who are greater pals than brother and sister can often + be, go off to St. James', where there will be good music and + an interesting sermon. Tommy goes to St. Mark's, a good + Protestant place, or to the beach, where curious and + recondite doctrines are weekly disputed. B. goes to St. + George's, protesting. There is plenty of room for his hat, + there is a congenially aggressive spirit against Rome and it + slightly irritates Ma. Pa is not up yet. Ma and I go to All + Souls', because it is the nearest poor church, and Ma finds + it easier to worship where there are no pew rents, and the + seats are uncushioned, and there are few rich people. I am + ever loyal to Ma.</p> + + <p>I often wonder whether the reason why my family are all + Churchgoers now is not that at that time we could choose our + church.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page210" + id="page210"></a>[pg 210]</span> + + <p>The next picture is Sunday night. "Pa" and I, and perhaps + some of the other boys, set out for St. Paul's, at the other + end of the town. Then, after the service, follows an immense + walk all through the slums of the town. We talk of Australia, + where Pa once had a sheep run; of theology, of the past and the + future. This weekly walk is something of a privilege, and + rather solemn. It makes me feel older.</p> + + <p>It is spring. I am at Rugby, and in the "San" with + ophthalmia. The South African war is raging. Hugh is there. I + am told that Hugh is dead. He has been shot in a glorious but + futile charge at Paardeberg. I can't realize it. I am an object + of interest, of envy almost, to the whole school. The flag is + half-mast because my brother is dead. Every one is kind, + touched. I put on an air as of a martyr.</p> + + <p>I get a heartbroken letter from my mother. Will I come home? + Or hadn't <span class="pagenum"><a name="page211" + id="page211"></a>[pg 211]</span> I better go to Uncle + Jack's? If I go home we shall make each other worse. It is + better for me than for Maurice, who is with the fleet in the + Mediterranean with no one to comfort him.</p> + + <p>Ma has had a great shock. She feels it desperately. She + thinks all the others feel it as much. Except Hilda, we don't. + There is a huge piece taken out of Ma's life and Hilda's life, + because they were so unselfishly devoted to Hugh. Pa, also, has + lost much, but he is a philosopher.</p> + + <p>I go to Uncle Jack's and shoot rabbits. The holidays come + and go. Tommy is at Oxford; I am at Rugby. Pa is immersed in + theological speculation about the next world; B. is in the + Mediterranean. Ma sends Gertrude and Hilda away for a long + change. They go, and come back. Something about Ma frightens + them. She and Pa come near Rugby and stay with Uncle Jack. The + holidays come. I learn that for the first time for about twenty + years Ma <span class="pagenum"><a name="page212" + id="page212"></a>[pg 212]</span> is to go away without Pa. I + am to meet her at Hereford, and we are to go to Wales. Ma + forgets things. She is more loving than ever, but her memory + is going. We go to communion together in the little village + church.</p> + + <p>A few weeks later. We are back in Brighton. An Australian + uncle and family are staying with us. Ma is ill in bed. I get + up at 6 A.M., tramp over the downs and in a place I wot of, + some five miles away, I gather heather for Ma. I run. I get + back by 8.30. I find my uncle and cousins getting into a cab. + Some one says, "How lovely! Are these for me?" I grip them in + despair. They are for Ma. "Quite right," says someone. A day or + two later my heather was placed, still blooming, on Ma's + grave.</p> + + <p>I was sixteen then. Six years later I return home from + abroad. Within a few weeks of my return I am sitting in Pa's + room in agony, listening to him fight for breath. The fight at + last weakens. I <span class="pagenum"><a name="page213" + id="page213"></a>[pg 213]</span> hear him whisper, "Help! + help!" I set my teeth. The others come in. There is silence. + All is over. I am given my father's ring. It is my most + treasured possession.</p> + + <p>Henceforth all I have left of home is Hilda, for she alone + is unmarried. Ever since my mother's death she has been my + confidante. As far as was possible she has taken Ma's place in + my life, and I have taken Hugh's place in hers. We are + substitutes. For that reason as we get older we get to know + each other better, and to know better how much we can give to + each other. There is more criticism between us than there would + have been between Ma and me, and Hilda and Hugh. But it has its + advantages. We live apart, but we correspond weekly, and + holiday together. It is all that is left of home, and it is + infinitely precious.</p> + + <p>Now that I have written these pages I can see as I have + never seen before how much the child was father of the man. + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page214" + id="page214"></a>[pg 214]</span> Since those home days I + have had more variety of experience perhaps than falls to + the lot of most men, and I would almost say more varied and + more epoch-making friendships. Yet in these pages that I + have written I seem to see all the essential and salient + features of my character already mirrored and formed.</p> + + <p>I am still by nature lethargic and placid. I could still + occupy myself contentedly With bricks and soldiers, art and + history, and trouble no one. But there is still that other + element, instilled by Hugh—a love of the open air, of + struggle with the elements, in lonely desert places.</p> + + <p>I have never lost the craving for true religion, which + induced my mother to go to a poor church to worship, and to + visit the drunken and helpless in their slums. I have never + lost the desire for her singleness of mind, and simple loyalty + to Christ and His Church. At the same time I have never lost my + father's inquiring spirit, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page215" + id="page215"></a>[pg 215]</span> broad view, love of + doctrine tempered by reason and founded on history and + tested by human experience. When these two beloved ones + passed from this world I learnt the meaning of the text, + "Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also." My + heart has never been wholly in this world.</p> + + <p>So, too, I have always been a man of few friends. Ronnie has + had many successors; but seldom more than one at a time. I have + never cared much for society. My father and mother neither of + them attached much importance to conventions, or to the + fictitious values which society puts on clothes or money or + position. I have always looked rather for some one to admire, + some one whose ideals and personality were congenial, whatever + their position or occupation. I have also, on the whole, always + preferred comfort to show, simple to elaborate living. This I + trace to the simple comfort and naturalness of my old home.</p> + + <blockquote class="footnote"> + <a id="footnote3" + name="footnote3"></a><b>Footnote 3:</b> + <a href="#footnotetag3">(return)</a> + + <p>"A Student" left a great deal of manuscript, among which + this fragment of autobiography is not the least + interesting.</p> + </blockquote><span class="pagenum"><a name="page216" + id="page216"></a>[pg 216]</span> + + <h4>II</h4> + + <h4>SCHOOL</h4> + + <p>I went to a day school kept by Ronnie's father when I was + nine. At least, it was a day school for me; but nearly all the + boys were boarders. I worked fairly hard, and got prizes. I was + fairly good at cricket, and not much good at football. I had + only one friend—Ronnie—and about two enemies, both + of whom were day boys, and whom I should have liked to have + fought if I had dared. My memories of the school are few. I + best remember leaving home, and going back, and also playing + cricket. Ronnie's father lives as a just and straightforward + gentleman, who never caned a boy except for what was mean or + dirty, and whom we all <span class="pagenum"><a name="page217" + id="page217"></a>[pg 217]</span> loved and respected. But + then I have known and loved him and his wife all my life. If + our house was a second home to Ronnie, theirs has always + been a second home to me.</p> + + <p>There was one master whom I liked, and who perhaps did + something to develop my character. He was fond of poetry and + history, and from him I learnt—an easy lesson for + me—to love history; but what is more, he first gave me a + glimmering idea, which was to develop long after, that the + classics are literature, and not torture.</p> + + <p>I left there to go to Rugby.</p> + + <p>Never did a boy enter Rugby with better chances. The memory + of my three brothers still lived in the house. They had all + achieved distinction in games, and been leading prefects (or + sixths as they are called at Rugby) in the house. Many masters + remembered them for good, particularly Jacky, the housemaster, + who had loved them all, especially + Hugh.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page218" + id="page218"></a>[pg 218]</span> + + <p>In addition to this, one of the leading fellows in the + house, who was afterwards to be captain of the school fifteen + and cricket eleven, lieutenant in the corps, and one of the + racquet pair, had been at my private school. I shared a study + with another fellow who had been at my private school. Two boys + accompanied me from there, one of whom was my next best friend + to Ronnie. His parents were in India, and he had spent some of + his holidays with Ronnie and me.</p> + + <p>But though I loved Rugby and was happy there, I can't say I + was a success. I made few friends, who have since, with one + exception, drifted out of my life. I was too timid to enjoy + Rugger. I never achieved distinction at cricket. I got into the + sixth my last term, but hadn't the force of character to enjoy + the prefectural powers which that fact conferred upon me. The + fact is that I left when I was 16, and it is between 16 and 18 + that the <span class="pagenum"><a name="page219" + id="page219"></a>[pg 219]</span> full enjoyment of school + life comes and boys reap the harvest they have sown. Had I + stayed another year I should have belonged to the leading + generation, strengthened my friendships and developed what + was latent in my character. As it was, I left at an + unfortunate age. I was pushed into the sixth a year before + my contemporaries. My friendships were only half formed, and + I had only just begun to feel strength of body and mind + developing in me.</p> + + <p>As a junior I was too conscientious, and not light-hearted + enough. I hardly had any adventures at Rugby, because I had an + incurable instinct for keeping rules. I worked hard at + mathematics and French, and my report generally read, "Good + ability. Might exert himself more." At classics and chemistry I + did as little work as possible, and any report generally read, + "Hard-working but not bright."</p> + + <p>On the whole I think I was pretty happy at Rugby; but I + never look back to my <span class="pagenum"><a name="page220" + id="page220"></a>[pg 220]</span> school days as the happiest + part of my life. I have had many happier times since. But + still, my house was a good one. Jacky, the housemaster, was + wonderfully kind and wise. He hardly ever interfered with + the affairs of the house, but left it all—in + appearance—to the "Sixths." Actually, nothing escaped + him. The tone of the house was on the whole extraordinarily + clean and wholesome, and the fellows who had dirty minds + were a small minority, and easily avoided. At all events, + very little of that sort of thing reached me.</p> + + <p>At sixteen and a half I went to the Royal Military Academy + at Woolwich, commonly known as "the Shop." There I spent the + two most miserable years of my life, and made the second of my + great friendships. In these days the Shop was still a pretty + rough place, and at the moment it was unusually full. I think + there were over 300 fellows there altogether, and there were + about 70 in my term. My first + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page221" + id="page221"></a>[pg 221]</span> experience was unfortunate. + I was interviewing the Adjutant, a keen sportsman and a bit + of a tartar. He eyed me unfavourably, asked what games I + could play, and when I replied that I had no great + proficiency in any he commented, "Humph, a + good-for-nothing!" and dismissed me.</p> + + <p>I am by nature slow, stolid and clumsy. I was bad at being + "smart"; I was slow and clumsy at drill; map making and + geometrical drawing were physical impossibilities to me; I was + incredibly slow and stupid at machinery, mechanism and + electricity. The only subject which interested me was military + history. In my first term I dropped from about forty-fourth to + about seventieth in my class, and I kept near the bottom until + my fourth term, when I failed in my electricity exam., and had + to stay one term more. In the same term I received a prize for + the best essay on the lessons of the South African + War.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page222" + id="page222"></a>[pg 222]</span> + + <p>Oh, the misery of those terms at Woolwich! I hated the work, + the drill, the gym and even the riding school. I hated the + officers, and above all I hated the spirit of the place. As far + as I remember, the one eternal topic of conversation and + subject of "wit" was the sexual relation. Of course the boys + had never been taught sensibly anything about it. Consequently + the place was continually circulated with filthy books, + pictures, stories, etc. When I went there I was extraordinarily + innocent, and devoid of curiosity. I had been recently the more + disposed to purity through the death of my mother. At Woolwich + I remained extraordinarily innocent and uncurious, letting the + poisonous stream flow continually by me, shrinking from its + stench, and finding more and more relief in my own company. I + must have been a very unpleasant person at that time.</p> + + <p>One friend I had. He was a small, compact, keen, and capable + little Rugbian <span class="pagenum"><a name="page223" + id="page223"></a>[pg 223]</span> named F——. He + was like me in that he had recently lost his parents, and + was interested in religion and philosophy in a boyish way. + Unlike me he rather enjoyed Woolwich. He had a lot of + friends, was keen on riding and on a good deal of the work, + and generally speaking plunged into life, taking the rough + with the smooth, and both in good part. Although we have + drifted far apart in ideals and sympathies, and though + misunderstanding has come in and destroyed our friendship, I + shall never cease to be grateful for all that + F—— did for me in those days. He routed me out + when I was in the blues, laughed at me, cheered me up and + made me look at life with new eyes. Moreover he did this, as + I know, in defiance of the set with whom he was friendly, + who despised me for a milksop, and were at no pains to + conceal the fact. But for F——, my life at the + Shop would have been intolerable.</p> + + <p>Besides him, I had a few associates, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page224" + id="page224"></a>[pg 224]</span> boys with whom I naturally + associated for the simple reason that they, too, were left + out of the main current of the life of the place. But they + were not particularly congenial. One or two were hard + workers. One was a great slacker, and more timid, physically + and morally, than even I. He was a boy with a fatal facility + for doing useless things moderately well, especially in the + musical line. He was even more frightened of gym and horses + than I was, and unlike me was not ashamed to show it. If the + Shop was purgatory to me, it must have been hell to him.</p> + + <p>My happiest times were week-ends spent at home. I used to + arrive on Saturday evening and leave on Sunday evening. About + now I began to get to know my father much better, and to + develop my theological bent under his advice. In my + disillusionment as to my capacity for military life I began to + wish I had chosen the clerical profession. I think + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page225" + id="page225"></a>[pg 225]</span> my father had the + shrewdness to see that failure in one profession was not + necessarily the sign of a "call" in another direction. + Anyway, he did not discourage me; but spoke of five years in + the Army as the best training for a parson.</p> + + <p>I remember avowing my intention of becoming a parson to one + of my more friendly acquaintances at the Shop, and he replied + that I wouldn't set the Thames on fire, because I had such a + monotonous voice.</p> + + <p>In spite of seeking relief from my uncongenial surroundings + in religion and theology, I did not join myself to any one + else. There was a so-called "Pi Squad," or Bible class, held + weekly, but I only went once, and didn't like it. I was always + peculiarly sensitive about priggishness in those who professed + themselves to be religious openly, and generally thought I + detected priggishness in any "Bible circle" or similar + institution that I came across. I think my theology + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page226" + id="page226"></a>[pg 226]</span> mainly consisted in + speculations about the future state—I remember I + emphatically declined to believe in hell—and my + religion consisted mainly in fairly regular attendance at + Matins and Communion.</p> + + <p>Another effect of the intensity with which I hated my + surroundings was that I read a lot of good novels—George + Eliot, the Brontës, Scott, Dickens, Jane Austen, Thackeray, + Besant, etc. A book which I read over and over again was Arthur + Benson's <i>Hill of Trouble, and other Stories</i>. Those + legends, with their imaginative setting, charm of language and + beautiful religious ideas were more restful to my unquiet + spirit than anything else I read.</p> + + <p>The actual conditions of life at the Shop were pretty + barbaric. The aim was to make it as much like barracks as + possible. Each term was housed in a different side of the + square of buildings which form the Academy, and the fourth term + were spread among the houses of the other terms as + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page227" + id="page227"></a>[pg 227]</span> corporals. My first term I + shared a room with three other fellows. I think it was the + ugliest room I have ever lived in, without exception. It had + high whitewashed brick walls. In each corner was a bed which + folded up against the wall in the day time, and was + concealed by a square of print curtains. There were a deal + table, four windsor chairs, a shelf with four basins, and a + cupboard with four lockers. All the woodwork was painted + khaki. The contrast with the little study at Rugby, with its + diamond-paned window, its matchboard panelling surmounted by + a paper of one's own choosing, its ledge for photos and + ornaments ("bim ledge" so called), its eggshell blue + cupboards, baize curtains and window box, was striking.</p> + + <p>It used to be the custom to go to and from the bathroom + attired in a sponge, in connexion with which an amusing + incident once happened.</p> + + <p>A cadet in his second year was on the + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page228" + id="page228"></a>[pg 228]</span> bathroom landing, when he + perceived that the mother and sisters of another cadet were + coming upstairs. From sounds in the bathroom he realized + that they would meet a naked corporal just as they reached + the landing. The door of the bathroom opened outwards, and + with admirable presence of mind he rushed back, and putting + his back against the door and his feet against the wall, + imprisoned the corporal. The corporal, in the approved Shop + version of Billingsgate, began to blaspheme at the top of + his voice, so when the ladies reached the top of the stairs + they saw a vision of a cadet with his feet to the wall and + his back to a door singing at the top of his voice to drown + a Commotion within!</p> + + <p>On another occasion in my second year, when I was sharing a + room with one other fellow, I had a sister to tea. On arriving + in my room I found that my stablemate had been playing hockey, + and was at the moment in the bathroom, having thoughtlessly + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page229" + id="page229"></a>[pg 229]</span> left all his clothes in the + room—mostly on the floor.</p> + + <p>On the last day of my first term the corporals and officers + were all absent at a farewell dinner to the former, and we + received information that the third term were going to raid our + house, with a view to "toshing" us in a cold bath. We therefore + prepared for action. Every receptacle which would hold water + was taken to the upper landing, full. Then all the chairs in + the house were roped together, and placed on the stairs as an + obstacle. The defenders then took up their position at the + windows and at the top of the stairs. In due course the enemy's + forces arrived, and stormed the stairs, under a heavy fire of + water. The obstacle was at length destroyed, and a solid + phalanx of wet bodies swarmed up the stairs. We formed a + similar phalanx and charged to meet them. I happened to be + first, and much to my discomfiture + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page230" + id="page230"></a>[pg 230]</span> the enemy's phalanx parted + in the middle, and I was rapidly passed down the + stairs—a prisoner! Fortunately at the bottom I found a + relieving party from the next house, making a diversion on + the enemy's rear. With great valour we dragged down a foe, + and toshed him in the bath that had been made ready for us. + "The tosher toshed!"</p> + + <p>The next day we surveyed the damage. All the chairs and + banisters were broken, the whitewash was rubbed off the bricks + by wet shoulders and nearly all the basins were broken. That + day was the day of Lord Roberts's half-yearly inspection!</p> + + <p>There was not such another battle until my third term, when + we were the aggressors. This time the damage was even greater, + for the defenders let down tables across the stairs as an + obstacle, and we battered our way through with scaffolding + poles. There were some casualties that day, owing to an + indiscriminate use of mop + handles.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page231" + id="page231"></a>[pg 231]</span> + + <p>On the day of Lord Roberts's inspection we had to change + from parade dress to gym dress, and it was during the change + that Lord Roberts inspected our quarters. He went into one room + and found a fellow just half-way through his change—with + nothing at all on! The room was called to attention, and with + great presence of mind the boy dashed into the bed curtains and + stood to attention there, while Lord Roberts had an animated + conversation with him!</p> + + <p>There were jolly moments in the life at the Shop. On + Saturdays, after dinner, the unfortunates who had not got away + for the week-end used to have "stodges" after dinner. Having + put away a substantial dinner, we changed into flannels, and + used to crowd into some one's room, and eat muffins and smoke + cigars. I remember one night there were eighteen of us in one + small room.</p> + + <p>In order to go away for a week-end one + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page232" + id="page232"></a>[pg 232]</span> had to obtain (1) an + invitation, (2) permission from parent or guardian to accept + the invitation. One week my brother, who was working at the + Admiralty, offered his flat to myself and F——, + as he was going to Brighton himself. Fleming wrote to his + guardian—a Scotsman—for permission to stay with + Captain Hankey. The guardian wrote back for more + information. He saw by the Army List that Captain Hankey + existed, but who were the Hankeys? etc., etc. + F—— wrote back a furious letter, saying that he + expected to have his friends accepted without question, and + received the permission. We went. The awkward thing was that + Captain Hankey was not there, and we shuddered to think of + the rage of F——'s guardian if he should find + out. Worse still, the guardian was supposed to be staying at + the Oriental Club in Hanover Square, and my brother's flat + was in Oxford Street! However, we didn't + meet.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page233" + id="page233"></a>[pg 233]</span> + + <p>F—— and I neither of us knew London, and had the + time of our lives. We dined at Frascati's—a palace of + splendour in our eyes—and went to His Majesty's to see + Beerbohm Tree in Ulysses. When it came to Hades, we held each + other's hands! On Sunday we went to St. Peter's, Vere Street, + but were so furious at being kept waiting for pew holders long + after service had commenced, that we went on to the Audley + Street Chapel, a most queer little place. It was full of + monuments to the dependents of peers, in which the peers + figured very largely and the dependents fared humbly—the + epitome of flunkeydom. Among these tablets was one + inscribed—</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"To John Wilkes,</p> + + <p>Friend of Liberty."</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>Truly refreshing!</p> + + <p>We finished the day at some old friends of mine, and voted + the week-end a huge + success.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page234" + id="page234"></a>[pg 234]</span> + + <p>When I went to Woolwich I was just on the verge of getting + keen on games and beginning to feel self-confident, and to + enjoy the fellowship of my comrades. Woolwich nipped this in + the bud. I left with no self-confidence, having renounced + games, and with a sense of solitariness among my comrades. I + was a misanthrope, and the unhappiest sort of egotist—the + kind that dislikes himself. To say the truth, too, I was then, + and always have been, a bit of a funk, physically, which didn't + make me happier. On the other hand, I was an omnivorous reader + of everything which did not concern my profession, and a + dabbler in military history.</p> + + <p>I have sometimes thought that I was unconsciously a bit of a + hero at Woolwich, standing out for purity and religion in an + atmosphere of filth and blasphemy. I have come to the + conclusion, however, that there was nothing in this. As to the + general atmosphere, there is no doubt that it was + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page235" + id="page235"></a>[pg 235]</span> singularly pernicious; even + the officers and instructors contributed their quota of + filthy jokes, and there was no religious instruction or + influence at all except the parade service at the garrison + church on Sunday, if one happened not to be on leave. But as + to my heroism I am reluctantly compelled to be sceptical. I + went as far as I felt my inclination, and stopped after a + time because instinct was too strong the other way.