Part 2

This be our part, for so we serve you best, So best confirm their prowess and their pride, Your warrior sons, to whom in this high test Our fortunes we confide.

SIR OWEN SEAMAN _Reprinted by permission of London "Punch"_

STATEMENT BY LORD KITCHENER

(_House of Lords, August 25, 1914_)

My Lords, as this is the first time I have had the honour of addressing your Lordships, I must ask for the indulgence of the House. In the first place, I desire to make a personal statement. Noble Lords on both sides of the House doubtless know that while associating myself in the fullest degree for the prosecution of the war with my colleagues in His Majesty's Government, my position on this bench does not in any way imply that I belong to any political party, for, as a soldier, I have no politics. Another point is that my occupation of the post of Secretary of State for War is a temporary one. The terms of my service are the same as those under which some of the finest portions of our manhood, now so willingly stepping forward to join the colours, are engaging--that is to say, for the war, or, if it lasts longer than three years, then for three years. It has been asked why this latter limit has been fixed. It is because that should this disastrous war be prolonged--and no one can foretell with any certainty its duration--then after three years' war there will be others fresh and fully prepared to take our places and see this matter through.

The very serious conflict in which we are now engaged on the Continent has been none of our seeking. It will undoubtedly strain the resources of our Empire and entail considerable sacrifices on our people. These will be willingly borne for our honour and for the preservation of our position in the world; and they will be shared by our Dominions beyond the seas, now sending contingents and assistance of every kind to help the Mother Country in this struggle. If I am unable, owing to military considerations for the best interests of the Allied Armies in the field, to speak with much detail on the present situation of our Army on the Continent, I am sure your Lordships will pardon me for the necessary restraint which is imposed upon me.

The Expeditionary Force has taken the field on the French North-West frontier, and advanced to the neighbourhood of Mons in Belgium. Our troops have already been for thirty-six hours in contact with a superior force of German invaders. During that time they have maintained the traditions of British soldiers, and have behaved with the utmost gallantry.

BETWEEN MIDNIGHT AND MORNING

You that have faith to look with fearless eyes Beyond the tragedy of a world at strife, And trust that out of night and death shall rise The dawn of ampler life;

Rejoice, whatever anguish rend your heart, That God has given you, for a priceless dower, To live in these great times and have your part In Freedom's crowning hour;

That you may tell your sons who see the light High in the heavens, their heritage to take:-- "I saw the powers of darkness put to flight! I saw the morning break!"

SIR OWEN SEAMAN _By permission of the Author_

THE VIGIL

(This poem was first published before 1914, but during the Great War it was very widely quoted, the refrain voicing the spirit of England.)

ENGLAND! where the sacred flame Burns before the inmost shrine, Where the lips that love thy name Consecrate their hopes and thine, Where the banners of thy dead Weave their shadows overhead, Watch beside thine arms to-night, Pray that God defend the Right.

Think that when to-morrow comes War shall claim command of all, Thou must hear the roll of drums, Thou must hear the trumpet's call. Now before they silence ruth, Commune with the voice of truth; England! on thy knees to-night Pray that God defend the Right.

Hast thou counted up the cost, What to foeman, what to friend? Glory sought is Honour lost, How should this be knighthood's end? Know'st thou what is Hatred's meed? What the surest gain of Greed? England! wilt thou dare to-night Pray that God defend the Right?

Single-hearted, unafraid, Hither all thy heroes came, On this altar's steps were laid Gordon's life and Outram's fame. England! if thy will be yet By their great example set, Here beside thine arms to-night Pray that God defend the Right.

So shalt thou when morning comes Rise to conquer or to fall, Joyful hear the rolling drums, Joyful hear the trumpets call. Then let Memory tell thy heart; "_England! what thou wert, thou art!_" Gird thee with thine ancient might, Forth! and God defend the Right!

SIR HENRY NEWBOLT _By permission of the Author_

THE HOUR

We've shut the gates by Dover Straits, And North, where the tides run free, Cheek by jowl, our watchdogs prowl, Gray hulks in a grayer sea. And the prayer that England prays to-night-- O Lord of our destiny!-- As the foam of our plunging prows, is white; We have stood for peace, and we war for right. God give us victory!

