But the flower of their souls he shall take not away to shame us,
Nor the lips lack song for ever that now lack breath.
For with us shall the music and perfume that die not dwell,
Though the dead to our dead bid welcome, and we farewell.
CHAPTER VI
THOSE WHO MADE THE WHEELS GO ROUND
In such a community, one of the most difficult offices to fill successfully was that of chaplain; for it is not always possible to combine a vocation for the sick with a sympathetic understanding of young men and women. The chaplain’s work was solitary and lacked the stimulus of companionship, which was so helpful to the doctors; and it cannot be denied that a large proportion of the patients were more interested in the quality of the surgeons than of the parsons. The efforts of the Church of England chaplains were supplemented by chaplains of other denominations, but these only visited the wards and did not give their whole time to the hospital.
Five chaplains were appointed in succession to Endell Street, but, except the Rev. Edward Wells, none of them remained there for any length of time. Mr. Wells’s close and happy association with the hospital continued for more than two years and was only terminated in 1919 by his decision to accept a living. From time to time, a locum tenens came for holiday duty or during an interregnum; but the duties were not easy, and the young and inexperienced men who were sent must often have felt discouraged.
The attitude of the soldier to the chaplain was one of shyness or embarrassment. He was unwilling to be seen talking long with him because other men might tease him about it. Every new chaplain approached him in a different way—some with assumed confidence, some with a brotherly bluffness, some with diffidence. They seemed to find it as hard to be natural as he did. One of them who laid his hand on the patients’ heads and stroked their faces, ruined his own cause by the discomfort he caused them. A convalescent, speaking of him, said, ‘I am sure he speaks beautifully, but I never could listen: I was so afraid he was going to kiss me.’ And the fear was not unfounded; for in his earnestness, the parson used to bend nearer and nearer, till the men became so nervous that they almost screamed.
Visits out of ordinary hours had a terrifying effect upon the seriously ill, and the wrath of Heaven, in the form of the Chief Surgeon, overtook one chaplain who ventured to disturb a case she was specially concerned about at eleven o’clock at night and again at seven in the morning.
Private Stephens, white and trembling, asked: ‘Doctor, is it true I am dying?’