f a passion for honesty than a lack of beauty. And this knowledge of
his goes with the conviction that no man will ever appeal to the British
nation in vain who bases his appeal on justice, fair play, and charity.
What a nation to lead! What an inspiration for a true leader!
He is convinced that no moral appeal has ever been made to the British
people in vain. And yet he has never made that appeal. With grief and
sorrow he watches the stampeding of the nation he so deeply admires into
murderous and indiscriminate hatred of our enemies in the late war. He
saw the majority of the British people's war-like mood degraded and
vulgarized by the propaganda of hate. But he made no move to save the
national honour. The better part, and as I firmly believe the greater
part, of the nation was waiting for moral leadership: particularly were
the young men of the nation who marched to death with the purest flame
of patriotism in their hearts hungering for such leadership; but Lord
Robert Cecil, the one man in Parliament who might have sounded that
note, was silent. The voice that should have made Britain's glory
articulate, the voice that might have brought America into the War in
1914 and rendered Germany from the outset a house divided against
itself, was never heard. Lord Robert Cecil looked on, and Mr. Lloyd
George sprang into the prize-ring with his battle-cry of the knock-out
blow.
I wonder if even the sublimest humility can excuse so fatal a silence.
Great powers have surely great responsibilities.
I remember speaking to Lord Robert on one occasion of the shooting of
Miss Cavell--a brutal act which distressed him very deeply. I said I
thought we weakened our case against Germany by speaking of that
atrocious act as a "murder," since by the rules of war, as she herself
confessed, Miss Cavell incurred the penalty of death. He replied: "What
strikes me as most serious in that act is not so much that the Germans
should think it no crime to shoot a woman, but that they should be
wholly incapable of realizing how such an atrocious deed would shock the
conscience of the world. They were surprised--think of it!--by the
world's indignation!"
In this remark you may see how far deeper his reflections take him than
what passes for reflection among the propagandists of hate. Abuse of
Germany never occupied his mind, which was sorrowfully engaged in
striving to comprehend the spiritual conditions of the German people: he
realized, t
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