</p> + + <p>As I have said before, I have always had an insurmountable + instinct for keeping rules. At school I could never bring + myself to transgress, although I knew that transgression was + the road to adventure. So at the Shop, however much I may have + wished to be in the swim, my instinct for the moral and + religious code of home was too strong for me. It required no + self-control to prevent myself from slipping into blasphemy and + filth. On the contrary, in order to do so I should have had to + violate my strongest instincts, and exercised a + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page236" + id="page236"></a>[pg 236]</span> will to evil much stronger + than any will power that I possessed at that time. If, when + I left Woolwich, I was comparatively pure, it was because + nature did not allow me to be anything else.</p> + + <p>To say the truth, I have never felt the sway of passions to + anything like the same extent as most men seem to. I have never + cared for the society of women for its sexual attraction. + Consequently all my women friends have been just the same to me + as my men friends—friends whom I could talk to about the + things that interested me.</p> + + <p>I don't boast of this, I only state the fact. I am not proud + of it because I know that some passion is necessary to make + heroes and even + saints.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page237" + id="page237"></a>[pg 237]</span> + <hr /> + <a name="SOME" + id="SOME"></a> + + <h2>SOME NOTES ON THE FRAGMENT OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY BY "HILDA"</h2> + + <p>I have before me as I write a pencil sketch, limned with + considerable care, of a rather disagreeable looking young man, + and beneath it is written—</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"D.W.A.H., by Himself."</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>It is a profile. The eye has almost disappeared under the + brow, the mouth is tightly closed to a degree that is quite + unpleasant and there is a deliberate exaggeration of a slight + defect he actually had—a tendency for the lower jaw to + protrude a little. This little defect hardly any of his friends + seem to have noticed, for most of them execrate it as a libel + in the otherwise admittedly beautiful photograph at the + beginning of this volume. The expression in the sketch is above + all—dubious.</p> + + <p>So did Donald see + himself.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page238" + id="page238"></a>[pg 238]</span> + + <p>For the rest of us no doubt the lessons Mr. Haselden has for + us in his caricatures, "ourselves as we see ourselves" and "as + others see us," are necessary. But not for Donald. The drawing + is pasted into an album which contains mainly Oxford College + groups, and there is a certain unpleasant resemblance between + it and his full face presentment in one of the groups—in + which he has "the group expression" rather badly. Assuming it + to have been drawn at Oxford, or not very long after he left, I + think it must belong very nearly to a time when he was going + off abroad on one of his long trips, and I had the sympathy of + a dear old lady friend of ours on having to part with him. I + remember replying, "Yes, it always seems as if peace and + happiness, truth and justice, religion and piety went with him + when he goes!" She laughed a good deal, and then said, + seriously, repeating over to herself the stately mounting + sixteenth century phrases, "But it's quite true, you know!" I + hardly think, though, that I should have said it of the young + man in the sketch!</p> + + <p>I am now going to make a comment or + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page239" + id="page239"></a>[pg 239]</span> two on my brother's + word-pictures as I should if he were by my side. But first I + should like his readers to know and realize that both were + written before the period of what I may call Donald's + "Renaissance," a period that can be roughly marked by the + publication of his first book, <i>The Lord of all Good + Life</i>.</p> + + <p>Up to then he had been struggling in vain for + self-expression. How he had worked the amount of MSS. he has + left alone proves—for we have it on a friend's testimony + that "he tore up much of what he wrote"; and he also had + experienced and suffered, violating his natural "timidity" and + his in some ways, precarious health, for he had never got over + certain weaknesses engendered by his illness in + Mauritius—in his struggle to get a true basis for a + solution of the meaning of life and of religion. What cost him + most was the knowledge that he was frequently doubted and + misunderstood by many of those whose approbation would have + been very dear to him. This is proved by his constantly + expressed gratitude to the one or two who never doubted him for + one moment.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page240" + id="page240"></a>[pg 240]</span> + + <p>With the writing of this book, as we know, all his + difficulties began to clear away, and at the same time he began + to reap the harvest of love and admiration that he had sown in + his toils to produce it. And the result was he opened out like + a flower to the sun! No one can doubt this for a moment who has + read his book of a year later, <i>The Student in Arms</i>, and + rejoiced in the radiant happiness of its inspiration.</p> + + <p>He had more than once said to me during the past two years, + "You know it makes a <i>tremendous</i> difference to me when + people really <i>like</i> me." No longer was it a case of "one + friend at a time." The period for that was over and done with. + He had come into his own. He was ready for a universal + brotherhood, and no hand would ever be held out to him in + vain.</p> + + <p>It is impossible to believe that he does not now know of and + appreciate all the beautiful tributes that have come to him + since his "passing"—from the perfect wreath of + immortelles weaved by Mr. Strachey to the sweet pansy of + thought dropped by a little fellow V.A.D. of mine + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page241" + id="page241"></a>[pg 241]</span> who said beautifully and + courageously—though knowing him solely through his + book—"We feel since he gave us his thought that he + belongs a tiny bit to us, too," thus voicing the feeling of + many.</p> + + <p>I believe the paper entitled "My Home" to have been written + at Oxford, and "School" not so very long after. In any case, I + have definite proof of their both belonging to Donald's + pre-"Renaissance" period, for the friendship with + F——, that began at "the Shop" and went under a + cloud for a time, was renewed with fresh vigour in 1914, and + has burned brightly ever since. Only last July was I sent by + him a letter of F——'s from the trenches, with the + injunction, "Please put this among my treasures," and there is + an allusion to a story told in this letter in the article + entitled "Romance" of the present volume.</p> + + <p>To return to "My Home," I question whether the love and + devotion of "Hilda" and "Ma" for Hugh was so entirely + unselfish. For my mother I fully believe, as for "Hilda," Hugh + was the epitome of all that was fine, splendid and joyous in + life. He was the glorious knight, the "preux + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page242" + id="page242"></a>[pg 242]</span> chevalier" "sans peur et + sans reproche," who rode forth at dawn with clean sword and + shining armour, and all the world before him, yet keeping + his heart for ever in his home. He was the child of her + youth as Donald was the child of her maturity. Deep down in + her wonderfully varied nature there were certain bottomless + springs of courage, daring and enterprise which she herself + had little chance of expressing and of which Hugh alone was + the personification.</p> + + <p>As long as I can remember Hugh had been my ideal and made + all the interest and joy of life for me. Whether he were at + home or abroad I never had a thought I did not share with him. + When he died, the best part of me died too, or was paralysed + rather, and Heaven knows what sort of a "substitute" I should + have been for "Ma" to Donald, had not the baby Hugh come, just + in time, with healing in his wings to restore life to the best + part of me!</p> + + <p>I am glad to think that Donald's "Autobiography" was written + before 1914, for I know that even before that I was becoming + more to him than a "substitute." I too have my memories and + pictures!</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page243" + id="page243"></a>[pg 243]</span> + + <p>It is May, 1915. I am in the country-house—cleaning is + going on at home.</p> + + <p>I get a letter to say that the Rifle Brigade may leave for + France at any time, and that Donald <i>may</i> get some "leave" + on Saturday or Sunday.</p> + + <p>I make a dash for town.</p> + + <p>There I find a telegram of reckless and unconscionable + length, running into two pages. He cannot come up—they + may leave at any moment. It seems hardly worth while my + bothering to come to Aldershot on the chance—he may be + unable to leave barracks.</p> + + <p>I write a return telegram—also of reckless and + unconscionable length, and reply paid—it is a relief to + do so—asking for a place of meeting at Aldershot to be + suggested.</p> + + <p>I get no answer at all, and on Sunday morning, in despair, I + go over to see my aunt and cousin. My aunt is my mother's + sister and a sportswoman. She counsels, "Go at all costs." + Dorothy will come with me: Dorothy is Donald's best woman + pal—she reminds him of his mother. She is all that is + wholesome and + comportable.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page244" + id="page244"></a>[pg 244]</span> + + <p>The element of enjoyment comes in, and I go home and pack a + nice lunch.</p> + + <p>We arrive at Aldershot.</p> + + <p>There is no one on the platform to meet us, and we push our + way through the turnstile.</p> + + <p>There is Donald, on the outskirts of the waiting + crowd—a tall, soldierly figure in the uniform of a + private—for he has resigned his sergeant's stripes by + now.</p> + + <p>His face is very boyish—not the face of the photograph + at the beginning of this book: that was taken after he had been + to France, and had been wounded, and had written "A Passing in + June," and "The Honour of the Brigade"—but a much younger + face, really boyish.</p> + + <p>He glances quickly and anxiously at every face that passes, + and each time he is a little more disappointed—but he + tries not to show it.</p> + + <p>I am not tall and cannot catch his eye. It is like being at + a play, watching him! All at once he sees me! Involuntarily a + sudden quick spasm of joy passes across his face, absolutely + transfiguring it.</p> + + <p>He smooths it away quickly, for he is a + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page245" + id="page245"></a>[pg 245]</span> Briton and does not like to + show his feelings—but he has given himself away!</p> + + <p>Dorothy and I shall never forget that look. And it was for + <i>me</i>—at first he does not see Dorothy. When he does + it is an added pleasure.</p> + + <p>With <i>two</i> ladies to escort he assumes a lordly + air.</p> + + <p>He had thought of everything. We would like some tea? Yes, + all the big places are shut as it is Sunday, but he has marked + down a little place on his way to the station.</p> + + <p>It is a lovely day, and we are very happy!</p> + + <p>The girl who waits upon us at the little tea place likes us, + and so do the other Tommies and their friends who are having + tea there.</p> + + <p>We sit at little tables, but at very close quarters with + each other, and we smile at them and they at us.</p> + + <p>I have brought Donald some letters, which pleases him, and + Dorothy has brought him some splendid socks, knitted by + herself.</p> + + <p>After tea we walk across an arid plain to a little wood, and + sit down under the + trees.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page246" + id="page246"></a>[pg 246]</span> + + <p>Donald changes to the new socks—those he had on were + wringing wet!</p> + + <p>He picks us little bunches of violets, hyacinths and wild + strawberry flowers—we have them still.</p> + + <p>We are very happy the whole of the day, and have my + sandwiches and cake and fruit for supper, there under the + trees. And here in thought let me leave "The Student in Arms," + who was to me part son, best pal, brother, comrade, and + counsellor on all subjects—and more than a little bit of + grandpapa!</p> + + <p>He could be so many different things because, as another + friend and cousin said, "he seemed to know everything about + everybody."</p> + + <p>I like to think of those two fine spirits—Hugh and + Donald—each with a hand to the tiny baby nephew, and a + word of greeting for me when I go over the top.</p> + + <center> + THE END + </center> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Student in Arms, by Donald Hankey + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A STUDENT IN ARMS *** + +***** This file should be named 14823-h.htm or 14823-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/8/2/14823/ + +Produced by Rick Niles, William Flis, and the PG Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Student in Arms + Second Series + +Author: Donald Hankey + +Release Date: January 28, 2005 [EBook #14823] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A STUDENT IN ARMS *** + + + + +Produced by Rick Niles, William Flis, and the PG Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + +[Illustration: DONALD HANKEY] + +A + +STUDENT IN ARMS + +SECOND SERIES + +BY + +DONALD HANKEY + +WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY J. ST. LOE STRACHEY + +EDITOR OF _THE SPECTATOR_ + + +NEW YORK + +B.P. DUTTON & CO. + +681 FIFTH AVENUE + + + + +Published 1917 BY E.P. DUTTON & CO. + + + + +CONTENTS + + PAGE + + SOMETHING ABOUT "A STUDENT IN ARMS" 1 + + AUTHOR'S FOREWORD 33 + + I.--THE POTENTATE 37 + + II.--THE BAD SIDE OF MILITARY SERVICE 51 + + III.--THE GOOD SIDE OF "MILITARISM" 65 + + IV.--A MONTH'S REFLECTIONS 79 + + V.--ROMANCE 93 + + VI.--IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS (I) 109 + + VII.--THE FEAR OF DEATH IN WAR 115 + + VIII.--IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS (II) 127 + + IX.--THE WISDOM OF "A STUDENT IN ARMS" 139 + + X.--IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS (III) 145 + + XI.--LETTER TO AN ARMY CHAPLAIN 153 + + XII.--"DON'T WORRY" 165 + + XIII.--IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS (IV) 175 + + XIV.--A PASSING IN JUNE, 1915 181 + + XV.--MY HOME AND SCHOOL: + + I MY HOME 199 + + II SCHOOL 216 + + SOME NOTES ON THE FRAGMENT OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY BY "HILDA" 237 + + + + +SOMETHING ABOUT "A STUDENT IN ARMS" + +BY H.M.A.H. + + +"His life was a Romance of the most noble and beautiful kind." So says +one who has known him from childhood, and into how many dull, hard +and narrow lives has he not been the first to bring the element of +Romance? + +He carried it about with him; it breathes through his writings, +and this inevitable expression of it gives the saying of one of his +friends, that "it is as an artist that we shall miss him most," the +more significance. + +And does not the artist as well as the poet live forever in his works? +Is not the breath of inspiration that such alone can breathe into the +dull clods of their generation bound to be immortal? + +Meanwhile, his "Romance" is to be written and his biographer will be +one whose good fortune it has been to see much of the "Student" in +Bermondsey, the place that was the forcing-house of his development. +In the following pages it is proposed only to give an outline of his +life, and particularly the earlier and therefore to the public unknown +parts. + +Donald Hankey was born at Brighton in 1884; he was the seventh child +of his parents, and was welcomed with excitement and delight by a +ready-made family of three brothers and two sisters living on his +arrival amongst them. He was the youngest of them by seven years, and +all had their plans for his education and future, and waited jealously +for the time when he should be old enough to be removed from the +loving shelter of his mother's arms and be "brought up." + +His education did, as a matter of fact, begin at a very early age; for +one day, when he was perhaps about three years old, dressed in a white +woolly cap and coat, and out for his morning walk, a neighbouring baby +stepped across from his nurse's side and with one well-directed blow +felled Donald to the ground! Donald was too much astonished and hurt +at the sheer injustice of the assault to dream of retaliation, but +when they reached home and his indignant nurse told the story, he was +taken aside by his brothers and made to understand that by his failure +to resist the assault, and give the other fellow back as good as he +gave, "the honour of the family" was impugned! He was then and there +put through a systematic course of "the noble art of self-defence." +"And I think," said one of his brothers only the other day, "that he +was prepared to act upon his instructions should occasion arise." +It will be seen from this incident that his bringing-up was of a +decidedly strenuous character and likely to make Donald's outlook on +life a serious one! + +He was naturally a peace-loving and philosophical little boy, very +lovable and attractive with his large clear eyes with their curious +distribution of colour--the one entirely blue and the other three +parts a decided brown--the big head set proudly on the slender little +body, and the radiant illuminating smile, that no one who knew him +well at any time of his life can ever forget. It spoke of a light +within, "that mysterious light which is of course not physical," as +was said by one who met him only once, but was quick to note this +characteristic. + +Donald's more strenuous times were in the boys' holidays--those +tumultuous of seasons so well known to the members of all big +families! His eldest brother, Hugh, was bent on making an all-round +athlete of him; another brother saw in him an embryo county cricketer, +while a third was most particular about his music, giving him lessons +on the violoncello with clockwork regularity. The games were terribly +thrilling and dangerous, especially when the schoolroom was turned +into a miniature battlefield, with opposing armies of tiny lead +soldiers. But Donald never turned a hair if Hugh were present, even at +the most terrific explosions of gun-powder. His confidence in Hugh was +complete. Nor did he mind personal injuries. When on one occasion he +was hurled against the sharp edge of a chair, cutting his head open +badly, and his mother came to the rescue with indignation, sympathy +and bandages, whilst accepting the latter he deprecated the two +former, explaining apologetically, "It's only because my head's so +big." + +He admitted in after years to having felt most terribly swamped by the +personalities of two of his brothers. The third he had more in common +with, for he was more peace-loving, and he seemed to have more time +to listen to the small boy's confidences and stories, which Donald +started to write at the age of six. + +Hugh, however, was his hero--a kind of demi-god. And truly there +was something Greek about the boy--in his singular beauty of person, +coupled with his brilliant mental equipment, and above all in the +nothing less than Spartan methods with which, in spite of a highly +sensitive temperament, he set himself to overcome his handicap of +a naturally delicate physique and a bad head for heights. He turned +himself out quite an athlete, and actually cured his bad head by a +course of walking on giddy heights, preferably roofs--the parapet of +the tall four-storied house the children lived in being a favourite +training ground. + +Donald was the apple of his eye, and he was quick to note a certain +lack of vitality about the little boy--especially when he was growing +fast--and a certain natural timidity. His letters from school are full +of messages to and instructions concerning Donald's physical training, +and from Sandhurst he would long to "run over and see after his +boxing." He called him Don Diego, a name that suited the rather +stately little fellow, and he used to fear sometimes that Donald +was "getting too polite" and say he must "knock it out of him in +the holidays." Needless to say, his handling of him was always very +gentle. + +The other over-vital brother, if a prime amuser, was also a prime +tease, and being nearer Donald in age was also much less gentle. + +Before very long these great personages took themselves off "zum neuen +taten." But their Odysseys came home in the shape of letters, which, +with their descriptions of strange countries and peoples and records +of adventures--often the realization of boyish dreams--and also of +difficulties overcome, were well calculated to appeal to Donald's +childish imagination, and to increase his admiration for the +writers--and also his feeling of impotence, and of the impossibility +of being able to follow in the tracks of such giants among men! + +His mother, however, was his never-failing confidante and friend. +His love and admiration for her were unbounded, as for her courage, +unselfishness and constant thought for others, more especially for +the poor and insignificant among her neighbours. Though the humblest +minded of women, she could, when occasion demanded, administer a +rebuke with a decision and a fire that must have won the heartfelt +admiration of her diffident little son. + +He was not easily roused himself, but there is one instance of his +being so that is eminently characteristic. He had come back from +school evidently very perturbed, and at first his sister could get +nothing out of him. But at last he flared up. His face reddened, his +eyes burned like coals and, in a voice trembling with rage, he said, +"---- (naming a school-fellow) talks about things that I won't even +_think_!" + +At the age of about 14 he, too, went to Rugby, and there is an +interesting prophecy about him by his brother Hugh belonging to this +time. Hugh had by now earned a certain right to pronounce judgment, +having already started to fulfil his early promise by making some mark +as a soldier and a linguist. He had been invited to join the Egyptian +Army at a critical time in the campaign of 1897-98, thanks to his +proficiency in Arabic. His work was cut short by serious illness, the +long period of convalescence after which he had utilized in working +for and passing the Army Interpreter's examination in Turkish as +well as the higher one in Arabic and his promotion exam. All of which +achievements had been of use in helping him to wring out of the War +Office a promise of certain distinguished service in China. In a +letter home he writes:-- + + 2ND BATT. THE ROYAL WARWICKSHIRE, REGT., + THE CAMP, + COLCHESTER. + 28th Sept., 1899. + + MY DEAR MAMMA,-- + + I packed Donald off to school to-day in good time and + cold-less.... He was wonderfully calm and collected. He was + more at his ease in our mess than I should have been in a + strange mess, and made himself agreeable to his neighbours + without being forward. Also he looked very clean and smart, + and was altogether quite a success. + + That child has a future before him if his energy is up to + form, which I hope. His philosophy is most amazing. He looks + remarkably healthy, and is growing nicely.... + +Shortly after this letter was written the South African War broke out, +and before six months were over the writer was killed in action, at +the age of 27, whilst serving with the Mounted Infantry at Paardeberg. + +It was the first sorrow of Donald's life, but six months later he was +to suffer a yet more crushing blow in the loss of his dearly loved +mother. The loss of his best confidante and his ideal seemed at first +to stun the boy completely, and to cast him in upon himself entirely. +Later on he remembered that he had felt at that time that he had +nothing to say to any one. He had wondered what the others could have +thought of him, and had thought how dreadfully unresponsive they must +be finding him. His sister should have been of some use. But she +can only think of herself then as of some strange figure, veiled +and petrified with grief--grief _not_ for her mother, but for the +young hero whose magnetism had thrilled through every moment of her +life--yet pointing onwards, with mutely insistent finger, to the +path that her hero had trodden. And Donald, dazed also himself by +grief--though from another cause--of his own accord, placed his first +uncertain steps on the road that leads to military glory. No "voice" +warned him as yet, and he had no other decisive leading. + +If his sister failed him then, his father did not. Of him Donald wrote +recently to an aunt, "Papa's letters to me are a heritage whose value +can never diminish. His was indeed the pen of a ready writer, and +in his case, as in the case of many rather reserved people, the pen +did more justice to the man than the tongue. I never knew him until +Mamma's death, when the weekly letter from him took the place of hers, +and never stopped till I came home." + +At Rugby, Donald was accounted a dreamer. Without the outlet he +had hitherto had for his confidences and his thoughts no doubt the +tendency to dream grew upon him. "Behold this dreamer cometh," was +actually said of him by one of his masters. + +Nevertheless there were happy times when youth asserted itself and +boyish friendships were made. In work he did well, for he entered the +sixth form at the early age of 161/2, and was thereby enabled, though he +left young, to have his name painted up "in hall" below those of his +three brothers, and also on his "study" door which belonged to each of +the four in turn. + +He entered the Royal Military Academy, Woolwich, straight from +Rugby, and before he was seventeen. We have his word for it that +he was spiritually very unhappy there, finding evils with which he +was impotent to grapple, going up as he did so young from school +and before he had had time to acquire a "games" reputation--that +all-important qualification for a boy if he wishes to influence +his fellows. Nevertheless youthful spirits were bound to triumph +sometimes. He was a perfectly sound and healthy, well-grown boy and a +friend who was with him at "the Shop" says he can remember no apparent +trace of unhappiness, and is full of tales of his jokes and his fun, +his quaint caricatures and doggerel rhymes, his love of flowers and +nature, his hospitalities, and his joy in getting his friends to meet +and know and like each other. Though he made no mark at Woolwich he +did carry off the prize for the best essay on the South African War. +With it