vaded, treaties treacherously
broken, and her people slaughtered. By his authority her priests were
murdered in cold blood and her nuns violated by his vile soldiery. By his
authority poison gases were first projected with low cunning upon brave
and honourable adversaries. By his authority hospital ships at sea were
sent to the bottom.
But time and the might of free nations have, after fearful sufferings,
dissipated his invincible armies, and they have shrivelled before the
wrath of mankind. The whole world rose up in its offended majesty and
tore from him that shining armour of which it was his custom to boast;
and, with the brand of Cain upon him, he now lies obscurely in Holland,
bereft of all the trappings of his sinister power.
There were times in the past when justice would have avenged such
awful crimes as lie at this man's door with the torture of his living body
and the desecration of his lifeless remains, but his conquerors disdained
to debase themselves by imitating his own abominations; and they left
him to afford a spectacle to posterity as the supreme example of
human ignominy!
When you are old, Antony, and this greatest of all wars has become
part of England's history, you will be proud and happy to remember
that your own father, at the first call for volunteers, laid down the
pencil and scale of his peaceful profession, went out to fight for his
country in the trenches in France, was wounded almost to death, and
was saved only by the skill and devotion of one of the greatest
surgeons of the day.[2] All the best blood of England, Scotland, and
Ireland went marching together to defend the freedom of the world,
and upon their hearts were engraven the glorious words:--
"Blessed be the Lord my strength, which teacheth my hands to war
and my fingers to fight."
May such a call never come to our beloved country again! But if it does,
Antony, I know where you will be found without need of exhortations
from me.
Your loving old
G.P.
[Footnote 1: Now in my library.--S.C.]
[Footnote 2: Sir Arbuthnot Lane.]
17
MY DEAR ANTONY,
Grattan, of whom I have already written, had in the first Lord Plunket
a successor and a compatriot very little his inferior in the gift of
oratory.
He was born in 1764, and was therefore some fourteen years younger
than Grattan, whom he survived by thirty-four years.
Like Grattan, he displayed a burning patriotism and, like him, fiercely
opposed t
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