But I could make no impression on them. The war, to them, was a long way off, and they had only a kind of detached interest in it. They quite agreed with me that, as we were in it, we should have to see it through, only some one else must see it through, not they. The thought of their becoming soldiers seemed utterly alien to them. I discovered, too, that all of them had a kind of feeling that they would lower themselves in the social grade if they donned the King's uniform. In the past, the Army had largely been recruited from men of the extreme lower orders. Of course, I am referring now to privates. When a young fellow got into trouble, or had disgraced himself in any way, the Army was a kind of harbor of refuge. Indeed, it was quite common for magistrates to give incipient criminals the choice between joining the Army and being sent to prison. As a consequence, these Cornish miners, who in their way were exceedingly proud, thought it beneath them to don the King's uniform. Besides, as Mr. Lethbridge had said on a previous occasion, the whole spirit of the county was utterly alien to anything like militarism.
As, towards noon, I found my way back to my hut, a great feeling of bitterness came into my heart. "Wouldn't I enlist, if I were able?" I said to myself. "I would to heaven that I were strong and well, and able to do something; but I am nothing but a useless hulk. If the spirit shown by these young fellows is the spirit of the country, the Germans will smash us in a few weeks."
For I was not blind to the problem which faced us. I knew that France was not prepared in the same way that Germany was. I remembered that, forty-five years before, Von Moltke with his perfectly trained army had swept down like an avalanche, and carried away the French army as if by a flood. I knew, too, that the German forces were far stronger now than they were then, and that, with the thoroughness which characterized them, they had prepared everything to the minutest detail. I reflected that at that time the German guns were thundering at the Liège forts, and that, except some miracle happened, the German hordes would sweep towards Paris, as in the great dêbâcle of 1870. I knew we had a little army of, perhaps, 200,000 men, but what could they do against such a mighty host? I wondered, too, whether our guns were equal to those of the Germans. Altogether, I was very pessimistic.
After this, some days passed without anything happening. For some reason or other I seemed to be left severely alone. No one visited me, neither did I go out of the house. The weather was somewhat inclement, and I was too depressed to brave the angry clouds which hung in the sky. I went neither to Church nor to Chapel, but hung around my hut, sometimes listlessly walking along the cliffs, but, in the main, staying in my little room.
"I suppose, sir," said Simpson, one evening, "that there is going to be a recruiting meeting in the village schoolroom."
"How did you find that out, Simpson?" I asked.
"Saw a bill, sir. Squire Treherne is going to take the chair, and the Vicar and several others are going to speak."
"When is the meeting to be, Simpson?"
"To-morrow night, sir."
Although I felt far from well, I determined to go. I was far away from the centres of life, and felt utterly incapable of doing anything; but I wanted to feel the throb of humanity's pulses, longed to take my share in the great world struggle.