he made his first appearance in print, for it was printed in +the R.M.A. Magazine. While he was at Woolwich the family circle was +enlarged by the arrival of a cousin from Australia, and she and Donald +became the greatest of friends. She reminded him in some way of his +mother, and this made all the difference. + +The Island of Mauritius, to which he was sent at the age of twenty, +not so very long after having received his commission in the Royal +Garrison Artillery, stood for him later on, he has told us, as +"Revelation"--"for there it was that I was first a sceptic, and was +first shown that I could not remain one." Also towards the end of his +stay there, when he was doubting as to what course he should take, +a sentence came to him insistently, "Would you know Christ? Lo, He +is working in His vineyard." It was these things that decided him +eventually to resign his commission, but of them his letters home +make little or no mention. They are full, on the other hand, of +descriptions of the beauties of the Island which, curious, odd, +freakish and unexpected, held him as did those of no other place. The +curious inconsistencies of the Creole nature also interested him, and +he spent much of his spare time sketching and studying the people. Two +friendships he made there were diverse and lasting, but he complains +very much of feeling the lack of a woman friend--no one to tease and +pick flowers for! + +While he was still there, there appeared at home a baby +nephew--another "Hugh"--"trailing clouds of glory," but to return all +too soon to his "Eternal Home." Some years previously, when his eldest +sister had told him of her engagement, he congratulated her warmly, +and said he "had always longed for a nephew"! He never saw the child, +but wrote after his death that he had heard so much about him that +he seemed to know him, and "I think I must have played with him in +my dreams." Possibly the baby nephew, in his short ten months of +life, did more for his uncle than either knew, for no frozen hearts +could do otherwise than melt in the presence of the insistent needs +of that gallant little spirit and fragile little body, and a more +whole-hearted sister was awaiting him on his return home, which took +place at the end of two years, after he had fallen a victim to the +prevalent complaint in the R.G.A--abscess on the liver. It was caused +by the shocking conditions under which the R.G.A. had to live in +Mauritius during that hot summer when the Russian Fleet sojourned +in Madagascan waters, and in Donald's case it necessitated a severe +operation. + +His joy in his homecoming was quickly clouded over, for his father +died only a month or two after his return; not, however, before he +had given a delighted acquiescence to Donald's proposal to resign +his commission and go to Oxford in order to study theology--his own +favourite pursuit--with the object of eventually taking Holy Orders. + +In the spring of 1907 Donald took a trip to Italy with his sister and +a Rhodes Scholar cousin from Australia. It was the young men's first +visit, and each brought back a special trophy: Donald's, a large +photograph of a fine virile "Portrait of a man" by Giorgione in black +and white, and his cousin, a sweet Madonna head by Luini. + +Donald gave his sister her trophy on their return home, in remembrance +of the lectures she had given the two of them on the pre-Raphaelite +painters in Florence. It took the form of a water-colour caricature of +herself, sitting enthroned in a Loggia as a sort of Sybil Saint with +a halo and a book (Baedeker). Behind her, and outlined against a pale +sky as seen through an archway of the Loggia in the typical Florentine +fashion, are the blue mountains near Florence, some tall cypresses, +a campanile and a castle perched on the top of a hill--all features +of the landscapes through which they had passed together. In the +foreground are himself and his cousin as monks adoring, also with +haloes, and expressions of mock ecstasy! + +On his return Donald went for a few months to Rugby House, the Rugby +School Mission, in order to cram for Oxford. He thereby made a friend, +and learned to love Browning. + +After living so long at Brighton, and then in barracks, the beauty of +Oxford was in itself alone a revelation to him. The work there, too, +was entirely congenial. As a gunner subaltern he had been a square peg +in a round hole. As regards the work there had been far too much to +be accepted on authority for one of his fundamental type of mind; the +relations existing between an officer and his men--in peace time, +at any rate--seemed to him hardly human, and the making of quick +decisions, which an officer is continually called upon to do, was +then as always very difficult to him. His tastes, too, unusual in a +subaltern, had made him rather lonely. He found much more in common +with the undergraduate than with the subaltern. Going up as an +"oldster" (22) was to him an advantage rather than otherwise, for his +six years in the Army had given him a certain prestige which was a +help to his natural diffidence, and helped to open more doors to him, +so that he was not limited to any set. + +He gained some reputation as a host, for he had the born host's gift +of getting the right people together and making them feel at their +ease. There was also, as a rule, some little individual touch about +his entertainments that made them stand out. His manner, though +naturally boyish and shy, could be both gay and debonair, quite +irresistible in fact, when he was surrounded by congenial spirits! He +played hockey, and was made a member of several clubs, sketched and +made beautiful photographs. His time he divided strictly between the +study of man and the study of theology, and though he did much hard, +thorough and careful work in connexion with the latter, he always +maintained that for a man who was going to be a parson the former was +the more important study of the two. + +He used, however, to complain much at this time of feeling himself +incapable of any very strong emotion, even that of sorrow. + +No doubt there is more stimulation to the brain than to the heart in +the highly critical atmosphere of all phases of the intellectual life +at Oxford; also Donald had hardly yet got over the shocks of his youth +and the loneliness of his life abroad. He was, too, essentially and +curiously the son of his father--even to his minor tastes, such as his +connoisseur's palate for a good wine and his judgment in "smokes"--and +this feeling of a certain detachment from the larger emotions of life +was always his father's pose--the philosopher's. In his father's case +it was perhaps engendered, if not necessitated, by his poor health and +wretched nerves. + +But can we not trace his dissatisfaction at this time in what he felt +to be his cold philosophical attitude towards life to the same cause +as much of the misery he suffered as a boy! In the paper he calls +"School," which follows with that entitled "Home," he tells us how he +would have liked to have chastised a school-fellow "had he dared," +and his failure to dare was evidently what reduced him to the state of +impotent rage described on page 9 of this sketch. Again at Woolwich, +what made him unhappy was not so much the evils which he saw but +his impotence to deal with them. So now again at Oxford he feels +"impotent," impotent this time to feel and sympathize as he would +have wished with suffering humanity. But within him was the light, +"the light which is, of course, not physical," which betrayed itself +through his wonderful smile--the same now as in babyhood; and from +his mother, and perhaps also from the young country that gave her +birth, he had inherited, as well as her great heart and broad human +sympathies, the vigour that was to carry him through the experiences +by means of which, in the fullness of time, that light, no longer +dormant, was to break into a flame of infinite possibilities. + +Donald's one complaint against Oxford was that the ideas that are born +and generated there so often evaporate in talk and smoke. He left with +the determination to "do," but before going on to a Clergy School he +decided to accept a friend's invitation to visit him in savage Africa +so that he might think things over, and put to the test, far away from +the artificialities of Modern Life, the ideas he had assimilated in +the highly sophisticated atmosphere of Oxford. As he quaintly put it: +"Since Paul went into Arabia for three years, I don't see why I should +not go to British East Africa for six months!" He did not, however, +stay the whole time there, but re-visited his beloved Mauritius, and +also stayed in Madagascar. + +The beginning of 1911 found him at the Clergy School. But what he +wanted he did not find there. During his Oxford vacations he had made +many expeditions to poorer London, at first to Notting Dale where +was the Rugby School Mission, and afterwards to Bermondsey. But these +expeditions had not been entirely satisfactory. He had then gone as +a "visitor." The lessons he wanted to learn now from "the People" +could only be learned by becoming as far as possible one of them. The +story of his struggles to do so in his life in Bermondsey, and of +his journey to Australia in the steerage of a German liner and of his +roughing it there, always with the same object in view, cannot be told +here. The first outcome of it all was the writing of his book, _The +Lord of All Good Life_. Of this book he says, in a letter to his +friend Tom Allen of the Oxford and Bermondsey Mission: + +"The book I regard as my child. I feel quite absurdly about it; to me +it is the sudden vision of what lots of obscure things really meant. +It is coming out of dark shadows into--moonlight ... I would have you +to realize that it was written spontaneously in a burst, in six weeks, +without any consultation of authorities or any revision to speak of. +I had tried and tried, but without success. Then suddenly everything +cleared up. To myself, the writing of it was an illumination. I did +not write it laboriously and with calculation or because I wanted to +write a book and be an author. I wrote it because problems that had +been troubling me suddenly cleared up and because writing down the +result was to me the natural way of getting everything straight in my +own mind." + +The book was written not away in the peace of the country, nor in the +comparative quiet of a certain sunny little sitting-room I know of, +looking on to a leafy back garden in Kensington, where Donald often +sat and smoked and wrote, but in a little flat in a dull tenement +house in a grey street in Bermondsey, where I remember visiting him +with a cousin of his. + +Here the Student lived like a lord--for Bermondsey! For he possessed +two flats, one for his "butler"--a sick-looking young man in list +slippers, and his wife and family--and the other for himself. + +The little sitting-room in which he entertained us was very pleasant, +with light walls, a bright table-cloth, a gleam of something brass +that had come from Ceylon, one or two gaily painted dancing shields +from Africa, and two barbaric looking dolls, about a foot high, +dressed chiefly in beads and paint, that he had picked up in an +Antananarivo shop in Madagascar. They came in usefully when he was +lecturing on Missions! + +His bedroom he did not want us to see. It struck cold and appeared to +be reeking with damp! + +The weather had been rather dull when we arrived, but suddenly there +was a glint of sunshine, and a grind-organ that had wandered up the +street started playing just opposite. Two couple of children began +to dance. A girl with a jug stopped to watch them, and mothers with +babies came to their doors. A window was thrown open opposite and a +whole family of children leaned out to see the fun. + +Bermondsey was gay, and after we had gone the "Student" perpetuated +the fact in a water-colour drawing which he sent to his cousin +afterwards. + +In the evening, however, the sounds would be more discordant, also +the Student was running a Boys' Club, taking several Sunday services +at the Mission, visiting some very sick people, and attending to a +multifarious list of duties which left me breathless when I saw it, +knowing too how many casual appeals always came to him and that he +never was known to refuse a helping hand to any one! Nevertheless +it was there, and in six weeks, that the _Lord of All Good Life_ was +written! + +"Then came the war," and the Student shall tell us in his own words +what it meant to him. Writing still to Tom Allen, who had also +enlisted, and afterwards also gave his life in the war, he says: + +"For myself the war was, in a sense, a heaven-sent opportunity. Ever +since I left Leeds I have been trying to follow out the theory that +the proper subject of study for the theologian was man, and had +increasingly been made to feel that nothing but violent measures could +overcome my own shyness sufficiently to enable me to study outside +my own class. Enlistment had always appealed to me as one of the few +feasible methods of ensuring the desired results.... + +"I was interested to hear that you found the ---- so illuminating as +regards human potentialities for bestiality. I think that I plumbed +the depths between sixteen and a half and twenty-two. I have learned +nothing more since then about bestiality. In fact I am hardened, and, +I am afraid, take it for granted. Since then I have been discovering +human goodness, which is far more satisfactory. And oh, I have found +it! In Bermondsey, in the stinking hold of the _Zieten_, in the wide, +thirsty desert of Western Australia, and in the ranks of the 7th +Battalion of the Rifle Brigade. I enlisted very largely to find out +how far I really believed in the brotherhood of man when it comes to +the point--and I do believe in it more and more." + +Donald Hankey enlisted in August, 1914, and after a period of +training, part of which was certainly the happiest time of his life, +he went to the front in May, 1915, coming home wounded in August, when +he wrote for the _Spectator_ most of the articles that were published +anonymously the following spring under the title of _A Student in +Arms_. Before he left hospital he received a commission in his old +regiment, the R.G.A., but still finding himself with no love for +big guns, he transferred to his eldest brother's regiment, the Royal +Warwickshire, hoping that by doing so he might get back to the front +the sooner. He did not, however, leave until May, 1916, after he had +written his contribution to _Faith or Fear_. + +Most of the numbers of the present volume were written in or near +the trenches, and a fellow-officer gave his sister an interesting +description of how it was done. "Your brother," said he, "will sit +down in a corner of a trench, with his pipe, and write an article for +the _Spectator_, or make funny sketches for his nephews and nieces, +when none of the rest of us could concentrate sufficiently even to +write a letter." + +On October 6th, Donald Hankey wrote home: "We shall probably be +fighting by the time you get this letter, but one has a far better +chance of getting through now than in July. I shall be very glad if we +do have a scrap, as we have been resting quite long enough. Of course +one always has to face possibilities on such occasions; but we have +faced them in advance, haven't we? I believe with all my soul that +whatever will be, will be for the best. As I said before, I should +hate to slide meanly into winter without a scrap.... I have a top-hole +platoon--nearly all young, and nearly all have been out here eighteen +months--thoroughly good sporting fellows; so if I don't do well it +will be my fault." + +Six days after this the Student knelt down for a few seconds with his +men--we have it on the testimony of one of them--and he told them a +little of what was before them: "If wounded, 'Blighty'; if killed, the +Resurrection." Then "over the top." He was last seen alive rallying +his men, who had wavered for a moment under the heavy machine gun and +rifle fire. He carried the waverers along with him, and was found that +night close to the trench, the winning of which had cost him his life, +with his platoon sergeant and a few of his men by his side. + +What wonder that his cousin and best friend, when asked a short time +previously what he was like, had replied, "He is the most beautiful +thing that ever happened." + + + + +AUTHOR'S FOREWORD + +(BEING EXTRACTS FROM LETTERS TO HIS SISTER) + + +"I am very much wondering whether you will receive 'A Diary' in four +parts. It is very much founded on fact, though altered in parts. You +will probably be surprised at a certain change in tone, but remember +that my previous articles were written in England, while this was +written on the spot.... The Diary was not my diary, though it was +so very nearly what mine might have been that it is difficult to +say what is fiction and what is actuality in it. With regard to the +'conversation' during the bombardment, it represents in its totality +what I believe the ordinary soldier feels. He loathes the war, and the +grandiloquent speeches of politicians irritate him by their failure to +realize how loathesome war is. At the same time he knows he has got to +go through with it, and only longs for the chance to hurry up. In the +'Diary,' again, I quite deliberately emphasized the depression of the +man who thought he was being left out, and the mental effect of the +clearing-up process because I thought that it would be a good thing +for people to realize this side, and also partly because I felt that +in previous articles I had glossed over it too much.... If I get a +chance of publishing another book I shall certainly include them." + + _Note_.--Not only "A Diary" and "Imaginary Conversations," but + every paper in the present collection, with the exception of + "The Wisdom," "The Potentate," and "A Passing in June," were + written in France in 1916, and many of them actually in the + trenches. The rough sketch for "A Passing in June" was written + in France in 1915, but was completed when the author was in + hospital at home. + + "The Potentate" was written for the original volume of _A + Student in Arms_, but was not published on account of its + likeness in subject to Barrie's play, _Der Tag_, which, + however, Donald had not seen or even heard of when he wrote + his own. + + + + +I + +THE POTENTATE[1] + + + SCENE. _A tent (interior). The_ POTENTATE _is sitting at a + table listening to his_ COURT CHAPLAIN. + +[Footnote 1: It is necessary to state that _The Potentate_ was written +before Sir James Barrie's play _Der Tag_ appeared.] + +COURT CHAPLAIN (_concluding his remarks_). Where can we look for the +Kingdom of God, Sire, if not among the German people? Consider your +foes. The English are Pharisees, hypocrites. Woe to them, saith +the Lord. The French are atheists. The Belgians are ignorant and +priest-ridden. The Russians are sunk in mediaeval superstition. As for +the Italians, half are atheists and the other half idolators. Only +in Germany do you find a reasonable and progressive faith, devoid +of superstition, abreast of scientific thought, and of the highest +ethical value. Germany then, Sire, is the Kingdom of God on earth. The +Germans are the chosen people, the heirs of the promise, and let their +enemies be scattered! + + (_The_ POTENTATE _rises, leans forward with his hands on the + table, and an expression of extreme gratification, while the_ + CHAPLAIN _stands with a smug and respectful smile on his white + face._) + +POTENTATE. You are right, my dear Clericus, abundantly right. Very +well put indeed! Yes, Germany is the Kingdom of God, and I (_drawing +himself up to his full height_)--I am Germany! The strength of the +Lord is in my right arm, and He teaches it terrible things for the +unbeliever and the hypocrite. With God I conquer! Good-night, my dear +Clericus, good-night. + + (CLERICUS _departs with a low bow, and_ _the_ POTENTATE _sinks + into his chair with a gesture of fatigue. Enter a_ GENERAL _of + the Headquarters Staff with telegrams._) + +POTENTATE (_brightening_). Ha, my dear General, you have news? + +GENERAL. Excellent news, Sire! On the Eastern front the Russians +continue to give way. In the West a French attack has been repulsed +with heavy loss, and our gallant Prussians have driven the British out +of half a mile of trenches. + + (_At this last bit of news the_ POTENTATE _springs to his feet + with a look of joy._) + +POTENTATE. A sign! My God, a sign! Pardon, General, I was thinking of +a conversation that I have just had with Dr. Clericus. Come now, show +me where these trenches are. + + (_The_ GENERAL _produces a map, over which they pore + together._) + +POTENTATE. Excellent, excellent! A most valuable capture. Our losses +were ...? + +GENERAL. Slight, Sire. + +POTENTATE. Better and better. I cannot afford to lose my good +Prussians, my heroic, my invincible Prussians. To what do you +attribute the success? + +GENERAL. The success was due in a large measure to the perfection +of the apparatus suggested a week ago by your Majesty's scientific +adviser. + +POTENTATE (_blanching a little_). Ah, then it was not a charge, eh? + +GENERAL. The charge followed, Sire; but the work was already done. The +defenders of the trench were already dead or dying before our heroes +reached it. + +POTENTATE (_sinking back in his chair with his finger to his lips, +and a slight frown_). Thank you, General, your news is of the best. +I will detain you no longer. (_The_ GENERAL _bows._) Stay! Has a +counterattack been launched yet? + +GENERAL. Not yet, Sire. No doubt one will be attempted to-night. Our +men are prepared. + +POTENTATE. Good. Bring me fresh news as soon as it arrives. +Good-night, General, good-night. + + (_Exit_ GENERAL.) + + (_The_ POTENTATE _sits musing for a considerable time. A + slight cough is heard, and he raises his head._) + +POTENTATE (_slowly_). Enter! + + (_Enter a tall figure in a long black academic gown and black + clothes._) + +POTENTATE (_with an attempt at gaiety_). Come in, my dear Sage, come +in. You are welcome. (_A little anxiously_) You have the crystal? +Good. How is the Master? Still busy devising new means of victory? + +THE SAGE. My master's poor skill is always at your service, Sire. You +have only to command. + +POTENTATE. I know it. Now let me have the crystal. I would see if +possible the scene of to-day's victory in Flanders. + + (_The_ SAGE _hands him the crystal with a low bow. The_ + POTENTATE _seizes it eagerly, and gazes into it. A pause._) + +POTENTATE (_raising his head suddenly_). Horrible, horrible! + +SAGE. Sire? + +POTENTATE. This last invention of your master's is inhuman! + +SAGE. War is inhuman, Sire. Where a speedy end is desired, is it not +kindest to be cruel? + + (_The_ POTENTATE _gazes again into the crystal,_ _but starts + up immediately with a gasp of horror._) + +POTENTATE. Again the same vision! Always after my victories the vision +of the Crucified, with the stern reproachful eyes! Am I not the Lord's +appointed instrument? What means it? Tell your master that I will have +no more of his inventions. They are too diabolical! They imperil my +cause! + +SAGE (_pointing to the crystal_). Look again, Sire. + +POTENTATE (_gazing into the crystal, and in a low and agonized +voice_). Time with his scythe raised menacingly against me. +(_Abruptly_) This is a trickery, Sirrah! Have a care! But I will not +be tricked. Are my troops not brave? Are they not invincible? Can they +not win by their proven valour? Who can stand against them, for the +strength of the Lord is in their right hands? + + (_Enter GENERAL hastily_) + +GENERAL. Sire.... (_He starts, and stops short_). + +POTENTATE (_testily_). Go on, go on. What is it? + +GENERAL. Sire, the English counterattack has for the moment succeeded. +Infuriated by their defeat they fought so that no man could resist +them. They have regained the trenches they had lost, but we hope to +attack again to-morrow, when-- + +POTENTATE. Enough! Leave me! + + (_The_ GENERAL _withdraws, and the_ POTENTATE _leans forward + with his head on his hands._) + +SAGE (_commiseratingly_). Apparently other troops are brave besides +your own, Sire! + +POTENTATE (_brokenly_). The cowards! The cowards! Five nations against +three! Alas, my poor Prussians! + +SAGE. If you will look once more into the crystal, Sire, I think you +will see something that will interest you. + + (_The_ POTENTATE _takes the crystal again, but without + confidence._) + +POTENTATE (_in a slow recitative_). A stricken field by night. The +dead lie everywhere, German and English, side by side. But all are not +dead. Some are but wounded. They help one another. Prussian and Briton +help one another, with painful smiles on their white faces. What? Have +they forgotten their hate? My Prussians! Can you so soon forget? I +mourn for you! But who are these? White figures, vague, elusive! See, +they seem to come down from above. They are carrying away the souls +of my Prussians! And of the accursed English! What! One Paradise for +both! Impossible! And who is that watching? He who with a smile so +loving, and yet so stern ... Ah!... My God ... no!... not I.... + + (_The_ POTENTATE _rises with a strangled cry, and sinks into + his chair a nerveless wreck. The_ SAGE _watches coolly, with a + cynical smile._) + +SAGE. So, Sire, you must find room for the English in that kingdom of +yours and God's! Perchance it is more catholic than we had thought! + + (_The_ POTENTATE _groans._) + +SAGE. Sire, you have seen some truth to-night. Is courage, is God, all +on your side? Is Time on your side? Shall I go back to my master and +tell him that you need no more of his inventions? + + (_He pauses, and glances at the_ POTENTATE _with a look of + contempt, and then turns to go. The_ POTENTATE _looks round + him with a ghastly stare._) + +POTENTATE (_feebly_). No ... the Crucified ... Time ... Stay, stay! + + (_The_ SAGE _turns with a gesture of triumph._) + + (_Curtain._) + + + + +II + +THE BAD SIDE OF MILITARY SERVICE + + +A Padre who has earned the right to talk about the "average Tommy," +writes to me that _A Student in Arms_ gives a very one-sided picture +of him. While cordially admitting his unselfishness, his good +comradeship, his patience, and his pluck, my friend challenges me +to deny that military, and especially active, service often has a +brutalizing effect on the soldier, weakening his moral fibres, and +causing him to sink to a low animal level. + +Those who are in the habit of reading between the lines will, I +think, often have seen the shadow of this darker side of army life +on the pages of _A Student in Arms_; but I have not written of it +specifically for several reasons. It will suffice if I mention two. +First, I was writing mainly of the private and the N.C.O. Rightly +or wrongly, I imagined that those for whom I was writing were in the +habit of taking for granted this darker side of life in the ranks. I +imagined