Methodist Church (Great Britain) -- Fiction; World War, 1914-1918 -- Fiction
I could not help feeling the tragedy of it. These lads who had been
living from hour to hour, and from minute to minute, amidst the roar of
great guns, the shriek of shells, the pep-pep-pep of machine-guns, never
knowing when death would come, were suddenly and without preparation
thrown upon the bosom of our great modern Babylon; and on their return
they were met by these creatures.
'It is ghastly, it is hellish!' said Edgecumbe, as we returned across
Waterloo Bridge.
'What can be done?' I asked helplessly.
'These fellows should be safeguarded,' he replied. 'Oh, I know the
difficulties, but those creatures should be dealt with with a strong
hand; they should not be allowed in such places. The boys coming home
from danger and death should be protected from such temptations. It is
not a thing to talk about, not a thing to discuss in public; but think of
the inwardness of it, think of the ghastly diseases, the loss of manhood,
the corruption of soul, that follows in the train of what we have
seen,--and it is going on all over London.'
'You can't put down vice by Act of Parliament,' I replied.
'No, but a great deal more can be done than is done,' was his answer.
'People don't talk about these things in their drawing-rooms, or in their
social circles, but they exist,--my God, they exist! And this is
supposed to be a holy war! Still, thank God for the good that is being
done, for the organizations which exist for men's comfort and salvation.'
And then he did not speak another word until we reached the hotel.
The next day was Saturday, and directly after lunch we started to go
together to a matinee, for Edgecumbe had stated his determination to
visit the places of amusement and see how London enjoyed itself.
We begun by going to one of the largest and most popular music-halls in
the City, where a revue which was much commented on was produced for the
delectation of all who cared to see it.
I was informed that this particular place was much patronized by
soldiers, and that the entertainment was one of the most popular in
London. The prices of the seats varied from half a guinea, plus the War
tax, to a shilling, and as we entered we found a vast concourse of
people, among whom were many men in khaki. I discovered too that the
management had been generous, for there were numbers of wounded soldiers,
many of them in the stalls, and who had been given free admission.
'After all, it is fine,' I said, as we waited for the curtain to rise,
'that these lads should have a place of brightness and amusement to go
to.'
'Yes,' replied Edgecumbe, 'in a way it is splendid.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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