Now slack, now strung, from the mainmast flung, The flag throbs fast in the breeze; Strained o'er the foam, like the hearts at home That beat for their sons on the seas. For mothers and wives are praying to-night-- O Lord of our destiny!-- But we've no time, for our lips are tight, Our fists are clenched, and we're stripped to fight. God give us victory!

The west winds blow in the face of the foe-- Old Drake is beating his drum-- They drank to "The Day", for "The Hour" we pray; The day and the hour have come. The sea-strewn Empire prays to-night-- O Lord of our destiny!-- Thou did'st give the seas into Britain's might, For the freedom of Thy seas we smite. God give us victory!

JAMES BERNARD FAGAN _By permission of the Author_

OFF HELIGOLAND

(_August 28, 1914_)

Ghostly ships in a ghostly sea, (Here's to Drake in the Spanish Main!) Hark to the turbines, running free, Oil-cups full and the orders plain. Plunging into the misty night, Surging into the rolling brine, Never a word, and never a light, --This for England, that love of mine!

Look! a gleam on the starboard bow, (Here's to the _Fighting Téméraire_!) Quartermaster, be ready now, Two points over, and keep her there. Ghostly ships--let the foemen grieve. Yon's the Admiral tight and trim, And one more--with an empty sleeve-- Standing a little aft of him!

Slender, young, in a coat of blue, (Here's to the _Agamemnon's_ pride!) Out of the mists that long he knew, Out of the _Victory_, where he died, Here to the battle-front he came. See, he smiles in his gallant way! Ghostly ships in a ghostly game, Roaring guns on a ghostly day!

There in his white silk smalls he stands, (Here's to Nelson, with three times three!) Coming out of the misty lands Far, far over the misty sea. Now the Foe is a crippled wreck, Limping out of the deadly fight. Smiling yond on the quarter-deck Stands the Spirit, all silver-bright.

J. E. MIDDLETON _From "Sea Dogs and Men at Arms"-- G. P. Putnam's Sons, New York. By permission of the Author_

A CALL TO ARMS

(_At the Guildhall, London, September 4, 1914_)

The issue has passed out of the domain of argument into another field. But let me ask you, and through you the world outside, what would have been our condition to-day, if through timidity, or through a perverted calculation of self-interest, or through a paralysis of the sense of honour and duty, we had been base enough to be false to our word and faithless to our friends? Our eyes would have been turned at this moment, with those of the whole civilized world, to Belgium, a small State which has lived for more than seventy years under a several and collective guarantee to which we, in common with Prussia and Austria, were parties. We should have seen, at the instance and by the action of two of those guaranteeing Powers, her neutrality violated, her independence strangled, her territory made use of as affording the easiest and most convenient road to a war of unprovoked aggression against France. We, the British people, should at this moment be standing by, with folded arms and with such countenance as we could command, while this small and unprotected State, in defence of her vital liberties, made a heroic stand against overweening and overwhelming force. We should have been admiring as detached spectators the siege of Liège, the steady and manful resistance of a small army, the occupation of Brussels with all its splendid traditions and memories, the gradual forcing back of the patriotic defenders of their fatherland to the ramparts of Antwerp, countless outrages suffered by them, buccaneering levies exacted from the unoffending civil population, and, finally, the greatest crime committed against civilization and culture since the Thirty Years' War, the sack of Louvain, with its buildings, its pictures, its unique library, its unrivalled associations, a shameless holocaust of irreparable treasures, lit up by blind barbarian vengeance. What account could we, the Government and the people of this country, have been able to render to the tribunal of our national conscience and sense of honour, if, in defiance of our plighted and solemn obligations, we had endured, and had not done our best to prevent, yes, to avenge, these intolerable wrongs? For my part, I say that sooner than be a silent witness, which means in effect a willing accomplice, to this tragic triumph of force over law, and of brutality over freedom, I would see this country of ours blotted out of the pages of history.