that they thought of the "lower classes" as being naturally +coarser and more animal than the "upper classes." I wanted then, and I +want now, to contradict that belief with all the vehemence of which I +am capable. Officers and men necessarily develop different qualities, +different forms of expression, different mental attitudes. But I am +confident that I speak the truth when I say that essentially, and in +the eyes of God there is nothing to choose between them. + +If I must write of the brutalizing effect of war on the soldier, let +it be clearly understood that I am speaking, not of officers only, +nor of privates only, but of fighting men of every class and rank. +As a matter of fact I have never, whether before or during the war, +belonged to a mess where the tone was cleaner or more wholesome than +it was in the Sergeants' Mess of my old battalion. + +My second reason for not writing about the bad side of Army life was +that mere condemnation is so futile. I have listened to countless +sermons in which the "lusts of the flesh" were denounced, and have +known for certain that their power for good was _nil_. If I write +about it now, it is only because I hope that I may be able to make +clearer the causes and processes of such moral deterioration as +exists, and thus to help those who are trying to combat it, to do so +with greater understanding and sympathy. + +Even in England most officers, and all privates, are cut off from +their womenfolk. Mothers, sisters, wives, and sweethearts are +inaccessible. All have a certain amount of leisure, and very little +to do with it. All are physically fit and mentally rather unoccupied. +All are living under an unnatural discipline from which, when the +last parade of the day is over, there is a natural reaction. Finally, +wherever there are troops, and especially in war time, there are "bad" +women and weak women. The result is inevitable. A certain number of +both officers and men "go wrong." + +Fifteen months ago I was a private quartered in a camp near Aldershot. +After tea it began to get dark. The tent was damp, gloomy, and cold. +The Y.M.C.A. tent and the Canteen tent were crowded. One wandered off +to the town. The various soldiers' clubs were filled and overflowing. +The bars required more cash than one possessed. The result was that +one spent a large part of one's evenings wandering aimlessly about +the streets. Fortunately I discovered an upper room in a Wesleyan +soldiers' home, where there was generally quiet, and an empty chair. +I shall always be grateful to that "home," for the many hours which I +whiled away there with a book and a pipe. But most of us spent a great +deal of our leisure, bored and impecunious, "on the streets"; and if +a fellow ran up against "a bit of skirt," he was generally just in the +mood to follow it wherever it might lead. The moral of this is, double +your subscriptions to the Y.M.C.A., Church huts, soldiers' clubs, or +whatever organization you fancy! You will be helping to combat vice in +the only sensible way. + +I don't suppose that the officers were much better off than we were. +Their tents may have been a little lighter and less crowded than ours. +They had a late dinner to occupy part of the long evening. They had +more money to spend, and perhaps more to occupy their minds. But I +fancy that as great a proportion of them as of us took the false step; +and though perhaps when they compared notes their language may have +been less blunt than ours, I am not sure that, for this very reason, +it may not have been more poisonous. But mind you, we did not all +go wrong, by any means, though I believe that some fellows did, both +officers and men, who would not have done so if they had stayed at +home with their mothers, sisters, sweethearts, or wives. + +So much for the Army at home. When we cross the Channel every feature +is a hundred times intensified. Consider the fighting man in the +trenches--and I am still speaking of both officers and men--the most +ordinary refinements of life are conspicuously absent. There is no +water to wash in. Vermin abound, sleeping and eating accommodations +are frankly disgusting. One is obliged for the time to live like a +pig. Added to this one is all the time in a state of nervous tension. +One gets very little sleep. Every night has its anxieties and +responsibilities. Danger or death may come at any moment. So for a +week or a fortnight or a month, as the case may be. Then comes the +return to billets, to comparative safety and comfort--the latter +nothing to boast about though! Tension is relaxed. There is an +inevitable reaction. Officers and men alike determine to "gather +rosebuds" while they may. Their bodies are fit, their wills are +relaxed. If they are built that way, and an opportunity offers, they +will "satisfy the lusts of the flesh." + +When there is real fighting to be done the dangers of the +after-reaction are intensified. You who sit at home and read of +glorious bayonet charges do not realize what it means to the man +behind the bayonet. You don't realize the repugnance for the first +thrust--a repugnance which has got to be overcome. You don't realize +the change that comes over a man when his bayonet is wet with the +blood of his first enemy. He "sees red." The primitive "blood-lust," +kept under all his life by the laws and principles of peaceful +society, surges through his being, transforming him, maddening him +with the desire to kill, kill, kill! Ask any one who has been through +it if this is not true. And that letting loose of a primitive lust is +not going to be without its effect on a man's character. + +At the same time, of course, not all of us become animals out here. +There are other influences at work. Caring for the wounded, burying +the mutilated dead, cause one to hate war, and to value ten times more +the ways of peace. Many are saved from sinking in the scale, by a love +of home which is able to bridge the gulf which separates them +from their beloved. The letters of my platoon are largely love +letters--often the love letters of married men to their wives. + +There is immorality in the Army; when there is opportunity immorality +is rife. Possibly there is more abroad than there is at home. If so it +is because there is far greater temptation. Nevertheless, I fancy that +my correspondent, who is a padre, a don, and at least the beginning of +a saint, is perhaps inclined to exaggerate the extent of the evil in +the Army as compared with civil life. I imagine that very few padres, +especially if they are dons, and most of all if they are saints, +realize that in civil life as in Army life, the average man is +immoral, both in thought and deed. Let us be frank about this. What +a doctor might call the "appetites" and a padre the "lusts" of the +body, hold dominion over the average man, whether civilian or soldier, +unless they are counteracted by a stronger power. The only men who +are pure are those who are absorbed in some pursuit, or possessed by a +great love; be it the love of clean, wholesome life which is religion, +or the love of a noble man which is hero-worship, or the love of a +true woman. These are the four powers which are stronger than "the +flesh"--the zest of a quest, religion, hero-worship, and the love of +a good woman. If a man is not possessed by one of these he will be +immoral. + +Probably most men are immoral. The conditions of military, and +especially of active service merely intensify the temptation. Unless +a soldier is wholly devoted to the cause, or powerfully affected by +religion, or by hero-worship, or by pure love, he is immoral. + +Perhaps most men are immoral if they get the chance. Most soldiers +are immoral if they get the chance. But those who are trying to help +the soldier can do so with a good heart if they realize that in +him they have a foundation on which to build. Already he is half a +hero-worshipper. Already he half believes in the beauty of sacrifice +and in the life immortal. Already he is predisposed to value +exceedingly all that savours of clean, wholesome home life. On that +foundation it should be possible to build a strong idealism which +shall prevail against the flesh. And this is my last word--it is by +building up, and not by casting down, that the soldier can be saved +from degradation. The devil that possesses so many can only be cast +out by an angel that is stronger than he. + + + + +III + +THE GOOD SIDE OF "MILITARISM" + + +I had a letter the other day from an Oxford friend. In it was this +phrase: "I loathe militarism in all its forms." Somehow it took me +back quite suddenly to the days before the war, to ideas that I had +almost completely forgotten. I suppose that in those days the great +feature of those of us who tried to be "in the forefront of modern +thought" was their riotous egotism, their anarchical insistence on the +claims of the individual at the expense even of law, order, society, +and convention. "Self-realization" we considered to be the primary +duty of every man and woman. + +The wife who left her husband, children, and home because of her +passion for another man was a heroine, braving the hypocritical +judgments of society to assert the claims of the individual soul. +The woman who refused to abandon all for love's sake, was not only +a coward but a criminal, guilty of the deadly sin of sacrificing her +soul, committing it to a prison where it would languish and never +blossom to its full perfection. The man who was bound to uncongenial +drudgery by the chains of an early marriage or aged parents dependent +on him, was the victim of a tragedy which drew tears from our eyes. +The woman who neglected her home because she needed a "wider sphere" +in which to develop her personality was a champion of women's rights, +a pioneer of enlightenment. And, on the other hand, the people +who went on making the best of uncongenial drudgery, or in any way +subjected their individualities to what old-fashioned people called +duty, were in our eyes contemptible poltroons. + +It was the same in politics and religion. To be loyal to a party +or obedient to a Church was to stand self-confessed a fool or a +hypocrite. Self-realization, that was in our eyes the whole duty of +man. + +And then I thought of what I had seen only a few days before. First, +of battalions of men marching in the darkness, steadily and in step, +towards the roar of the guns; destined in the next twelve hours to +charge as one man, without hesitation or doubt, through barrages +of cruel shell and storms of murderous bullets. Then, the following +afternoon, of a handful of men, all that was left of about three +battalions after ten hours of fighting, a handful of men exhausted, +parched, strained, holding on with grim determination to the last bit +of German trench, until they should receive the order to retire. And +lastly, on the days and nights following, of the constant streams +of wounded and dead being carried down the trench; of the unceasing +search that for three or four days was never fruitless. + +Self-realization! How far we have travelled from the ideals of those +pre-war days. And as I thought things over I wondered at how faint a +response that phrase, "I loathe militarism in all its forms," found in +my own mind. + +Before the war I too hated "militarism." I despised soldiers as men +who had sold their birthright for a mess of pottage. The sight of +the Guards drilling in Wellington Barracks, moving as one man to the +command of their drill instructor, stirred me to bitter mirth. They +were not men but manikins. When I first enlisted, and for many months +afterwards, the "mummeries of military discipline," the saluting, the +meticulous uniformity, the rigid suppression of individual exuberance, +chafed and infuriated me. I compared it to a ritualistic religion, a +religion of authority only, which depended not on individual assent +but on tradition for its sanctions. I loathed militarism in all its +forms. Now ... well, I am inclined to reconsider my judgment. Seeing +the end of military discipline, has shown me something of its ethical +meaning--more than that, of its spiritual meaning. + +For though the part of the "great push" that it fell to my lot to see +was not a successful part, it was none the less a triumph--a spiritual +triumph. From the accounts of the ordinary war correspondent I think +one hardly realizes how great a spiritual triumph it was. For the war +correspondent only sees the outside, and can only describe the outside +of things. We who are in the Army, who know the men as individuals, +who have talked with them, joked with them, censored their letters, +worked with them, lived with them we see below the surface. + +The war correspondent sees the faces of the men as they march towards +the Valley of the Shadow, sees the steadiness of eye and mouth, +hears the cheery jest. He sees them advance into the Valley without +flinching. He sees some of them return, tired, dirty, strained, but +still with a quip for the passer-by. He gives us a picture of men +without nerves, without sensitiveness, without imagination, schooled +to face death as they would face rain or any trivial incident of +everyday life. The "Tommy" of the war correspondent is not a human +being, but a lay figure with a gift for repartee, little more than +the manikin that we thought him in those far-off days before the war, +when we watched him drilling on the barrack square. We soldiers know +better. We know that each one of those men is an individual, full of +human affections, many of them writing tender letters home every +week, each one longing with all his soul for the end of this hateful +business of war which divides him from all that he loves best in +life. We know that every one of these men has a healthy individual's +repugnance to being maimed, and a human shrinking from hurt and from +the Valley of the Shadow of Death. + +The knowledge of all this does not do away with the even tread of the +troops as they pass, the steady eye and mouth, the cheery jest; but +it makes these a hundred times more significant. For we know that what +these things signify is not lack of human affection, or weakness, or +want of imagination, but something superimposed on these, to which +they are wholly subordinated. Over and above the individuality of +each man, his personal desires and fears and hopes, there is the +corporate personality of the soldier which knows no fear and only one +ambition--to defeat the enemy, and so to further the righteous cause +for which he is fighting. In each of those men there is this dual +personality: the ordinary human ego that hates danger and shrinks from +hurt and death, that longs for home, and would welcome the end of the +war on any terms; and also the stronger personality of the soldier who +can tolerate but one end to this war, cost what that may--the victory +of liberty and justice, and the utter abasement of brute force. + +And when one looks back over the months of training that the soldier +has had, one recognizes how every feature of it, though at the time +it often seemed trivial and senseless and irritating, was in reality +directed to this end. For from the moment that a man becomes a +soldier his dual personality begins. Henceforth he is both a man and +a soldier. Before his training is complete the order must be reversed, +and he must be a soldier and a man. As a soldier he must obey and +salute those whom, as a man, he very likely dislikes and despises. In +his conduct he no longer only has to consider his reputation as a man, +but still more his honour as a soldier. In all the conditions of his +life, his dress, appearance, food, drink, accommodation, and work, his +individual preferences count for nothing, his efficiency as a soldier +counts for everything. At first he "hates" this, and "can't see +the point of" that. But by the time his training is complete he has +realized that whether he hates a thing or not, sees the point of a +thing or not, is a matter of the uttermost unimportance. If he is +wise, he keeps his likes and dislikes to himself. + +All through his training he is learning the unimportance of his +individuality, realizing that in a national, a world crisis, it counts +for nothing. On the other hand, he is equally learning that as a unit +in a fighting force his every action is of the utmost importance. The +humility which the Army inculcates is not an abject self-depreciation +that leads to loss of self-respect and effort. Substituted for the old +individualism is a new self-consciousness. The man has become humble, +but in proportion the soldier has become exceeding proud. The old +personal whims and ambitions give place to a corporate ambition +and purpose, and this unity of will is symbolized in action by the +simultaneous exactitude of drill, and in dress by the rigid identity +of uniform. Anything which calls attention to the individual, whether +in drill or in dress, is a crime, because it is essential that the +soldier's individuality should be wholly subordinated to the corporate +personality of the regiment. + +As I said before, the personal humility of the soldier has nothing in +it of abject self-depreciation or slackness. On the contrary, every +detail of his appearance, and every most trivial feature of his duty +assumes an immense significance. Slackness in his dress and negligence +in his work are military crimes. In a good regiment the soldier is +striving after perfection all the time. + +And it is when he comes to the supreme test of battle that the fruits +of his training appear. The good soldier has learnt the hardest +lesson of all--the lesson of self-subordination to a higher and bigger +personality. He has learnt to sacrifice everything which belongs to +him individually to a cause that is far greater than any personal +ambitions of his own can ever be. He has learnt to do this so +thoroughly that he knows no fear--for fear is personal. He has learnt +to "hate" father and mother and life itself for the sake of--though he +may not call it that--the Kingdom of God on earth. + +It is a far cry from the old days when one talked of self-realization, +isn't it? I make no claim to be a good soldier; but I think that +perhaps I may be beginning to be one; for if I am asked now whether I +"loathe militarism in all its forms," I think that "the answer is in +the negative," I will even go farther, and say that I hope that some +of the discipline and self-subordination that have availed to send men +calmly to their death in war, will survive in the days of peace, and +make of those who are left better citizens, better workmen, better +servants of the State, better Church men. + + + + +IV + +A MONTH'S REFLECTIONS + + +Timothy and I are on detachment. We are billeted with M. le Cure, and +we mess at the schoolmaster's. Hence we are on good terms with all +parties, for of course a good schoolmaster shrugs his shoulders at +a priest, and a good priest returns the compliment. In war time, +however, the hatchet seems to be buried pretty deep. We have not seen +it sticking out anywhere. + +M. le Cure has a beautiful rose garden, a cask of excellent cider, a +passable Sauterne, and a charming pony. He is a good fellow, I should +think, though without much education. His house--or what I have seen +of it--is the exact opposite of what an English country vicar's +would be. The only sitting-room that I have seen is as neat as an old +maid's. There is a polished floor, an oval polished table on which +repose four large albums at regular intervals, each on its own little +mat. There is a mantelpiece with gilt candlesticks and an ornate clock +under a glass dome. Round the walls are photographs of brother clergy, +the place of honour being assigned to a stout _Chanoine_. The chairs +are stiff and uncomfortable. One of them, which is more imposing +and uncomfortable than the rest, is obviously for the Bishop when he +comes. There are no papers, no books, no ash-trays, no confusion. I +have never seen M. le Cure sit there. I fancy he lives in the kitchen +and in his garden. + +Timothy sleeps in the bed which the Bishop uses, and is told he ought +to feel _tres saint_. + +The wife of the schoolmaster cooks for us. She is an excellent soul. +We give her full marks. She has a smile and an omelette for every +emergency, and waves aside all Timothy's vagaries with "Ah, monsieur, +la jeunesse!" I am not sure that Timothy quite likes it! + +Timothy is immense. He is that rarest of birds, a wholly delightful +egotist. He is the sun, but we all bask and shine with reflected +glory. The men are splendid, because they are his men. I am a great +success because I am his subaltern. Fortunately we all have a sense of +humour and so are highly pleased with ourselves and each other. After +all, if one is a Captain at twenty-two ...! But he's a good soldier, +too, and we all believe in him. Timothy's all right, in spite of _la +jeunesse_! + + * * * * * + +Rain! The men are fifteen in a tent in a sea of mud. Poor beggars! +They are having a thin time. Working parties in the trenches day and +night; every one soaked to the skin; and then a return to a damp, +crowded, muddy tent. No pay, no smokes, and yet they are wonderfully +cheery, and all think that the "Push" is going to end the war. I wish +I thought so! + + * * * * * + +These rats are the limit! The dugout swarms with them. Last night they +ate half my biscuits and a good part of Timothy's clean socks, and +whenever I began to get to sleep one of them would run across my face, +or some other sensitive part of my anatomy, and wake me up. I shall +leave the candle alight to-night, to see if that keeps them away. + + * * * * * + +Last night the rats tried to eat the candle, and very nearly set me on +fire. If it were not for the rain I would try the firestep. + +The men are having a rotten time again--no proper shelter from the +rain, and short rations, to say nothing of remarkably good practice by +the Boche artillery. C----, just out from England, got scuppered this +afternoon. A good boy--made his communion just before we came in. I +suppose he didn't know much about it, and that he is really better off +now; but at the same time it makes one angry. + + * * * * * + +The rain has lifted, so last night I tried the firestep, and got a +good sleep. The absurd thing was that I couldn't wake up properly. I +came on duty at midnight, was roused, got to my feet, and started to +walk along the trench. And then the Nameless Terror, that lurks in +dark corners when one is a small boy, gripped me. I was frightened of +the dark, filled with a sense of impending disaster! It took about +ten minutes to wake properly and shake it off. I must try to get more +sleep somehow; but it is jolly difficult. + + * * * * * + +The great bombardment has begun, the long-promised strafing of the +Boche. According to the gunners they will all be dead, buried, or +dazed when the time comes for us to go over the top. I doubt it! If +they have enough deep dug-outs I don't fancy that the bombardment will +worry them very much. + + * * * * * + +Now we are at rest for a day or two before the Push. I am to be left +out--in charge of carriers. Damn! I might as well be A.S.C. I see +myself counting ration bags while the battalion is charging with +fixed bayonets; and in the evening sending up parties of weary laden +carriers over shell-swept areas, while I myself stay behind at +the Dump. Damn! Damn!! Damn!!! Then I shall receive ironical +congratulations on my "cushy" job. + + * * * * * + +Have just seen the battalion off. I don't start for another five +hours. I loathe war. It is futile, idiotic. I would gladly be out +of the Army to-morrow. Glory is a painted idol, honour a phantasy, +religion a delusion. We wallow in blood and torture to please +a creature of our imagination. We are no better than South Sea +Islanders. + + * * * * * + +Just here the attack was a failure. When I got to the Dump I found the +battalion still there. By an irony of fate I was the only officer of +my company to set foot in the German lines. After a day of idleness +and depression I had to detail a party to carry bombs at top speed to +some relics of the leading battalions, who were still clinging to the +extremest corner of the enemy's front line some distance to our left. +Being fed up with inaction, I took the party myself. It was a long +way. The trenches were choked with wounded and stragglers and troops +who had never been ordered to advance. In many places they were broken +down by shell-fire, in others they were waist-deep in water. By dint +of much shouting and shoving and cursing I managed to get through +with about ten of my men, but had to leave the others to follow with a +sergeant. + +At last we sighted our objective, a cluster of chalk mounds surrounded +with broken wire, shell craters, corpses, wreathed in smoke, dotted +with men. I think we all ran across the ground between our front +line and our objective, though it must have been more or less dead +ground. Anyhow, only one man was hit. When we got close the scene +was absurdly like a conventional battle picture--the sort of picture +that one never believes in for a minute. There was a wild mixture of +regiments--Jocks, Irishmen, Territorials, etc., etc. There was no +proper trench left. There were rifles, a machine gun, a Lewis rifle, +and bombs all going at the same time. There were wounded men sitting +in a kind of helpless stupor; there were wounded trying to drag +themselves back to our own lines; there were the dead of whom no one +took any notice. But the prevailing note was one of utter weariness +coupled with dogged tenacity. + +Here and there were men who were self-conscious, wondering what would +become of themselves. I was one of them, and we were none the better +for it. Most of the fellows, though, had forgotten themselves. They no +longer flinched, or feared. They had got beyond that. They were just +set on clinging to that mound and keeping the Huns at bay until their +officer gave the word to retire. Their spirit was the spirit of the +oarsman, the runner, or the footballer, who has strained himself to +the utmost, who if he stopped to wonder whether he could go on or not +would collapse; but who, because he does not stop to wonder, goes on +miraculously long after he should, by all the laws of nature, have +succumbed to sheer exhaustion. + +Having delivered my bombs into eager hands, I reported to the officer +who seemed to be in charge, and asked if I could do anything. I must +frankly admit that my one hope was that he would not want me to stay. +He began to say how that morning he had reached his objective, and how +for lack of support on his flank, for lack of bombs, for lack of men, +he had been forced back; and how for eight hours he had disputed every +inch of ground till now his men could only cling to these mounds with +the dumb mechanical tenacity of utter exhaustion. "You might go to +H.Q.," he said at last, "and tell them where I am, and that I can't +hold on without ammunition and a barrage." + +I am