'What is ghastly?' I asked.
'Look here, sir,'—and his voice became very intense,—'I suppose you are typical of the educated Britisher. You stand half-way between the extreme Puritan on the one hand, and the mere man of the world on the other. Tell me this: Do you regard the body as of more importance than the soul? Do you think material success more vital than the uplifting of the real man? Do you look upon any gain won at the expense of a man's character as a good thing?'
'No,' I replied, 'I don't. I am afraid that, as a people, we are gripped very strongly by the material side of things, but theoretically, at all events, yes, and in a deeper way, too, we know that character is of more importance than material advancement.'
'Go a step further, sir. Supposing we could win this war at the expense of the highest ideals of the nation; supposing we could crush German militarism, and all the devilry which it has dragged at its heels, by poisoning our own national life, and by binding ourselves by the chains which we are trying to break in Germany; would it be a good thing?'
'Very doubtful, at all events,' I replied; 'but why are you harping on that?'
'Because I am bewildered, staggered. Don't mistake me; I have not the slightest doubt about the righteousness of our cause. If ever there was a call from Almighty God, there is a call now, and that call is increasing in its intensity as the days go by. If Germany won, the world would not be a fit place to live in; it would be crushed under the iron heel of materialism and brutalism. All that we regard as beautiful and holy, all that the best life of the world has been struggling after, would be strangled, and the race of the nations would be after material gain, material power, brute force. The more I think of it, the more I realize this,—we are fighting for the liberty of the world. But aren't our own men becoming enslaved while they are fighting? Aren't we seeking to win this war of God at the price of our own manhood?'
He was so earnest, so sincere, that I could not help being impressed. Besides, there was truth, a tremendous amount of truth, in what he was saying.
'Either this is God's war,' he went on, 'and we are fighting for God's cause, or we are not. If it is simply a matter of meeting force by force, devilry by devilry then there is not much to choose between us. But if we as a nation,—the pioneer of nations, the greatest nation under the sun,—are fighting for the advancement of the Kingdom of God, then we should eschew the devil's weapons. We should see to it that no victory is won at the cost of men's immortal souls. Besides, we gain no real advantage; I am certain of that. I have been in this war long enough to know that the stamina of our men, the quality of our men, is not made better by this damnable thing. It is all the other way. Our Army is a poorer army because of it, and we have lost more than we have gained by the use of it. That is looking at it purely from the physical standpoint. But surely, if a man believes in Almighty God, he has higher conceptions; when a man fights in the Spirit of God, and looks to Him for strength and for guidance, he has Omnipotent forces on his side. That is why we ought to have won months ago. In reality, this war at the beginning, was a war of might against right, and we have been making it a war of might against might, and we have been willing to sacrifice right for might.'
'But surely,' I said, 'you who have seen a lot of fighting, and have been over the top several times, know that the conditions are so terrible that men do need help. You know, as well as I do, that an artillery bombardment is hell, and that it needs a kind of artificial courage to go through what the lads have to go through.'
'And that brings me back to the point from which I started,' he cried. 'Are we willing to win this war at the cost of men's immortal souls? Mind you, I don't admit your premise for a moment; to admit it would be to impugn the courage of tens of thousands of the boys who have all along refused to touch it. Do you mean to tell me that the abstainers in the Army are less courageous than those who drink? Does any one dare to state that the lads who have refused to touch it have been less brave than those who have had it? To say that would be to insult the finest fellows who ever lived. But here is the point; we admit that drink is a curse, that it is a more baneful enemy than the Germans, that it is degrading not only the manhood of England, but cursing British womanhood, and yet we encourage its use. Now, assuming that our victory depends on this stuff, are we justified in using it? It may be rank treason to say so, but I say better lose the war than win it by means of that which is cursing the souls of our men. But we are not faced with that alternative. Our Army, brave as it is, great as it is, glorious as it is, would be braver, greater, and more glorious, if the thing were abolished for ever. And more than that, by making a great sacrifice for the sake of our highest manhood, we should link ourselves to Almighty God, and thus realize a power now unknown.'