afraid that I went with joy on that errand. I did not want to +stay on those chalk mounds. + + * * * * * + +I only saw a very little bit of the battle. Thank God it has gone well +elsewhere; but here we are where we started. Day and night we have +done nothing but bring in the wounded and the dead. When one sees the +dead, their limbs crushed and mangled, their features distorted and +blackened, one can only have repulsion for war. It is easy to talk of +glory and heroism when one is away from it, when memory has softened +the gruesome details. But here, in the presence of the mutilated and +tortured dead, one can only feel the horror and wickedness of war. +Indeed it is an evil harvest, sown of pride and arrogance and lust of +power. Maybe through all this evil and pain we shall be purged of many +sins. God grant it! If ever there were martyrs, some of these were +martyrs, facing death and torture as ghastly as any that confronted +the saints of old, and facing it with but little of that fierce +fanatical exaltation of faith that the early Christians had to help +them. + +For these were mostly quiet souls, loving their wives and children +and the little comforts of home life most of all, little stirred by +great emotions or passions. Yet they had some love for liberty, some +faith in God,--not a high and flaming passion, but a quiet insistent +conviction. It was enough to send them out to face martyrdom, though +their lack of imagination left them mercifully ignorant of the +extremity of its terrors. It was enough, when they saw their danger in +its true perspective, to keep them steadfast and tenacious. + +For them "it is finished." _R.I.P._ + + + + +V + +ROMANCE + + +I suppose that there are very few officers or men who have been at the +front for any length of time who would not be secretly, if not openly, +relieved and delighted if they "got a cushy one" and found themselves +_en route_ for "Blighty"; yet in many ways soldiering at the front +is infinitely preferable to soldiering at home. One of the factors +which count most heavily in favour of the front, is the extraordinary +affection of officers for their men. + +In England, officers hardly know their men. They live apart, only meet +on parade, and their intercourse is carried on through the prescribed +channels. Even if you do get keen on a particular squad of recruits, +or a particular class of would-be bombers, you lose them so soon that +your enthusiasm never ripens into anything like intimacy. But at the +front you have your own platoon; and week after week, month after +month, you are living in the closest proximity; you see them all day, +you get to know the character of each individual man and boy, and the +result in nearly every case is this extraordinary affection of which I +have spoken. + +You will find it in the most unlikely subjects. I have heard a Major, +a Regular with, as I thought, a good deal of regimental stiffness, +talk about his men with a voice almost choked with emotion. "When +you see what they have to put up with, and how amazingly cheery they +are through it all, you feel that you can't do enough for them. They +make you feel that you're not fit to black their boots." And then he +went on to tell how it was often the fellows whom in England you had +despaired of, fellows who were always "up at orders," who out at the +front became your right-hand men, the men on whom you found yourself +relying. + +I had a letter not long ago from a gunner Captain, also a Regular, who +has been out almost since the beginning of the war. He wrote: "One of +my best friends has just been killed"; and the "best friend" was not +the fellow he had known at "the shop," or played polo with in India, +or hunted with in Ireland, but a scamp of a telephonist, who had +stolen his whisky and owned up; who had risked his life for him, who +had been a fellow-sportsman who could be relied on in a tight corner +in the most risky of all games. + +There is indeed a glamour and a pathos about the private soldier, +especially when, as so often happens, he is really only a boy. When +you meet him in the trenches, wet, covered with mud, with tired eyes +speaking of long watches and hours of risky work, he never fails to +greet you with a smile, and you love him for it, and feel that nothing +you can do can make up to him for it. For you have slept in a much +more comfortable place than he has. You have had unlimited tobacco +and cigarettes. You have had a servant to cook for you. You have fared +sumptuously compared with him. You don't feel his superior. You don't +want to be "gracious without undue familiarity." Exactly what you want +to do is a bit doubtful--the Major said he wanted to black his boots +for him, and that is perhaps the best way of expressing it. + +When he goes over the top and works away in front of the parapet with +the moon shining full and the machine guns busy all along; when he +gets back to billets, and throws off his cares and bathes and plays +games like any irresponsible schoolboy; even when he breaks bounds and +is found by the M.P. skylarking in ----, you can't help loving him. +Most of all, when he lies still and white with a red stream trickling +from where the sniper's bullet has made a hole through his head, there +comes a lump in your throat that you can't swallow; and you turn away +so that you shan't have to wipe the tears from your eyes. + +Gallant souls, those boys, and all the more gallant because they hate +war so much. Their nerves quiver when a shell or a "Minnie" falls into +the trench near them, and then they smile to hide their weakness. They +hate going over the parapet when the machine guns are playing; so +they don't hesitate, but plunge over with a smile to hide their fears. +Their cure for every mental worry is a smile, their answer to every +prompting of fear is a plunge. They have no philosophy or fanaticism +to help them--only the sporting instinct which is in every healthy +British boy. + +Then there are "the old men," less attractive, less stirring to the +imagination, less sensitive, but who grow upon you more and more as +you get to know them. Any one over twenty-three or so is an "old +man." They have lost the grace, the irresponsibility, the sensibility +of youth. Their eyes and mouths are steadier, their movements more +deliberate. But they are the fellows whom you would choose for a +patrol, or a raid, where a cool head and a stout heart are what is +wanted. It takes you longer to know these. They are less responsive to +your advances. But when you have tested them and they have tested you, +you know that you have that which is stronger than any terror of night +or day, a loyalty which nothing can shake. + +And then when he thinks how little he deserves all this love and +loyalty, the subaltern's heart aches with a feeling that can find no +expression either in word or deed. + +This is a tale that has often been told, and that people in England +know by heart. It cannot be told too often. It cannot be learnt too +well. For the time will come when we shall need to remember it, and +when it will be easy to forget. Will you remember it, O ye people, +when the boy has become a man, and the soldier has become a workman? +But there are other tales to tell. There are the tales of the +sergeant-major and the sergeants, the corporals and the "lance-jacks." +Sergeant-majors, sergeants, and corporals are not romantic figures. If +you think of them at all, you probably think of rumjars and profanity. +Yet they are the very backbone of the Army. I have been a sergeant and +I have been a private soldier, and I know that the latter has much +the better time of the two. He at least has the kind of liberty +which belongs to utter irresponsibility. If he breaks bounds in the +exuberance of his spirits, no one thinks much worse of him as long as +he does not make a song about paying the penalty! + +Of course he has to be punished. So many days of sleeping in the guard +tent, extra fatigues, pack-drill, and perhaps a couple of hours tied +up, as an example to evil-doers. But if he has counted the cost, and +pays the price with a grin, we just say "Young scamp!" and dismiss +the matter. But if a sergeant or a corporal does the same, that's a +very different matter. He has shown himself unfit for his job. He +has betrayed a trust. We cannot forgive him. Responsibility has its +disadvantages. The senior N.C.O. gets no relaxation from discipline. +In the line and out of it he must always be watchful, self-controlled, +orderly. He must never wink. These men have not the glamour of the boy +private; but their high sense of duty and discipline, their keenness +and efficiency, merit all the honour that we can give them. + +Finally--for it would not do for a subaltern to discuss his +superiors--we come to the junior officer. Somehow I fancy that in the +public eye he too is a less romantic figure than the private. One does +not associate him with privations and hardships, but with parcels from +home. Well, it is quite right. He has such a much less uncomfortable +time than his men that he does not deserve or want sympathy on that +score. He is better off in every way. He has better quarters, better +food, more kit, a servant, and in billets far greater liberty. And yet +there is many a man who is now an officer who looks back on his days +as a private with regret. Could he have his time over again ... yes, +he would take a commission; but he would do so, not with any thought +for the less hardship of it, but from a stern sense of duty--the sense +of duty which does not allow a man with any self-respect to refuse to +shoulder a heavier burden when called upon to do so. + +Those apparently irresponsible subalterns whom you see entertaining +their lady friends at the Canton or Ciro's do, when they are at the +front, have very heavy responsibilities. Even in the ordinary routine +of trench life, so many decisions have to be made, with the chance of +a "telling off" whichever way you choose, and the lives of other men +hanging in the balance. Suppose you are detailed for a wiring party, +and you arrive to find a full moon beaming sardonically down at you. +What are you to do? If you go out you may be seen. Half a dozen of +your men may be mown down by a machine gun. You will be blamed and +will blame yourself for not having decided to remain behind the +parapet. If you do not go out you may set a precedent, and night after +night the work will be postponed, till at last it is too late, and +the Hun has got through, and raided the trench. If you hesitate or ask +advice you are lost. You have to make up your mind in an instant, and +to stand by it. If you waver your men will never have confidence in +you again. + +Still more in a push; a junior subaltern is quite likely to find +himself at any time in command of a company, while he may for a day +even have to command the relics of a battalion. I have seen boys +almost fresh from a Public School in whose faces there were two +personalities expressed: the one full of the lighthearted, reckless, +irresponsible vitality of boyhood, and the other scarred with +the anxious lines of one to whom a couple of hundred exhausted +and nerve-shattered men have looked, and not looked in vain, for +leadership and strength in their grim extremity. From a boy in such +a position is required something far more difficult than personal +courage. If we praise the boy soldier for his smile in the face of +shells and machine guns, don't let us forget to praise still more the +boy officer who, in addition to facing death on his own account, has +to bear the responsibility of the lives of a hundred other men. There +is many a man of undoubted courage whose nerve would fail to bear that +strain. + +A day or two ago I was reading _Romance_, by Joseph Conrad and Ford +Madox Hueffer. It is a glorious tale of piracy and adventure in the +West Indies; but for the moment I wondered how it came about that +Conrad, the master of psychology, should have helped to write such +a book. And then I understood. For these boys who hate the war, and +suffer and endure with the smile that is sometimes so difficult, and +long with a great longing for home and peace--some day some of them +will look back on these days and will tell themselves that after all +it was Romance, the adventure, which made their lives worth while. And +they will long to feel once again the stirring of the old comradeship +and love and loyalty, to dip their clasp-knives into the same pot of +jam, and lie in the same dug-out, and work on the same bit of wire +with the same machine gun striking secret terror into their hearts, +and look into each other's eyes for the same courageous smile. For +Romance, after all, is woven of the emotions, especially the elemental +ones of love and loyalty and fear and pain. + +We men are never content! In the dull routine of normal life we sigh +for Romance, and sometimes seek to create it artificially, stimulating +spurious passions, plunging into muddy depths in search of it. Now we +have got it we sigh for a quiet life. But some day those who have not +died will say: "Thank God I have lived! I have loved, and endured, and +trembled, and trembling, dared. I have had my Romance." + + + + +VI + +IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS + + +I + + SCENE. _A field in Flanders. All round the edge are bivouacs, + built of sticks and waterproof sheets. Three men are squatting + round a small fire, waiting for a couple of mess-tins of water + to boil_. + +BILL (_gloomily_). The last three of the old lot! Oo's turn next? + +FRED. Wot's the bleedin' good of bein' dahn in the mahf abaht it? Give +me the bleedin' 'ump, you do. + +JIM. Are we dahn-'earted? Not 'alf, we ain't! + +BILL. I don't know as I cares. Git it over, I sez. 'Ave done wiv it! +I dessay as them wot's gone West is better off nor wot we are, arter +all. + +JIM. Orlright, old sport, you go an' look for the V.C., and we'll pick +up the bits an' bury 'em nice an' deep! + +BILL. If this 'ere bleedin' war don't finish soon that's wot I +bleedin' well will go an' do. Wish they'd get a move on an' finish it. + +FRED. If ever I gets 'ome agin, I'll never do another stroke in +my natural. The old woman can keep me, ---- 'er, an' if she don't +I'll--well--'er ---- ----. + +JIM (_indignantly_). Nice sort o' bloke you are! Arter creatin' abaht +ole Bill makin' you miserable, you goes on to plan 'ow you'll make +other folks miserable! Wot's the bleedin' good o' that? Keep smilin', +I sez, an' keep other folks smilin' too, if you can. If ever I gets +'ome I'll go dahn on my bended, I will, and I'll be a different sort +o' bloke to wot I been afore. Swelp me, Bob, I will! My missus won't +'ave no cause to wish as I've been done in. + +BILL. Ah well, it don't much matter. We're all most like to go afore +this war's finished. + +JIM. If yer goes yer goes, and that's all abaht it. A bloke's got to +go some day, and fer myself I'd as soon get done in doin' my dooty as +I would die in my bed. I ain't struck on dyin' afore my time, and I +don't know as I'm greatly struck on livin', but, whichever it is, you +got ter make the best on it. + +BILL (_meditatively_). I woulden mind stoppin' a bullet fair an' +square; but I woulden like one of them 'orrible lingerin' deaths. +"Died o' wounds" arter six munfs' mortal hagony--that's wot gets at +me. Git it over an' done wiv, I sez. + +FRED (_querulously_). Ow, chuck it, Bill. You gives me the creeps, you +do. + +JIM. I knowed a bloke onest in civil life wot died a lingerin' death. +Lived in the second-floor back in the same 'ouse as me an' my missus, +'e did. Suffered somefink' 'orrible, 'e did, an' lingered more nor +five year. Yet I reckon 'e was one o' the best blokes as ever I come +acrost. Went to 'eaven straight, 'e did, if ever any one did. Wasn't +'alf glad ter go, neither. "I done my bit of 'ell, Jim," 'e sez to +me, an' looked that 'appy you'd a' thought as 'e was well agin. Shan't +never forget 'is face, I shan't. An' I'd sooner be that bloke, for all +'is sufferin's, than I'd be old Fred 'ere, an' live to a 'undred. + +BILL (_philosophically_). You'm right, matey. This is a wale o' tears, +as the 'ymn sez, and them as is out on it is best off, if so be as +they done their dooty in that state o' life.... Where's the corfee, +Jim? The water's on the bile. + + + + +VII + +THE FEAR OF DEATH IN WAR + + +I am not a psychologist, and I have not seen many people die in their +beds; but I think it is established that very few people are afraid of +a natural death when it comes to the test. Often they are so weak that +they are incapable of emotion. Sometimes they are in such physical +pain that death seems a welcome deliverer. + +But a violent death such as death in battle is obviously a different +matter. It comes to a man when he is in the full possession of his +health and vigour, and when every physical instinct is urging him +to self-preservation. If a man feared death in such circumstances +one could not be surprised, and yet in the present war hundreds of +thousands of men have gone to meet practically certain destruction +without giving a sign of terror. + +The fact is that at the moment of a charge men are in an absolutely +abnormal condition. + +I do not know how to describe their condition in scientific terms; +but there is a sensation of tense excitement combined with a sort of +uncanny calm. Their emotions seem to be numbed. Noises, sights, and +sensations which would ordinarily produce intense pity, horror, or +dread, have no effect on them at all, and yet never was their mind +clearer, their sight, hearing, etc., more acute. They notice all sorts +of little details which would ordinarily pass them by, but which now +thrust themselves on their attention with absurd definiteness--absurd +because so utterly incongruous and meaningless. Or they suddenly +remember with extraordinary clearness some trivial incident of their +past life, hitherto unremembered, and not a bit worth remembering! But +with the issue before them, with victory or death or the prospect of +eternity, their minds blankly refuse to come to grips. + +No; it is not at the moment of a charge that men fear death. As in +the case of those who die in bed, Nature has an anesthetic ready for +the emergency. It is before an attack that a man is more liable to +fear--before his blood is hot, and while he still has leisure to +think. The trouble may begin a day or two in advance, when he is first +told of the attack which is likely to mean death to himself and so +many of his chums. This part is comparatively easy. It is fairly easy +to be philosophic if one has plenty of time. One indulges in regrets +about the home one may never see again. One is rather sorry for +oneself; but such self-pity is not wholly unpleasant. One feels mildly +heroic, which is not wholly disagreeable either. Very few men are +afraid of death in the abstract. Very few men believe in hell, or are +tortured by their consciences. They are doubtful about after-death, +hesitating between a belief in eternal oblivion and a belief in a new +life under the same management as the present; and neither prospect +fills them with terror. If only one's "people" would be sensible, one +would not mind. + +But as the hour approaches when the attack is due to be launched the +strain becomes more tense. The men are probably cooped up in a very +small space. Movement is very restricted. Matches must not be struck. +Voices must be hushed to a whisper. Shells bursting and machine guns +rattling bring home the grim reality of the affair. It is then more +than at any other time in an attack that a man has to "face the +spectres of the mind," and lay them if he can. Few men care for those +hours of waiting. + +Of all the hours of dismay that come to a soldier there are really few +more trying to the nerves than when he is sitting in a trench under +heavy fire from high-explosive shells or bombs from trench mortars. +You can watch these bombs lobbed up into the air. You see them slowly +wobble down to earth, there to explode with a terrific detonation +that sets every nerve in your body a-jangling. You can do nothing. You +cannot retaliate in any way. You simply have to sit tight and hope +for the best. Some men joke and smile; but their mirth is forced. Some +feign stoical indifference, and sit with a paper and a pipe; but as a +rule their pipes are out and their reading a pretence. There are few +men, indeed, whose hearts are not beating faster, and whose nerves are +not on edge. + +But you can't call this "the fear of death"; it is a purely physical +reaction of danger and detonation. It is not fear of death as death. +It is not fear of hurt as hurt. It is an infinitely intensified +dislike of suspense and uncertainty, sudden noise and shock. It +belongs wholly to the physical organism, and the only cure that I +know is to make an act of personal dissociation from the behaviour of +one's flesh. Your teeth may chatter and your knees quake, but as long +as the real you disapproves and derides this absurdity of the flesh, +the composite you can carry on. Closely allied to the sensation of +nameless dread caused by high explosives is that caused by gas. No one +can carry out a relief in the trenches without a certain anxiety and +dread if he knows that the enemy has gas cylinders in position and +that the wind is in the east. But this, again, is not exactly the +fear of death; but much more a physical reaction to uncertainty and +suspense combined with the threat of physical suffering. + +Personally, I believe that very few men indeed fear death. The vast +majority experience a more or less violent physical shrinking from +the pain of death and wounds, especially when they are obliged to be +physically inactive, and when they have nothing else to think about. +This kind of dread is, in the case of a good many men, intensified +by darkness and suspense, and by the deafening noise and shock that +accompany the detonation of high explosives. But it cannot properly be +called the fear of death, and it is a purely physical reaction which +can be, and nearly always is, controlled by the mind. + +Last of all there is the repulsion and loathing for the whole business +of war, with its bloody ruthlessness, its fiendish ingenuity, and +its insensate cruelty, that comes to a man after a battle, when the +tortured and dismembered dead lie strewn about the trench, and the +wounded groan from No-Man's-Land. But neither is that the fear of +death. It is a repulsion which breeds hot anger more often than cold +fear, reckless hatred of life more often than abject clinging to it. + +The cases where any sort of fear, even for a moment, obtains the +mastery of a man are very rare. Sometimes in the case of a boy, +whose nerves are more sensitive than a man's, and whose habit of +self-control is less formed, a sudden shock will upset his mental +balance. Sometimes a very egotistical man will succumb to danger long +drawn out. The same applies to men who are very introspective. I have +seen a man of obviously low intelligence break down on the eve of an +attack. The anticipation of danger makes many men "windy," especially +officers who are responsible for other lives than their own. But even +where men are afraid it is generally not death that they fear. Their +fear is a physical and instinctive shrinking from hurt, shock, and the +unknown, which instinct obtains the mastery only through surprise, or +through the exhaustion of the mind and will, or through a man being +excessively self-centred. It is not the fear of death rationally +considered; but an irrational physical instinct which all men possess, +but which almost all can control. + + + + +VIII + +IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS + + +II + + SCENE. _A dug-out in a wood somewhere in Flanders. Officers at + tea._ + +HANCOCK. Damned glad to be out of that infernal firing trench, +anyway. (_A dull report is heard in the distance._) There goes another +torpedo! Wonder who's copt it this time! + +SMITH. For Christ's sake talk about something else! + +HANCOCK (_ignoring him_). Are we coming back to the same trenches, +sir? + +CAPTAIN DODD. 'Spect so. + +HANCOCK. At the present rate we shall last another two spells. I hate +this sort of bisnay. You go on month after month losing fellows the +whole time, and at the end of it you're exactly where you started. I +wish they'd get a move on. + +WHISTON. Tired of life? + +HANCOCK. If you call this life, yes! If this damned war is going on +another two years, I hope to God I don't live to see the end of it. + +SMITH. If ever I get home ...! + +WHISTON. Well? + +SMITH. Won't I paint the town red, that's all! + +WHISTON. If ever I get home ... well, I guess I'll go home. No more +razzle-dazzle for master! No, there's a little girl awaiting, and I +know she thinks of me. Shan't wait any longer. + +HANCOCK (_heavily_). Don't think a chap's got any right to marry a +girl under present circs. It's ten to one she's a widow before she's +a mother. + +SMITH. Oh, shut up! + +CAPTAIN DODD (_gently_). To some women the kid would be just the one +thing that made life bearable. + +HANCOCK (_reddening_). Sorry, sir; forgot you'd just done it. Course +you're right. Depends absolutely on the girl. + +CAPTAIN DODD. Thanks. I say, Whiston, I'm going to B.H.Q. Care to come +along? + + (_They go out together._) + + SCENE. _A path through a wood_. CAPTAIN DODD _and_ WHISTON + _walking together, followed by a_ LANCE-CORPORAL. + +DODD. D'you believe in presentiments, Whiston? + +WHISTON (_doubtfully_). A year ago I should have laughed at you for +asking. Now ... + +DODD. More things in heaven and earth ...? + +WHISTON. My rationalism is always being upset! + +DODD. How exactly? + +WHISTON. For instance, I simply can't believe that old John is +finished. Can you? + +DODD (_quietly_). No. + +WHISTON. Funny thing. As far as I'm concerned I can quite imagine +myself just snuffing out. You can put one word on my grave, if I have +one--"Napu." But as for John, no. I want something else. Something +about Death being scored off after all. + +DODD. I know. "O Death, where is thy sting? O Grave, where is thy +victory?" + +WHISTON. Just that. Mind you, I don't think I'm afraid of Death. I +don't want to get killed. But if I saw him coming I think I could +smile, and feel that after all he wasn't getting much of a bargain. +But the idea of his getting old John sticks in my gullet. I believe in +all sorts of things for him. Resurrection and life and Heaven, and all +that. + +DODD. What do you think about it, Corporal? + +LANCE-CORPORAL. Same as Mr. Whiston, sir. + +WHISTON. But what about presentiments? + +DODD. Oh, I don't know. Funny thing; but all through this fortnight +I've been absolutely certain that I was not for it. + +LANCE-CORPORAL. Beg pardon, sir, we noticed that, sir! + +WHISTON. Well, it's practically over now. + +DODD. I'm not so sure. I'm not in a funk, you know. It's simply that I +don't feel so sure. + +WHISTON. Oh, rot, sir! I don't believe in that sort of presentiment. + +DODD. What do you think, Corporal? + +LANCE-CORPORAL. I think you goes when your time comes, sir. But it +won't come to-night, sir. Not after all we been through this spell, +and the spell just finished. + +DODD. I believe you're right, Corporal. We shall go when our time +comes, and not before. I like that idea, you know. It means one hasn't +got to worry. + +WHISTON. If it means that you go on as you've done the last fortnight, +it's a damnable doctrine, sir. You've no business to go taking +unnecessary risks simply because you've got bitten by Mohammedanism. + +DODD (_thoughtfully_). You're right, too, Whiston. "Thou shalt not +tempt the Lord thy God." One shouldn't take unnecessary risks. Mind +you, I don't admit that I have. It just enables one to do one's job +with a quiet mind, that's all. + + +TWO DAYS LATER + + SCENE. _A billet._ HANCOCK _and_ SMITH. + +HANCOCK. Damn! + +SMITH. What's up? Aren't you satisfied? The brigade's bound to go back +and re-form now, and that means that we shan't be in the trenches for +a couple of months at least. We may even go where there's a pretty +girl or two. My word! + +HANCOCK. Damnation! + +SMITH (_genuinely astonished_). What the hell's wrong? Any one would +think you liked the trenches! Personally, I don't care if I never see +them again. England's full of nice young, bright young things crying +to get out. Let 'em all come! They can have my job and welcome! + +HANCOCK (_to himself_). God! Why Dodd and Whiston? Why, why, why? Why +not me? Why just the fellows we can't afford to lose? + +SMITH. Oh, for God's sake stow it! What the hell's the good of going +on like that? Of course I'm sorry for them and all that. But I don't +see that it's going to help them to make oneself miserable about it. + +HANCOCK (_fiercely_). Sorry for them! It's not them I'm sorry for! +They ... they're the lucky ones! God! I suppose that's the answer! +They'd earned it! + +SMITH (_satirically_). Have you turned pi? We shall have you saying +the prayers that you learnt at your mother's knee next, I suppose! +I shall have to tell the Padre, and he'll preach a sermon about it! +I should never have thought you would have been _frightened_ into +religion! + +HANCOCK. Frightened! You little swine! _You_ talk about being +frightened after last night! I tell you I'd rather be lying out there +with Dodd and Whiston than be sitting here with you. Frightened into +religion! + +SMITH. Oh, I suppose you're the next candidate for death or glory! +Good luck to you! I'm not competing. I'll do my job; but I'm not going +to make a fool of myself. Dodd and Whiston deserved all they got. +You're right there. You'll get what you deserve some day, I expect! +Don't look at me like that. I've said I'm sorry, and all that. But +it's the truth I'm speaking, all the same. + +HANCOCK. And you'll get what you deserve too, I suppose, which is to +live in your own company till the end of your miserable existence. I +won't deprive you of your reward more than I can help, I promise you! + + (HANCOCK _goes out._) + + + + +IX + +THE WISDOM OF "A STUDENT IN ARMS" + + +It is no good trying to fathom "things" to the bottom; they have not +got one. + +Knowledge is always descriptive, and never fundamental. We can +describe the appearance and conditions of a process; but not the way +of it. + +Agnosticism is a fundamental fact. It is the starting-point of the +wise man who has discovered that it needs eternity to study infinity. + +Agnosticism, however, is no excuse for indolence. Because we cannot +know all, we need not therefore be totally ignorant. + +The true wisdom is that in which all knowledge is subordinate to +practical aims, and blended into a working philosophy of life. + +The true wisdom is that it is not what a man does, or has, or says, +that matters; but what he is. + +This must be the aim of practical philosophy--to make a man be +_something_. + +The world judges a man by his station, inherited or acquired. God +judges by his character. To be our best we must share God's viewpoint. + +To the world death is always a tragedy; to the Christian it is never a +tragedy unless a man has been a contemptible character. + +Religion is the widening of a man's horizon so as to include God. + +It is in the nature of a speculation, but its returns are immediate. + +True religion means betting one's life that there is a God. + +Its immediate fruits are courage, stability, calm, unselfishness, +friendship, generosity, humility, and hope. + +Religion is the only possible basis of optimism. + +Optimism is the essential condition of progress. + +One is what one believes oneself to be. If one believes oneself to be +an animal one becomes bestial; if one believes oneself spiritual one +becomes Divine. + +Faith is an effective force whose measure has never yet been taken. + +Man is the creature of heredity and environment. He can only rise +superior to circumstances by bringing God into environment of which he +is conscious. + +The recognition of God's presence upsets the balance of a man's +environment, and means a new birth into a new life. + +The faculties which perceive God increase with use like any other +perceptive faculties. + +Belief in God may be an illusion; but it is an illusion that pays. + +If belief in God is illusion, happy is he who is deluded! He gains +this world and thinks he will gain the next. + +The disbeliever loses this world, and risks losing the next. + +To be the centre of one's universe is misery. To have one's universe +centred in God is the peace that passeth understanding. + +Greatness is founded on inward peace. + +Energy is only effective when it springs from deep calm. + +The pleasure of life lies in contrasts; the fear of contrasts is a +chain that binds most men. + +In the hour of danger a man is proven. The boaster hides, and the +egotist trembles. He whose care is for others forgets to be afraid. + +Men live for eating and drinking, passion and wealth. They die for +honour. + +Blessed is he of whom it has been said that he so loved giving that he +even gave his own life. + + + + +X + +IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS + + +III + + SCENE. _A trench unpleasantly near the firing line. There + has been an hour's intense bombardment by the British, with + suitable retaliation by the Boches. The retaliation is just + dying down._ + + CHARACTERS. ALBERT--_Round-eyed, rotund, red-cheeked, + yellow-haired, and deliberate; in civil life probably a + drayman._ JIM--_Small, lean, sallow, grey-eyed, with a kind + of quiet restlessness; in civil life probably a mechanic with + leanings towards Socialism._ POZZIE--_A thick-set, low-browed, + impassive, silent_ _country youth, with a face the colour of + the soil._ JINKS--_An old soldier, red, lean, wrinkled, with + very blue eyes. His face is rough-hewn, almost grotesque + like a gargoyle. In his eyes there is a perpetual glint of + humour, and in the poise of his head a certain irrepressible + jauntiness._ + +ALBERT (_whose eyes are more staring than ever, his cheeks pendulous +and crimson, his general air that of a partly deflated air-cushion_). +Gawd's truth! + +JINKS (_wagging his head_). Well, my old sprig o' mint, what's wrong +wi' you? + +ALBERT. It ain't right. (_Sententiously_) It's agin natur'. Flesh an' +blood weren't made for this sort o' think. + +JIM. It ain't flesh an' blood that can't stand it. It's Mind. Look at +old Pozzie. 'E's flesh an' blood, and don't turn an 'air! For myself +I'll go potty one o' these days. + +JINKS (_slapping POZZIE on the back_). You don't take no notice, do +you, old lump o' duff? + +POZZIE. Oi woulden moind if I got moy rations; but a chap can't keep a +good 'eart if 'e's got an empty stummick. + +JIM (_sarcastically_). You keep yer 'eart in yer stomach, don't yer? +You ain't got no mind, you ain't. Jinks was born potty, an' the rest +of us'll all go potty except you. It's you an' yer Ally Sloper's +Cavalry what'll win the war, I don't think! + +ALBERT. What I wants ter know is 'ow long the bleedin' war's a-goin' +ter last. If it goes on much longer I'll be potty if I ain't a gone +'un. + +JIM. There's only one way of ending it as I knows on. + +ALBERT. What's that, matey? + +JIM. Put all the bleedin' politicians on both sides in the bleedin' +trenches. Give 'em a week's bombardment, an' send 'em away for a week +to make peace, with a promise of a fortnight's intense at the end of +it if they've failed. They'd find a way, sure enough. + +ALBERT (admiringly). Ah, that they would an' all. If old "Wait +and See" 'ad been 'ere these last four days 'e wouldn't talk about +fightin' to the last man! + +JINKS. Don't talk stoopid. 'Oo began the bloomin' war? Don't yer know +what you're fightin' for? D'you want ter leave the 'Uns in France an' +Belgium an' Serbia an' all? It ain't fer us to make peace. It's fer +the 'Uns. An' if you are done in, you got to go under some day. I +ain't sure as they ain't the lucky ones what's got it over and done +with. And arter all, it's not us what's not proper. The 'Uns 'ave 'ad +two fer our one. + +ALBERT. They got dug-outs as deep as 'ell, it don't touch 'em. + +JINKS. (_but without conviction_). Don't talk silly. + +POZZIE. Oi reckon we got to go through with it. But they didn't ought +to give a chap short rations. That's what takes the 'eart out of a +chap. + + + + +XI + +LETTER TO AN ARMY CHAPLAIN[2] + + +_April 17, 1916._ + +Thank you very much for your letter of a week ago, which I should +have tried to answer before if I had had time. I am afraid that your +confidence in me as an oracle will be severely shaken when I confess +that I was once on the eve of being ordained, and that in the end +I funked it because it seemed such an awfully difficult job, and I +couldn't see my way to going through with it. + +[Footnote 2: This chapter is the actual text of a letter from "A +Student in Arms," and like the most of the other chapters appeared +originally in the _Spectator_.] + +However, I must try to answer your letter as best I can, and I hope +that you will not mind my speaking plainly what I think, and will +remember that I do so in no spirit of superiority, but very humbly, as +one who has funked the great work that you have had the pluck to take +up, and who has even failed in the little bit of work that he himself +did try and do. This last means that I have no business to be an +officer. It was the biggest mistake in my life, for my position in the +ranks did give me a hold on the fellows, the strength of which I have +only realized since I left. + +Now then to the point. As I understand you, your difficulty is that +you feel that you must devote yourself to strengthening a very few men +who are already Churchmen, and to whom you can talk in the language +of the Church of things which you know they want to hear about, or +you must appeal to the crowd of those who are merely good fellows and +often sad scamps too, who must be caught with buns and cinemas and who +are very difficult to get any farther. + +I fancy that you, like me, when you see a fine dashing young fellow, +with a touch of honesty and recklessness and wonderful mystery of +youth in his eyes, love him as a brother, and long to do something to +keep him clean, and to keep him from the sordid things to which you +and I know well enough he will descend in the long run if one cannot +put the love of clean, wholesome life into his heart. But how to get +at him? If you talk to him about his soul you disgust him, and you +feel a sort of sneaking sympathy with him too. It does not seem the +thing to make a chap self-conscious and a bit of a prig when he is +not one to start with. On the other hand, if you just keep to buns and +cinemas you never get any farther. Well, it is a big difficulty. The +only experience that I have had which counts at all is experience that +I gained while trying to run a boys' club in South London, and you +must not think me egotistical if I tell you what seems to me to have +been the secret of any power that I seem to have had over fellows. + +At first I used to have a short service at the close of the club every +evening, to which most of the boys used to stay. I also had a service +on Sunday afternoon. Something of the same sort might perhaps be +possible in the Y.M.C.A. tent if there is one where you are. When I +was talking to them at these services I always used to try and make +them feel that Christ was the fulfilment of all the best things that +they admired, that He was their natural hero. I would tell them some +story of heroism and meanness contrasted, of courage and cowardice, of +noble forgiveness and vile cruelty, and so get them on the side of the +angels. Then I would try and spring it upon them that Christ was the +Lord of the heroes and the brave men and the noble men, and that He +was fighting against all that was mean and cruel and cowardly, and +that it was up to them to take their stand by His side if they wanted +to make the world a little better instead of a little worse, and I +would try to show them how in little practical ways in their homes and +at their work and in the club they could do a bit for Christ. + +Well, they listened pretty well, and I think that they agreed in +a general sort of way, only 'they knew that I was a richish man in +comparison with them, and that I didn't have their difficulties to +contend with, and that all tended to undo the effect of what I had +said. And then accident gave me a sort of clue to the way to get them +to take one seriously. For some idiotic reason--I really couldn't say +just what it was--I dressed up as a tramp one day, and spent a night +in a casual ward. I didn't do it for any very worthy motive, and I +didn't mean any one to know about it; but it got round, and I suddenly +found that it had caught the imaginations of some of the fellows, and +I realized that if one was to have any power over them one must do +symbolic things to show them that one meant what one said about love +being really better than money, and all that sort of thing. So in +rather a half-hearted way I did try to do things which would show +them that I was in earnest. I took a couple of rooms in a little +cottage in a funny little bug-ridden court, instead of living at the +mission-house. I went out to Australia steerage to see why emigration +of London boys was not a success, and when war broke out I enlisted, +although I had previously held a commission. And all these little +things, though on reasonable grounds often rather indefensible, +undoubtedly had the effect of making my South London boys take me +more seriously than they did at first. Well, I am quite sure that with +Tommies, if ever you get a chance of doing something in the way of +sharing their privations and dangers when you aren't obliged to, or of +showing in practical ways humility and unselfishness, that will endear +you to them, and give you weight with them more than anything else. In +my time in the ranks I had that proved over and over again. If once +I was able to do even a small kindness for a fellow which involved a +bit of unnecessary trouble, he would never forget it, and would repay +me a thousand times over. I was a sergeant for about nine months in +England, and had one or two chances. Then I reverted to the ranks, +and for that the men could not do enough to show me kindness. (It was +my not valuing rank and comparative comfort for its own sake that +appealed to them.) Continually I have reaped a most gigantic reward of +goodwill for actions which cost very little, and which were not always +done from the motives imputed. + +I am not swanking--at least, I don't mean to--but that is just my +experience, that with Tommy it is actions, and specially actions that +imply and symbolize humility, courage, unselfishness, etc., that +count ten thousand times more than the best sermons in the world. I am +afraid that all this is not much good because you are an officer, and +your course of action is very clearly marked out for you by authority. +But I do say that if ever you have a chance of showing that you are +willing to share the often hard and sometimes humiliating lot of the +men it is that which above all things will give you power with them; +just as it is the Cross of Christ, and the spitting and the mocking +and the scourging, and the degradation of His exposure in dying, that +gives Him His power far more than even the Sermon on the Mount. After +all, it is always what costs most that is best worth having, and if +you only see Tommy in his easiest moments, when he is at the Y.M.C.A. +or the club, you see him at the time when he is least impressionable +in a permanent manner. + +Well, I must apologize for writing such an egotistical and intimate +sort of letter on so slight a provocation. But this that I have said +is all that my experience has taught me about influencing the Tommy. + +No doubt there are other ways; but I have not been able to strike +them. + +Yours very truly, DONALD HANKEY, 2nd Lieut. + +P.S.--Of course in becoming a Second Lieutenant I have dished my own +influence most effectually. It has often appeared to me that among +ordinary working men humility was considered the Christian virtue _par +excellence_. Humility combined with love is so rare, I suppose, and +that is why it is marvelled at. + + + + +XII + +"DON'T WORRY" + + +This is at present the soldier's favourite chorus at the front-- + + "What's the use of worrying? + It never was worth while! + Pack up your troubles in your old kit-bag + And Smile, Smile, Smile!" + +Not a bad chorus, either, for the trenches! You can't stop a shell +from bursting in your trench, even if Mr. Rawson can! You can't stop +the rain, or prevent a light from going up just as you are half-way +over the parapet ... so what on earth is the use of worrying? If you +can't alter things, you must accept them, and make the best of them. + +Yet some men do worry, and by so doing effectually destroy their peace +of mind without doing any one any good. What is worse, it is often the +religious man who worries. I have even heard those whose care was for +the soldier's soul, deplore the fact that he did not worry! I have +heard it said that the soldier is so careless, realizes his position +so little, is so hard to touch! And, on the other hand, I have heard +the soldier say that he did not want religion, because it would make +him worry. Strange, isn't it, if Christianity means worry and anxiety, +and if it is only the heathen who is cheerful and free from care? Yet +the feeling that this is so undoubtedly exists, and it must have some +foundation. Perhaps it is one of the subjects which ought to engage +the attention of Churchmen in these days of "repentance and hope." + +Of course, worrying is about as un-Christian as anything can +be. [Greek: "me merimnate te psyche umon"]--"Don't worry about your +life"--is the Master's express command. In fact, the call of Christ is +a call to something very like the cheerfulness of the soldier in the +trenches. It is a call to a life of external turmoil and internal +peace. "I came not to bring peace, but a sword"; "take up your +cross and follow Me"; "ye shall be hated"; "he that would save his +life shall lose it." It is a call to take risks, to risk poverty, +unpopularity, humiliation, death. It is a call to follow the way of +the Cross. But the way of the Cross is also the way of peace, the +peace of God that passeth understanding. It is a way of freedom from +all cares, and anxieties, and fears; but not a way of escape from them. + +Yet worrying is often a feature of the actual Churchman. The actual +Churchman is often a man whose conscience is an incubus. He can do +nothing without weighing motives and calculating results. It makes +him introspective to an extent that is positively morbid. He is +continually probing himself to discover whether his motives are really +pure and disinterested, continually trying to decide whether he is +"worthy" or "fit" to undertake this or that responsibility, or to +face this or that eventuality. He is full of suspicion of himself, +of self-distrust. In the trenches he is always wondering whether he +is fit to die, whether he will acquit himself worthily in a crisis, +whether he has done anything that he ought not to have done, or left +undone anything that he ought to have done. Especially if he is an +officer, his responsibility weighs on him terribly, and I have known +more than one good fellow and conscientious Churchman worry himself +into thinking that he was unfit for his responsibilities as an +officer, and ask to be relieved of them. + +There must be something wrong about the Christianity of such men. +Their over-conscientiousness seems to create a wholly wrong sense +of proportion, an exaggerated sense of the significance of their own +actions and characters which is as far removed as can be from the +childlike humility which Christ taught. The truth seems to be that we +lay far too much stress on conscience, self-examination, and personal +salvation, and that we trust the Holy Spirit far too little. + +If we look to the teaching of Christ, we do not find any +recommendation to meticulous self-analysis, but rather we are taught +a kind of spiritual recklessness, an unquestioning confidence in what +seem to be right impulses, and that quite regardless of results. We +are not told to be careful to spend each penny to the best advantage; +but we are told that if our money is preventing us from entering the +Kingdom, we had better give it all away. We are not told to set a high +value on our lives, and to spend them with care for the good of the +Kingdom. On the contrary, we are told to risk our lives recklessly +if we would preserve them. A sense of anxious responsibility is +discouraged. If our limbs cause us to offend, we are advised to cut +them off. + +The whole teaching of the Gospels is that we have got to find freedom +and peace in trusting ourselves implicitly to the care of God. We +have got to follow what we think right quite recklessly, and leave the +issue to God; and in judging between right and wrong we are only given +two rules for our guidance. Everything which shows love for God and +love for man is right, and everything which shows personal ambition +and anxiety is wrong. + +What all this means as far as the trenches are concerned is +extraordinarily clear. The Christian is advised not to be too +pushing or ambitious. He is advised to "take the lowest room." But +if he is told to move up higher, he has got to go. If he is given +responsibility, there is no question of refusing it. He has got to do +his best and leave the issue to God. If he does well, he will be given +more responsibility. But there is no need to worry. The same formula +holds good for the new sphere. Let him do his best and leave the issue +to God. If he does badly, well, if he did his best, that means that +he was not fit for the job, and he must be perfectly willing to take a +humbler job, and do his best at that. + +As for personal danger, he must not think of it. If he is killed, that +is a sign that he is no longer indispensable. Perhaps he is wanted +elsewhere. The enemy can only kill the body, and the body is not the +important thing about him. Every man who goes to war must, if he is to +be happy, give his body, a living sacrifice, to God and his country. +It is no longer his. He need not worry about it. The peace of God +which passeth all understanding simply comes from not worrying about +results because they are God's business and not ours, and in trusting +implicitly all impulses that make for love of God and man. Few of us +perhaps will ever attain to a full measure of such faith; but at least +we can make sure that our "Christianity" brings us nearer to it. + + + + +XIII + +IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS + + +IV + +_AU COIFFEUR_ + + SCENE. _A barber's shop in a small French town about thirty + miles from the front. A_ SUBALTERN _and a stout_ BOURGEOIS + _are waiting their turn_. + +BOURGEOIS. Is it that it is the mud of the trenches on the boots of +Monsieur? + +SUBALTERN. Ah! but no, Monsieur, for then it would reach to my waist! + +BOURGEOIS. Nevertheless, Monsieur is but recently come from the +trenches, is it not so? + +SUBALTERN. Yes, I am arrived from the trenches yesterday. + +BOURGEOIS. Then Monsieur has assisted at the great attack! + +SUBALTERN. Oh, yes, I helped a very little bit. + +BOURGEOIS. There have been immense losses, is it not so? + +SUBALTERN (_vaguely_). There are always great losses when one attacks. + +BOURGEOIS. Ah! but much greater than one expected--I have seen, I, the +wounded coming down the river. + +SUBALTERN. I--I have always expected great losses. + +BOURGEOIS. 'Tis true. There are always great losses when one attacks. +But all goes well, Monsieur, is it not so? + +SUBALTERN. It is difficult to estimate the success of an attack until +after several weeks. But I think that all goes well. + +BOURGEOIS. But yes, the French, they have had a great success, and +also the English. The English are wonderful. Their equipment! It is +that which astonishes me. Everything is complete. They say that +the English have saved France; but the French also, they have saved +England, is it not so, Monsieur? + +SUBALTERN. But we are saving each other! + +BOURGEOIS. Good! We are saving each other! Very good! But after the +war, Monsieur, England will fight against France, _hein_? + +SUBALTERN. Never! + +BOURGEOIS. Never? + +SUBALTERN. Never in life! + +BOURGEOIS. You think so? + +SUBALTERN. We do not love war. We do not seek war. It is only when a +nation is so execrable that one is compelled to fight, as have been +the Germans, that we make war. + +BOURGEOIS. You do not love war, eh? Before the war you had a very +small Army, about three hundred thousand, is it not so? And now you +have about three million. You do not love war, you others. + +SUBALTERN. The Germans thought that they loved war, but I do not +believe that they will love it very much longer! + +BOURGEOIS. No! The war will give them the stomach-ache. They will love +it no longer! + +COIFFEUR. But these English, whom did they fight before? The Boers, +was it not? + +SUBALTERN. Yes, but a great many English think now that it was a +_betise_. There was also great provocation. And nevertheless, who +knows if there was not in that affair also a German plot? + +BOURGEOIS. It is very likely. Then Monsieur thinks that we are true +friends, the English and the French? + +SUBALTERN. But yes, Monsieur, because we love, both of us, liberty and +peace. + + + + +XIV + +A PASSING IN JUNE, 1915 + + +PROLOGUE + + SCENE. _The parlour of an Auberge._ + + PERSONS. _A stoist motherly_ MADAME, _a wrinkled fatherly_ + MONSIEUR, _and a plain but pleasant_ MA'MSELLE. _Some English + soldiers drinking_. CECIL _is talking in French to_ MONSIEUR, + _and they are all very friendly_. + +MADAME. Alors, vous n'avez pas encore ete aux tranchees? + +CECIL. Mais non, Madame, peut-etre ce soir. + +(MONSIEUR _and_ MADAME _exchange glances_. CECIL _rises to go._) + +CECIL. A Jeudi, Monsieur, Madame, Ma'mselle. + +MONSIEUR, MADAME, AND MA'MSELLE (_in chorus_). A Jeudi, Monsieur. + +MADAME (_earnestly_). Bon courage, Monsieur! + + (_Curtain_) + + +ACT I. DAWN + + CECIL _is discovered lying behind a wall of sandbags. On one + side are the sandbags, and on the other an idyllic spring scene, + with flowers and orchards seen in the half-light of a spring + morning. The dawn breaks gently, and soon bullets begin to ping + through the air, flattening themselves against the sandbags, or + passing over_ CECIL's _head. He wakes and yawns, and then + composes himself with his eyes open._ + + _Enter Allegorical personages_: FATHER SUN, MOTHER EARTH, _and + a chorus of_ GRASSES, POPPIES, CORNFLOWERS, RAGGED ROBINS, + DAISIES, BEETLES, BEES, FLIES, _and insects of all kinds._ + +FATHER SUN. + + Wake, children, rub your eyes, + Up and dance and sing and play, + Not a cloud is in the skies; + This is going to be _my_ day. + See the tiny dew-drop glisten + In my glancing golden ray; + See the shadows dancing, listen + To the lark so blithe and gay. + Up, children, dance and play, + This is my own festal day. + +FLOWERS, BEETLES, ETC. + + Dance and sing + In a ring, + Naughty clouds are chased away; + Oh what fun, + Father Sun + Is going to shine the whole long day. + +MOTHER EARTH. That's right, children. This is the day to grow in; but +don't forget to come home to dinner; I've got such a nice dinner for +you. + + (_The children dance away delightedly, while CECIL watches + them, fascinated._) + +MOTHER EARTH. What's this absurd young man doing, sitting behind that +ugly wall? Why don't he sit under a tree if he must sit? + +FATHER SUN. Oh, he's a lunatic! Must be. + + (RANDOM BULLET _jumps over the sandbags into the dug-out, and + jibbers impotently at_ CECIL, _who glances up at him with a + look of disgust._) + +RANDOM BULLET. Ping! Ping. It's me he's afraid of. He daren't stir a +yard from this wall, or I'd tear his brains out. Ping! Ping! + +MOTHER EARTH. Who are you, Monster? + +RANDOM BULLET. I'm Random Bullet. I _am_ a monster, I am! Ping! + +MOTHER EARTH. Who sent you, anyway? + +RANDOM BULLET. Why, the idiots behind the other wall, over there! +Sometimes I jump at them, and sometimes I jump over here. I don't care +which way it is; but I like tearing their brains out, I do. I don't +care which lot it is. + +MOTHER EARTH. What madness! + +FATHER SUN (_indignantly_). On my day too! + +RANDOM BULLET. Mad! I should think they were! Never mind, they give me +some fun! Ping! So long, I'm off, going to jump at the other fellows, +back in a second if you like to wait. + + (RANDOM BULLET _jumps out of sight, and_ MOTHER EARTH _and_ + FATHER SUN _move disgustedly away._) + +CECIL (_getting up_). Mad! By God, we are mad! Curse the war! Curse +the fools who started it! Why did I ever come out here? What a way to +spend a morning in June! + + (_Curtain._) + + +ACT II. MIDDAY + + SCENE. _The same._ CECIL _as before, but sweltering in the + sun. Enter the_ SPIRIT OF THIRST. + +THIRST. Oh for a drink! Water, anything! I could drink a bath full. +What a place to spend a June day in! When one thinks of all the drinks +one might be having, it is really infuriating. Gad! The very thought +of 'em makes me feel quite poetic! Think of the great barrels of still +cider in cool Devonshire cellars! Think of the sour refreshing wine +we used to get in Italy! And the iced cocktails of Colombo! And Pimm's +No. 1 in the City. Anywhere but here it's a pleasure to be a Thirst; +but here! Good Lord, it will send me off my head. How would a bath +go now, old chap? By God, don't you wish you were back in your canoe, +drawn up among the rushes near Islip, and you just going to plunge +into the cool waters of the Char? Or think of that day you bathed in +the deep still pool at the foot of the Tamarin Falls, with the water +crashing down above you, into the deep shady chasm. Even a dip in the +sea at Mount Lavinia wouldn't be bad now,--or, better still, a dive +into Como from a rowboat; you remember that hot summer we went to +Como? I'll tell you another thing that wouldn't go down badly either. +Do you remember a great bowl of strawberries and cream with a huge +ice in it, that you had the day before you left school, after that hot +bike ride to Leamington? Not bad, was it? + +CECIL (_fiercely_). Shut up, you beast! Oh, curse this idiotic war! +Why are we such fools? + + (_Curtain._) + + +ACT III. LATE AFTERNOON + + SCENE. _As before._ CECIL _is discovered reading a letter from + home._ + +CECIL (_to himself_). Tom dead. Good Lord! What times we have had +together! Where are all the good fellows I used to know? Half of them +dead, and the rest condemned to die! No more yachting on the broads! +No more convivial evenings at the Troc.! No more long nights spinning +yarns in Tom's old rooms in the Temple! Curse this blasted war that +robs one of everything worth having, that dulls every sense of decency +and kills all feeling for beauty, destroys the joy of life, and +mutilates one's dearest friends. Curse it! + + (_A sound as of an express train is heard, followed by the + roar of an explosion, while a dense cloud of smoke and dust + rises immediately in view of the trench._) + +PORTENTOUS VOICE. Prepare to face eternity! + +CECIL (_clenching his fists_). Beast, loathsome beast! Don't think I +am afraid of you. + + (_The sounds are repeated as a second shell drops, rather + nearer. A Shadow appears round the dug-out, and hesitates._) + +CECIL (_to the Shadow_). Who is that? Is that the Shadow of Fear? + +A THIN, QUAVERING VOICE. Yes, shall I come in? + +CECIL (_furiously_). Out of my sight, vile, cringing wretch! Not even +your shadow will I tolerate in my presence! + + (_A third shell bursts nearer still._) + +PORTENTOUS VOICE (_thunderously_). Set not your affections on things +below. + + (CECIL _pauses in a listening attitude_). + +CECIL (_more quietly, and with a new look in his eyes_). I think I +have forgotten something,--something rather important. + + (_Enter the twin Spirits of_ HONOUR _and_ DUTY, _Spirits of a + very noble and courtly mien._) + +CECIL (_simply and humbly_). Gentlemen, to my sorrow and loss I had +forgotten you. You are doubly welcome. + +THE SPIRIT OF DUTY. Young sir, we thank you. After all, it is but +right that in this hour of danger and dismay we should be with you. + +THE SPIRIT OF HONOUR. I am so old a friend of you and yours, Cecil, +that you may surely trust me. I was your father's friend. Side by +side we stood in every crisis of his varied life. Together faced the +Dervish rush at Abu Klea, and afterwards in India took our part +in many a desperate unnamed frontier tussle. I helped him woo your +mother, spoke for him when he put up for Parliament, advised him when +he visited the city. In fact, I was his companion all through life, +and I stood beside his bed at death. + +THE SPIRIT OF DUTY. I too may claim to have been as much your father's +friend as was my brother. Indeed, where one is, the other is never far +away. We do agree most wonderfully, and since our birth, no quarrel +has ever disturbed the harmony of our ways. + +CECIL. Gentlemen, you have recalled me to myself. I had forgotten that +I was no more a child. I wanted to dance in the sun with the flowers, +and sing with the birds, to swim in the pool with yonder newt, and +lie down to dry in the long meadow grass among the poppies. Because I +might not do this and other things as fond and foolish, I was petulant +and peevish, like a spoilt child. I look to you, gentlemen, to help me +to be a man, and play a man's part in the world. + +HONOUR. We will remain at hand, call us when you need us, we shall not +fail you. + + (_The bombardment increases in intensity. Shrapnel bursts + overhead. Shells with increasing rapidity and accuracy + explode both short and over the trench. The hail of bullets is + continuous. An N.C.O. rushes by shouting "Stand to"; men rush + from the dug-outs and seize their rifles_; CECIL, _like the + others, grasps his rifle and sees that it is fully loaded._) + + (_Curtain._) + + +ACT IV. SUNSET + + SCENE. _The same, but the wall of sand-bags_ _bags is broken + in many places. The dead lie half-buried beneath them._ CECIL + _lies, badly wounded, against a gap in the wall, his rifle + by his side._ HONOUR _and_ DUTY _kneel beside him tenderly. + The last rays of the sun light up his painful smile._ THIRST + _stands gloomily over him, and the wild flowers are peeping + at him with sleepy eyes through the gap, while_ MOTHER EARTH + _calls to them to go to bed._ FATHER SUN _leans sadly over the + broken parapet._ + +CECIL (_slowly and with difficulty_). Honour, Duty, I thank you. You +did not fail me. + +HONOUR. You played the man, Cecil, as your father did before you. + +DUTY. Your example it was that steadied your comrades, and kept craven +fear at a distance. You saved the trench. + +HONOUR. This is the beauty of manhood, to die for a good cause. There +is no fairer thing in all God's world. + +CECIL. I thank you. Good-night, Sun; good-night, Mother Earth. Think +kindly of me. I don't think I was mad after all. + +SUN. Good-night, brave lad. (_To_ MOTHER EARTH) I can hardly bear to +look on so sad a sight. + +CECIL. Good-night, Ragged Robins; good-night, Poppies. You have +played your game, and I mine. Only they are different because we are +different. + +CHORUS OF FLOWERS. Good-night, dear Cecil. We are so very sorry that +you are hurt. + + (_Enter the_ MASTER, _flowers shyly following him._ HONOUR + _and_ DUTY _raise_ CECIL _gently to a standing position._) + +THE MASTER (_extending his arms with a loving smile_). "Well done, +good and faithful servant. Enter thou into the joy of thy Lord." + + (CECIL, _with a look of wonder and joy, is borne forward._) + + (_Curtain._) + + + + +XV + +MY HOME AND SCHOOL[3] + +A FRAGMENT OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY + +I + +MY HOME + +What is one to say of home? It is difficult to know. I find that +biographers are particular about the date of birth, the exact address +of the babe, the social position and ancestry of the parent. I suppose +that it is all that they can learn. But as an autobiographer I want +to do something better; to give a picture of the home where, as I +can now see, ideals, tastes, prejudices and habits were formed which +have persisted through all the internal revolutions that have since +upheaved my being. + +[Footnote 3: "A Student" left a great deal of manuscript, among which +this fragment of autobiography is not the least interesting.] + +I try to form the picture in my mind, and a crowd of detail rushes +in which completely destroys its simplicity and harmony. How hard it +is to judge, even at this distance, what are the salient features. +I must try, but I know that from the point of view of psychological +development I may easily miss out the very factors which were really +most important. + +I remember a big house, in a row of other big houses, in a side street +leading from the East Cliff at Brighton right up to the edge of the +bare rolling downs. It was exactly like almost every other house +in that part of Brighton--stucco fronted, with four stories and a +basement, three windows in front on each of the upper stories, and two +windows and a door on the ground floor and basement. At the back was +a small garden, with flower beds surrounding a square of gravel, and +a tricycle house in one corner. There was a back door in this garden, +which gave on to a street of cottages. This back door was a point of +strategic importance. + +But I need not describe the house in detail. It was exactly like +thousands of other houses built in the beginning of the nineteenth +century. High, respectable, ugly and rather inconvenient, with many +stairs, two or three big rooms, a lot of small ones and no bathroom. +It was essentially a family house, intended for people of moderate +means and large families. Nowadays they build houses which are +prettier, and have bathrooms; but they are not meant for large +families. + +We were a large family, and a fairly noisy one. Moreover, we were +singularly self-sufficing. We hadn't many friends, we didn't entertain +much, we had dinner in the middle of the day, and supper in the +evening. + +There was my father who was a recluse, my mother who was essentially +our mother, the two girls and four boys. I was an afterthought, being +seven years younger than my next brother, who for seven years had +been called B. (for baby), and couldn't escape from it even after my +appearance. + +In addition to these, B. and I both had inseparable friends, who lived +within a stone's throw. Ronnie was my _alter ego_ till I was fourteen: +so much so that I had no other friend. Even now, though our ways +have kept us apart, and our interests and opinions are fundamentally +different, we can sit in each other's rooms with perfect content. We +know too much of each other for it to be possible to pretend to be +what we are not. We sit and are ourselves, naked and unashamed so to +speak, and it is very restful. + +Pictures float before my mind. Let me select a few. I see a rather +fat, stolid little boy in a big airy nursery at the top of the house, +sitting in the middle of the floor playing with bricks. Outside it is +gusty and wet, and the small boy hopes that he will be allowed to stay +in all the afternoon, and play with bricks. But that is not to be. A +small thin man, with gentle grey eyes, short curly beard, an old black +greatcoat and a black square felt hat, comes in. The child must have +some air. The child is resentful, but resigned, is wrapped up well, +put in his pram and wheeled up and down the Madeira Road. + +"Pa" didn't appear very much except on some such errand; but "Ma" was +in and out all the time. "Ma" was everything, the only woman who has +ever had my whole love, my whole trust and has made my heart ache with +the desire to show my love. + +A later picture. The boy is bigger, and not so fat. He no longer has +a nurse. He has vacated the nursery, which is now tenanted by his big +sisters. He has a little room all his own: a very small room, looking +west. The south-west gales beat upon the window in the winter, and not +so far away is the roar of the sea. It is good to curl up in a nice +warm little bed, and listen to the howling of the wind and the waves. + +In the morning come lessons from his eldest sister G. The schoolroom +has rings and a trapeze, a bookshelf full of boys' books, and +cupboards full of stone bricks, cannon and soldiers. The boy's mind +is set on bricks and soldiers. Lessons and walks with "Ma" and his +sisters or Ronnie and his nurse down the town are a nuisance. They +interfere with the building of cathedrals and the settling of the +destinies of nations by the arbitrament of war. + +It was a stolid, placid boy, intensely wrapt up in his cathedrals and +his generals, intensely devoted to "Ma," and regarding all else as +rather a nuisance. Ronnie he liked. He liked going to tea with him, +and going walks with him and his nurse; but they didn't have much +in common except cricket. Ronnie had big soldiers which could not be +knocked down by cannon balls, and which couldn't make history because +they were few in number, and nearly all English. Mine were of every +European power, and many Asiatic ones. They were diminutive and +numerous, could take shelter in a forest of pine cones and were +admirably suited to be mown down at the cannon's mouth. The King of +England was a person with a fine figure. He had one leg and one arm, +and the plume of his dragoon's helmet was shorn off; but his slight, +erect figure still looked noble on a stately white palfrey. The French +armies were usually commanded by Marshal Petit, a gay fellow with +his full complement of limbs, who sat a horse well. He had a younger +brother almost equally distinguished. I have no recollection of a King +of France. He must have been a poor fellow. The Sultan of Turkey, +the Khedive, and Li Hung Chang still live in my memory as persons of +distinction; but I have no personal recollection of the Tsar, or the +Emperors of Germany or Austria, or of the King of Italy, though I know +they existed. + +Into this placid existence turmoil would enter three times a year. The +elder brothers, Hugh, Tommy and B., would come home for the holidays +from Sandhurst and Rugby, and R. would appear, and become almost one +of the family. Then would occur troublous times, with a few advantages +and many disadvantages. + +"Tommy" was a curiously solitary youth as I remember him, who played +the 'cello with great perseverance and considerable success. At +soldiers he was something of a genius, though his games were of an +intricacy which failed to commend itself to me altogether. In his +great soldier days he not only made history, but wrote it--a height to +which I never attained. + +In the holidays, cricket in the back garden became a great feature, +and Tommy was a demon bowler. I fancy, too, that the very elaborate +but highly satisfactory form of the game must have originated with +him. In the back garden we not merely played cricket, but made +history--cricket history. Two county sides were written out, and +we batted alternately for the various cricketers, doing our best +to imitate their styles. We bowled also in a rough imitation of the +styles of the county bowlers whom we represented. This arrangement +secured us against personal rivalry, kept up a tremendous interest in +first-class cricket and enabled matches to continue, if necessary, +for weeks at a time. It encouraged, too, a fair, impersonal and +unprejudiced view of outside events. + +In cricket, war and music we undoubtedly benefited by the holidays, +especially in the summer, when we used to go to the country, often +occupying a school-house with gym, cricket nets and a fair-sized +garden. Ecclesiastical architecture suffered, however.... + +Hugh was a great and glorious person, a towering beneficent despot +when he did appear.... As for me I adored him with whole-hearted +hero-worship. He was the "protector of the poor," who kept the rest of +us in order. He was a magnificent person who revolutionized the art +of war by the introduction of explosives. He was a tremendous walker, +and first taught me to love great tramps over the downs, to sniff +appreciatively the glorious air and to love their bare, storm-swept +outlines. Hugh stood for all that is wholesome, strenuous, out of +doors in my life. Without him I should have been a mere sedentary. +Among other things he was an enthusiastic boxer and gymnast. For these +pursuits I sturdily feigned enthusiasm and suppressed timidity. + +A few more pictures. First, Sunday morning. Gertrude goes off to +Sunday School. She likes teaching and bossing. Hilda and Hugh, who +are greater pals than brother and sister can often be, go off to St. +James', where there will be good music and an interesting sermon. +Tommy goes to St. Mark's, a good Protestant place, or to the beach, +where curious and recondite doctrines are weekly disputed. B. goes to +St. George's, protesting. There is plenty of room for his hat, there +is a congenially aggressive spirit against Rome and it slightly +irritates Ma. Pa is not up yet. Ma and I go to All Souls', because it +is the nearest poor church, and Ma finds it easier to worship where +there are no pew rents, and the seats are uncushioned, and there are +few rich people. I am ever loyal to Ma. + +I often wonder whether the reason why my family are all Churchgoers +now is not that at that time we could choose our church. + +The next picture is Sunday night. "Pa" and I, and perhaps some of +the other boys, set out for St. Paul's, at the other end of the town. +Then, after the service, follows an immense walk all through the slums +of the town. We talk of Australia, where Pa once had a sheep run; of +theology, of the past and the future. This weekly walk is something of +a privilege, and rather solemn. It makes me feel older. + +It is spring. I am at Rugby, and in the "San" with ophthalmia. The +South African war is raging. Hugh is there. I am told that Hugh is +dead. He has been shot in a glorious but futile charge at Paardeberg. +I can't realize it. I am an object of interest, of envy almost, to the +whole school. The flag is half-mast because my brother is dead. Every +one is kind, touched. I put on an air as of a martyr. + +I get a heartbroken letter from my mother. Will I come home? Or hadn't +I better go to Uncle Jack's? If I go home we shall make each other +worse. It is better for me than for Maurice, who is with the fleet in +the Mediterranean with no one to comfort him. + +Ma has had a great shock. She feels it desperately. She thinks all +the others feel it as much. Except Hilda, we don't. There is a huge +piece taken out of Ma's life and Hilda's life, because they were so +unselfishly devoted to Hugh. Pa, also, has lost much, but he is a +philosopher. + +I go to Uncle Jack's and shoot rabbits. The holidays come and go. +Tommy is at Oxford; I am at Rugby. Pa is immersed in theological +speculation about the next world; B. is in the Mediterranean. Ma sends +Gertrude and Hilda away for a long change. They go, and come back. +Something about Ma frightens them. She and Pa come near Rugby and stay +with Uncle Jack. The holidays come. I learn that for the first time +for about twenty years Ma is to go away without Pa. I am to meet her +at Hereford, and we are to go to Wales. Ma forgets things. She is more +loving than ever, but her memory is going. We go to communion together +in the little village church. + +A few weeks later. We are back in Brighton. An Australian uncle and +family are staying with us. Ma is ill in bed. I get up at 6 A.M., +tramp over the downs and in a place I wot of, some five miles away, +I gather heather for Ma. I run. I get back by 8.30. I find my uncle +and cousins getting into a cab. Some one says, "How lovely! Are these +for me?" I grip them in despair. They are for Ma. "Quite right," says +someone. A day or two later my heather was placed, still blooming, on +Ma's grave. + +I was sixteen then. Six years later I return home from abroad. Within +a few weeks of my return I am sitting in Pa's room in agony, listening +to him fight for breath. The fight at last weakens. I hear him +whisper, "Help! help!" I set my teeth. The others come in. There +is silence. All is over. I am given my father's ring. It is my most +treasured possession. + +Henceforth all I have left of home is Hilda, for she alone is +unmarried. Ever since my mother's death she has been my confidante. +As far as was possible she has taken Ma's place in my life, and I have +taken Hugh's place in hers. We are substitutes. For that reason as +we get older we get to know each other better, and to know better how +much we can give to each other. There is more criticism between us +than there would have been between Ma and me, and Hilda and Hugh. But +it has its advantages. We live apart, but we correspond weekly, and +holiday together. It is all that is left of home, and it is infinitely +precious. + +Now that I have written these pages I can see as I have never seen +before how much the child was father of the man. Since those home days +I have had more variety of experience perhaps than falls to the lot +of most men, and I would almost say more varied and more epoch-making +friendships. Yet in these pages that I have written I seem to see all +the essential and salient features of my character already mirrored +and formed. + +I am still by nature lethargic and placid. I could still occupy myself +contentedly With bricks and soldiers, art and history, and trouble +no one. But there is still that other element, instilled by Hugh--a +love of the open air, of struggle with the elements, in lonely desert +places. + +I have never lost the craving for true religion, which induced my +mother to go to a poor church to worship, and to visit the drunken +and helpless in their slums. I have never lost the desire for her +singleness of mind, and simple loyalty to Christ and His Church. At +the same time I have never lost my father's inquiring spirit, broad +view, love of doctrine tempered by reason and founded on history and +tested by human experience. When these two beloved ones passed from +this world I learnt the meaning of the text, "Where your treasure is, +there will your heart be also." My heart has never been wholly in this +world. + +So, too, I have always been a man of few friends. Ronnie has had many +successors; but seldom more than one at a time. I have never cared +much for society. My father and mother neither of them attached much +importance to conventions, or to the fictitious values which society +puts on clothes or money or position. I have always looked rather +for some one to admire, some one whose ideals and personality were +congenial, whatever their position or occupation. I have also, on the +whole, always preferred comfort to show, simple to elaborate living. +This I trace to the simple comfort and naturalness of my old home. + + +II + +SCHOOL + +I went to a day school kept by Ronnie's father when I was nine. +At least, it was a day school for me; but nearly all the boys +were boarders. I worked fairly hard, and got prizes. I was fairly +good at cricket, and not much good at football. I had only one +friend--Ronnie--and about two enemies, both of whom were day boys, and +whom I should have liked to have fought if I had dared. My memories +of the school are few. I best remember leaving home, and going +back, and also playing cricket. Ronnie's father lives as a just and +straightforward gentleman, who never caned a boy except for what was +mean or dirty, and whom we all loved and respected. But then I have +known and loved him and his wife all my life. If our house was a +second home to Ronnie, theirs has always been a second home to me. + +There was one master whom I liked, and who perhaps did something to +develop my character. He was fond of poetry and history, and from him +I learnt--an easy lesson for me--to love history; but what is more, he +first gave me a glimmering idea, which was to develop long after, that +the classics are literature, and not torture. + +I left there to go to Rugby. + +Never did a boy enter Rugby with better chances. The memory of +my three brothers still lived in the house. They had all achieved +distinction in games, and been leading prefects (or sixths as they +are called at Rugby) in the house. Many masters remembered them for +good, particularly Jacky, the housemaster, who had loved them all, +especially Hugh. + +In addition to this, one of the leading fellows in the house, who was +afterwards to be captain of the school fifteen and cricket eleven, +lieutenant in the corps, and one of the racquet pair, had been at my +private school. I shared a study with another fellow who had been at +my private school. Two boys accompanied me from there, one of whom was +my next best friend to Ronnie. His parents were in India, and he had +spent some of his holidays with Ronnie and me. + +But though I loved Rugby and was happy there, I can't say I was a +success. I made few friends, who have since, with one exception, +drifted out of my life. I was too timid to enjoy Rugger. I never +achieved distinction at cricket. I got into the sixth my last term, +but hadn't the force of character to enjoy the prefectural powers +which that fact conferred upon me. The fact is that I left when I was +16, and it is between 16 and 18 that the full enjoyment of school life +comes and boys reap the harvest they have sown. Had I stayed another +year I should have belonged to the leading generation, strengthened +my friendships and developed what was latent in my character. As it +was, I left at an unfortunate age. I was pushed into the sixth a year +before my contemporaries. My friendships were only half formed, and +I had only just begun to feel strength of body and mind developing in +me. + +As a junior I was too conscientious, and not light-hearted enough. +I hardly had any adventures at Rugby, because I had an incurable +instinct for keeping rules. I worked hard at mathematics and French, +and my report generally read, "Good ability. Might exert himself +more." At classics and chemistry I did as little work as possible, +and any report generally read, "Hard-working but not bright." + +On the whole I think I was pretty happy at Rugby; but I never look +back to my school days as the happiest part of my life. I have had +many happier times since. But still, my house was a good one. Jacky, +the housemaster, was wonderfully kind and wise. He hardly ever +interfered with the affairs of the house, but left it all--in +appearance--to the "Sixths." Actually, nothing escaped him. The tone +of the house was on the whole extraordinarily clean and wholesome, +and the fellows who had dirty minds were a small minority, and easily +avoided. At all events, very little of that sort of thing reached me. + +At sixteen and a half I went to the Royal Military Academy at +Woolwich, commonly known as "the Shop." There I spent the two +most miserable years of my life, and made the second of my great +friendships. In these days the Shop was still a pretty rough place, +and at the moment it was unusually full. I think there were over 300 +fellows there altogether, and there were about 70 in my term. My first +experience was unfortunate. I was interviewing the Adjutant, a keen +sportsman and a bit of a tartar. He eyed me unfavourably, asked what +games I could play, and when I replied that I had no great proficiency +in any he commented, "Humph, a good-for-nothing!" and dismissed me. + +I am by nature slow, stolid and clumsy. I was bad at being "smart"; +I was slow and clumsy at drill; map making and geometrical drawing +were physical impossibilities to me; I was incredibly slow and stupid +at machinery, mechanism and electricity. The only subject which +interested me was military history. In my first term I dropped from +about forty-fourth to about seventieth in my class, and I kept near +the bottom until my fourth term, when I failed in my electricity +exam., and had to stay one term more. In the same term I received a +prize for the best essay on the lessons of the South African War. + +Oh, the misery of those terms at Woolwich! I hated the work, the +drill, the gym and even the riding school. I hated the officers, and +above all I hated the spirit of the place. As far as I remember, +the one eternal topic of conversation and subject of "wit" was the +sexual relation. Of course the boys had never been taught sensibly +anything about it. Consequently the place was continually circulated +with filthy books, pictures, stories, etc. When I went there I was +extraordinarily innocent, and devoid of curiosity. I had been recently +the more disposed to purity through the death of my mother. At +Woolwich I remained extraordinarily innocent and uncurious, letting +the poisonous stream flow continually by me, shrinking from its +stench, and finding more and more relief in my own company. I must +have been a very unpleasant person at that time. + +One friend I had. He was a small, compact, keen, and capable little +Rugbian named F----. He was like me in that he had recently lost his +parents, and was interested in religion and philosophy in a boyish +way. Unlike me he rather enjoyed Woolwich. He had a lot of friends, +was keen on riding and on a good deal of the work, and generally +speaking plunged into life, taking the rough with the smooth, and +both in good part. Although we have drifted far apart in ideals and +sympathies, and though misunderstanding has come in and destroyed our +friendship, I shall never cease to be grateful for all that F---- +did for me in those days. He routed me out when I was in the blues, +laughed at me, cheered me up and made me look at life with new eyes. +Moreover he did this, as I know, in defiance of the set with whom he +was friendly, who despised me for a milksop, and were at no pains to +conceal the fact. But for F----, my life at the Shop would have been +intolerable. + +Besides him, I had a few associates, boys with whom I naturally +associated for the simple reason that they, too, were left out of the +main current of the life of the place. But they were not particularly +congenial. One or two were hard workers. One was a great slacker, and +more timid, physically and morally, than even I. He was a boy with a +fatal facility for doing useless things moderately well, especially in +the musical line. He was even more frightened of gym and horses than +I was, and unlike me was not ashamed to show it. If the Shop was +purgatory to me, it must have been hell to him. + +My happiest times were week-ends spent at home. I used to arrive on +Saturday evening and leave on Sunday evening. About now I began to +get to know my father much better, and to develop my theological bent +under his advice. In my disillusionment as to my capacity for military +life I began to wish I had chosen the clerical profession. I think my +father had the shrewdness to see that failure in one profession was +not necessarily the sign of a "call" in another direction. Anyway, he +did not discourage me; but spoke of five years in the Army as the best +training for a parson. + +I remember avowing my intention of becoming a parson to one of my more +friendly acquaintances at the Shop, and he replied that I wouldn't set +the Thames on fire, because I had such a monotonous voice. + +In spite of seeking relief from my uncongenial surroundings in +religion and theology, I did not join myself to any one else. There +was a so-called "Pi Squad," or Bible class, held weekly, but I only +went once, and didn't like it. I was always peculiarly sensitive about +priggishness in those who professed themselves to be religious openly, +and generally thought I detected priggishness in any "Bible circle" +or similar institution that I came across. I think my theology +mainly consisted in speculations about the future state--I remember +I emphatically declined to believe in hell--and my religion consisted +mainly in fairly regular attendance at Matins and Communion. + +Another effect of the intensity with which I hated my surroundings was +that I read a lot of good novels--George Eliot, the Brontes, Scott, +Dickens, Jane Austen, Thackeray, Besant, etc. A book which I read +over and over again was Arthur Benson's _Hill of Trouble, and other +Stories_. Those legends, with their imaginative setting, charm of +language and beautiful religious ideas were more restful to my unquiet +spirit than anything else I read. + +The actual conditions of life at the Shop were pretty barbaric. The +aim was to make it as much like barracks as possible. Each term was +housed in a different side of the square of buildings which form the +Academy, and the fourth term were spread among the houses of the other +terms as corporals. My first term I shared a room with three other +fellows. I think it was the ugliest room I have ever lived in, without +exception. It had high whitewashed brick walls. In each corner was +a bed which folded up against the wall in the day time, and was +concealed by a square of print curtains. There were a deal table, four +windsor chairs, a shelf with four basins, and a cupboard with four +lockers. All the woodwork was painted khaki. The contrast with the +little study at Rugby, with its diamond-paned window, its matchboard +panelling surmounted by a paper of one's own choosing, its ledge +for photos and ornaments ("bim ledge" so called), its eggshell blue +cupboards, baize curtains and window box, was striking. + +It used to be the custom to go to and from the bathroom attired in a +sponge, in connexion with which an amusing incident once happened. + +A cadet in his second year was on the bathroom landing, when he +perceived that the mother and sisters of another cadet were coming +upstairs. From sounds in the bathroom he realized that they would +meet a naked corporal just as they reached the landing. The door of +the bathroom opened outwards, and with admirable presence of mind +he rushed back, and putting his back against the door and his feet +against the wall, imprisoned the corporal. The corporal, in the +approved Shop version of Billingsgate, began to blaspheme at the top +of his voice, so when the ladies reached the top of the stairs they +saw a vision of a cadet with his feet to the wall and his back to a +door singing at the top of his voice to drown a Commotion within! + +On another occasion in my second year, when I was sharing a room +with one other fellow, I had a sister to tea. On arriving in my room +I found that my stablemate had been playing hockey, and was at the +moment in the bathroom, having thoughtlessly left all his clothes in +the room--mostly on the floor. + +On the last day of my first term the corporals and officers were all +absent at a farewell dinner to the former, and we received information +that the third term were going to raid our house, with a view to +"toshing" us in a cold bath. We therefore prepared for action. Every +receptacle which would hold water was taken to the upper landing, +full. Then all the chairs in the house were roped together, and +placed on the stairs as an obstacle. The defenders then took up their +position at the windows and at the top of the stairs. In due course +the enemy's forces arrived, and stormed the stairs, under a heavy fire +of water. The obstacle was at length destroyed, and a solid phalanx +of wet bodies swarmed up the stairs. We formed a similar phalanx +and charged to meet them. I happened to be first, and much to my +discomfiture the enemy's phalanx parted in the middle, and I was +rapidly passed down the stairs--a prisoner! Fortunately at the bottom +I found a relieving party from the next house, making a diversion on +the enemy's rear. With great valour we dragged down a foe, and toshed +him in the bath that had been made ready for us. "The tosher toshed!" + +The next day we surveyed the damage. All the chairs and banisters were +broken, the whitewash was rubbed off the bricks by wet shoulders +and nearly all the basins were broken. That day was the day of Lord +Roberts's half-yearly inspection! + +There was not such another battle until my third term, when we +were the aggressors. This time the damage was even greater, for the +defenders let down tables across the stairs as an obstacle, and we +battered our way through with scaffolding poles. There were some +casualties that day, owing to an indiscriminate use of mop handles. + +On the day of Lord Roberts's inspection we had to change from parade +dress to gym dress, and it was during the change that Lord Roberts +inspected our quarters. He went into one room and found a fellow just +half-way through his change--with nothing at all on! The room was +called to attention, and with great presence of mind the boy dashed +into the bed curtains and stood to attention there, while Lord Roberts +had an animated conversation with him! + +There were jolly moments in the life at the Shop. On Saturdays, after +dinner, the unfortunates who had not got away for the week-end used to +have "stodges" after dinner. Having put away a substantial dinner, we +changed into flannels, and used to crowd into some one's room, and eat +muffins and smoke cigars. I remember one night there were eighteen of +us in one small room. + +In order to go away for a week-end one had to obtain (1) an +invitation, (2) permission from parent or guardian to accept the +invitation. One week my brother, who was working at the Admiralty, +offered his flat to myself and F----, as he was going to Brighton +himself. Fleming wrote to his guardian--a Scotsman--for permission +to stay with Captain Hankey. The guardian wrote back for more +information. He saw by the Army List that Captain Hankey existed, but +who were the Hankeys? etc., etc. F---- wrote back a furious letter, +saying that he expected to have his friends accepted without question, +and received the permission. We went. The awkward thing was that +Captain Hankey was not there, and we shuddered to think of the rage of +F----'s guardian if he should find out. Worse still, the guardian was +supposed to be staying at the Oriental Club in Hanover Square, and my +brother's flat was in Oxford Street! However, we didn't meet. + +F---- and I neither of us knew London, and had the time of our lives. +We dined at Frascati's--a palace of splendour in our eyes--and went to +His Majesty's to see Beerbohm Tree in Ulysses. When it came to Hades, +we held each other's hands! On Sunday we went to St. Peter's, Vere +Street, but were so furious at being kept waiting for pew holders +long after service had commenced, that we went on to the Audley Street +Chapel, a most queer little place. It was full of monuments to the +dependents of peers, in which the peers figured very largely and +the dependents fared humbly--the epitome of flunkeydom. Among these +tablets was one inscribed-- + + "To John Wilkes, + Friend of Liberty." + +Truly refreshing! + +We finished the day at some old friends of mine, and voted the +week-end a huge success. + +When I went to Woolwich I was just on the verge of getting keen +on games and beginning to feel self-confident, and to enjoy the +fellowship of my comrades. Woolwich nipped this in the bud. I left +with no self-confidence, having renounced games, and with a sense +of solitariness among my comrades. I was a misanthrope, and the +unhappiest sort of egotist--the kind that dislikes himself. To say +the truth, too, I was then, and always have been, a bit of a funk, +physically, which didn't make me happier. On the other hand, I was an +omnivorous reader of everything which did not concern my profession, +and a dabbler in military history. + +I have sometimes thought that I was unconsciously a bit of a hero at +Woolwich, standing out for purity and religion in an atmosphere of +filth and blasphemy. I have come to the conclusion, however, that +there was nothing in this. As to the general atmosphere, there is +no doubt that it was singularly pernicious; even the officers and +instructors contributed their quota of filthy jokes, and there was no +religious instruction or influence at all except the parade service at +the garrison church on Sunday, if one happened not to be on leave. But +as to my heroism I am reluctantly compelled to be sceptical. I went +as far as I felt my inclination, and stopped after a time because +instinct was too strong the other way. + +As I have said before, I have always had an insurmountable instinct +for keeping rules. At school I could never bring myself to transgress, +although I knew that transgression was the road to adventure. So +at the Shop, however much I may have wished to be in the swim, my +instinct for the moral and religious code of home was too strong for +me. It required no self-control to prevent myself from slipping into +blasphemy and filth. On the contrary, in order to do so I should have +had to violate my strongest instincts, and exercised a will to evil +much stronger than any will power that I possessed at that time. If, +when I left Woolwich, I was comparatively pure, it was because nature +did not allow me to be anything else. + +To say the truth, I have never felt the sway of passions to anything +like the same extent as most men seem to. I have never cared for the +society of women for its sexual attraction. Consequently all my women +friends have been just the same to me as my men friends--friends whom +I could talk to about the things that interested me. + +I don't boast of this, I only state the fact. I am not proud of it +because I know that some passion is necessary to make heroes and even +saints. + + + + +SOME NOTES ON THE FRAGMENT OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY BY "HILDA" + + +I have before me as I write a pencil sketch, limned with considerable +care, of a rather disagreeable looking young man, and beneath it is +written-- + + "D.W.A.H., by Himself." + +It is a profile. The eye has almost disappeared under the brow, the +mouth is tightly closed to a degree that is quite unpleasant and there +is a deliberate exaggeration of a slight defect he actually had--a +tendency for the lower jaw to protrude a little. This little defect +hardly any of his friends seem to have noticed, for most of them +execrate it as a libel in the otherwise admittedly beautiful +photograph at the beginning of this volume. The expression in the +sketch is above all--dubious. + +So did Donald see himself. + +For the rest of us no doubt the lessons Mr. Haselden has for us in his +caricatures, "ourselves as we see ourselves" and "as others see us," +are necessary. But not for Donald. The drawing is pasted into an album +which contains mainly Oxford College groups, and there is a certain +unpleasant resemblance between it and his full face presentment in one +of the groups--in which he has "the group expression" rather badly. +Assuming it to have been drawn at Oxford, or not very long after he +left, I think it must belong very nearly to a time when he was going +off abroad on one of his long trips, and I had the sympathy of a +dear old lady friend of ours on having to part with him. I remember +replying, "Yes, it always seems as if peace and happiness, truth and +justice, religion and piety went with him when he goes!" She laughed +a good deal, and then said, seriously, repeating over to herself the +stately mounting sixteenth century phrases, "But it's quite true, you +know!" I hardly think, though, that I should have said it of the young +man in the sketch! + +I am now going to make a comment or two on my brother's word-pictures +as I should if he were by my side. But first I should like his readers +to know and realize that both were written before the period of what +I may call Donald's "Renaissance," a period that can be roughly marked +by the publication of his first book, _The Lord of all Good Life_. + +Up to then he had been struggling in vain for self-expression. How he +had worked the amount of MSS. he has left alone proves--for we have it +on a friend's testimony that "he tore up much of what he wrote"; and +he also had experienced and suffered, violating his natural "timidity" +and his in some ways, precarious health, for he had never got over +certain weaknesses engendered by his illness in Mauritius--in his +struggle to get a true basis for a solution of the meaning of life +and of religion. What cost him most was the knowledge that he +was frequently doubted and misunderstood by many of those whose +approbation would have been very dear to him. This is proved by his +constantly expressed gratitude to the one or two who never doubted him +for one moment. + +With the writing of this book, as we know, all his difficulties began +to clear away, and at the same time he began to reap the harvest of +love and admiration that he had sown in his toils to produce it. +And the result was he opened out like a flower to the sun! No one +can doubt this for a moment who has read his book of a year later, +_The Student in Arms_, and rejoiced in the radiant happiness of its +inspiration. + +He had more than once said to me during the past two years, "You know +it makes a _tremendous_ difference to me when people really _like_ +me." No longer was it a case of "one friend at a time." The period for +that was over and done with. He had come into his own. He was ready +for a universal brotherhood, and no hand would ever be held out to him +in vain. + +It is impossible to believe that he does not now know of and +appreciate all the beautiful tributes that have come to him since +his "passing"--from the perfect wreath of immortelles weaved by Mr. +Strachey to the sweet pansy of thought dropped by a little fellow +V.A.D. of mine who said beautifully and courageously--though knowing +him solely through his book--"We feel since he gave us his thought +that he belongs a tiny bit to us, too," thus voicing the feeling of +many. + +I believe the paper entitled "My Home" to have been written at Oxford, +and "School" not so very long after. In any case, I have definite +proof of their both belonging to Donald's pre-"Renaissance" period, +for the friendship with F----, that began at "the Shop" and went under +a cloud for a time, was renewed with fresh vigour in 1914, and has +burned brightly ever since. Only last July was I sent by him a letter +of F----'s from the trenches, with the injunction, "Please put this +among my treasures," and there is an allusion to a story told in this +letter in the article entitled "Romance" of the present volume. + +To return to "My Home," I question whether the love and devotion of +"Hilda" and "Ma" for Hugh was so entirely unselfish. For my mother I +fully believe, as for "Hilda," Hugh was the epitome of all that was +fine, splendid and joyous in life. He was the glorious knight, the +"preux chevalier" "sans peur et sans reproche," who rode forth at dawn +with clean sword and shining armour, and all the world before him, yet +keeping his heart for ever in his home. He was the child of her youth +as Donald was the child of her maturity. Deep down in her wonderfully +varied nature there were certain bottomless springs of courage, daring +and enterprise which she herself had little chance of expressing and +of which Hugh alone was the personification. + +As long as I can remember Hugh had been my ideal and made all the +interest and joy of life for me. Whether he were at home or abroad I +never had a thought I did not share with him. When he died, the best +part of me died too, or was paralysed rather, and Heaven knows what +sort of a "substitute" I should have been for "Ma" to Donald, had not +the baby Hugh come, just in time, with healing in his wings to restore +life to the best part of me! + +I am glad to think that Donald's "Autobiography" was written before +1914, for I know that even before that I was becoming more to him than +a "substitute." I too have my memories and pictures! + +It is May, 1915. I am in the country-house--cleaning is going on at +home. + +I get a letter to say that the Rifle Brigade may leave for France +at any time, and that Donald _may_ get some "leave" on Saturday or +Sunday. + +I make a dash for town. + +There I find a telegram of reckless and unconscionable length, running +into two pages. He cannot come up--they may leave at any moment. It +seems hardly worth while my bothering to come to Aldershot on the +chance--he may be unable to leave barracks. + +I write a return telegram--also of reckless and unconscionable length, +and reply paid--it is a relief to do so--asking for a place of meeting +at Aldershot to be suggested. + +I get no answer at all, and on Sunday morning, in despair, I go +over to see my aunt and cousin. My aunt is my mother's sister and a +sportswoman. She counsels, "Go at all costs." Dorothy will come with +me: Dorothy is Donald's best woman pal--she reminds him of his mother. +She is all that is wholesome and comportable. + +The element of enjoyment comes in, and I go home and pack a nice +lunch. + +We arrive at Aldershot. + +There is no one on the platform to meet us, and we push our way +through the turnstile. + +There is Donald, on the outskirts of the waiting crowd--a tall, +soldierly figure in the uniform of a private--for he has resigned his +sergeant's stripes by now. + +His face is very boyish--not the face of the photograph at the +beginning of this book: that was taken after he had been to France, +and had been wounded, and had written "A Passing in June," and "The +Honour of the Brigade"--but a much younger face, really boyish. + +He glances quickly and anxiously at every face that passes, and each +time he is a little more disappointed--but he tries not to show it. + +I am not tall and cannot catch his eye. It is like being at a play, +watching him! All at once he sees me! Involuntarily a sudden quick +spasm of joy passes across his face, absolutely transfiguring it. + +He smooths it away quickly, for he is a Briton and does not like to +show his feelings--but he has given himself away! + +Dorothy and I shall never forget that look. And it was for _me_--at +first he does not see Dorothy. When he does it is an added pleasure. + +With _two_ ladies to escort he assumes a lordly air. + +He had thought of everything. We would like some tea? Yes, all the big +places are shut as it is Sunday, but he has marked down a little place +on his way to the station. + +It is a lovely day, and we are very happy! + +The girl who waits upon us at the little tea place likes us, and so do +the other Tommies and their friends who are having tea there. + +We sit at little tables, but at very close quarters with each other, +and we smile at them and they at us. + +I have brought Donald some letters, which pleases him, and Dorothy has +brought him some splendid socks, knitted by herself. + +After tea we walk across an arid plain to a little wood, and sit down +under the trees. + +Donald changes to the new socks--those he had on were wringing wet! + +He picks us little bunches of violets, hyacinths and wild strawberry +flowers--we have them still. + +We are very happy the whole of the day, and have my sandwiches and +cake and fruit for supper, there under the trees. And here in thought +let me leave "The Student in Arms," who was to me part son, best pal, +brother, comrade, and counsellor on all subjects--and more than a +little bit of grandpapa! + +He could be so many different things because, as another friend and +cousin said, "he seemed to know everything about everybody." + +I like to think of those two fine spirits--Hugh and Donald--each with +a hand to the tiny baby nephew, and a word of greeting for me when I +go over the top. + + +THE END + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Student in Arms, by Donald Hankey + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A STUDENT IN ARMS *** + +***** This file should be named 14823.txt or 14823.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/8/2/14823/ + +Produced by Rick Niles, William Flis, and the PG Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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