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Is there any one in this hall, or in this United Kingdom, or in the vast Empire of which we here stand in the capital and centre, who blames us or repents our decision? If not, as I believe there is not, we must steel ourselves to the task, and, in the spirit which animated our forefathers in their struggle against the dominion of Napoleon, we must, and we shall, persevere to the end.

It would be a criminal mistake to underestimate either the magnitude, the fighting quality, or the staying power of the forces which are arrayed against us; but it would be equally foolish and equally indefensible to belittle our own resources whether for resistance or for attack. Belgium has shown us by memorable and glorious example what can be done by a relatively small State when its citizens are animated and fired by the spirit of patriotism.

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Our self-governing Dominions throughout the Empire, without any solicitation on our part, demonstrated with a spontaneousness and unanimity unparalleled in history their determination to affirm their brotherhood with us, and to make our cause their own.

From Canada, from Australia, from New Zealand, from South Africa, and from Newfoundland, the children of the Empire assert, not as an obligation, but as a privilege, their right and their willingness to contribute money, material, and, what is better than all, the strength and sinews, the fortunes and lives of their best manhood.

India, too, with not less alacrity, has claimed her share in the common task. Every class and creed, British and native, princes and people, Hindus and Mohammedans, vie with one another in a noble and emulous rivalry. Two divisions of our magnificent Indian Army are already on their way. We welcome with appreciation and affection their proffered aid, and, in an Empire which knows no distinction of race or class, where all alike, as subjects of the King-Emperor, are joint and equal custodians of our common interest and fortunes, we here hail with profound and heartfelt gratitude their association side by side and shoulder to shoulder with our home and Dominion troops, under the flag which is a symbol to all of a unity that the world in arms cannot dissever or dissolve.

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Never had a people more or richer sources of encouragement and inspiration. Let us realize, first of all, that we are fighting as a United Empire, in a cause worthy of the highest traditions of our race. Let us keep in mind the patient and indomitable seamen who never relax for a moment, night or day, their stern vigil on the lonely sea. Let us keep in mind our gallant troops, who to-day, after a fortnight's continuous fighting under conditions which would try the mettle of the best army that ever took the field, maintain not only an undefeated but an unbroken front.

Finally, let us recall the memories of the great men and the great deeds of the past, commemorated, some of them, in the monuments which we see around us on these walls, not forgetting the dying message of the younger Pitt--his last public utterance, made at the table of your predecessor, my Lord Mayor, in this very hall: "England has saved herself by her exertions and will, as I trust, save Europe by her example." The England of those days gave a noble answer to his appeal and did not sheathe the sword until, after nearly twenty years of fighting, the freedom of Europe was secured. Let us go and do likewise.

RT. HON. H. H. ASQUITH

AUSTRALIA TO ENGLAND

(_August, 1914_)

By all the deeds to thy dear glory done, By all the life blood spilt to serve thy need, By all the fettered lives thy touch hath freed, By all thy dreams in us anew begun; By all the guerdon English sire to son Hath given of highest vision, kingliest deed, By all thine agony, of God decreed For trial and strength, our fate with thine is one. Still dwells thy spirit in our hearts and lips, Honour and life we hold from none but thee, And if we live thy pensioners no more But seek a nation's might of men and ships, 'Tis but that when the world is black with war Thy sons may stand beside thee strong and free.

ARCHIBALD T. STRONG _By permission of the Author_

EXTRACT FROM SPEECH OF RT. HON. WINSTON CHURCHILL

(_September 11, 1914_)

I was reading in the newspapers the other day that the German Emperor made a speech to some of his regiments in which he urged them to concentrate their attention upon what he was pleased to call "French's contemptible little Army". Well, they are concentrating their attention upon it, and that Army, which has been fighting with such extraordinary prowess, which has revived in a fortnight of adverse actions the ancient fame and glory of our arms upon the Continent, and which to-night, after a long, protracted, harassed, unbroken, and undaunted rearguard action--the hardest trial to which troops can be exposed--is advancing in spite of the loss of one fifth of its numbers, and driving its enemies before it--that Army must be reinforced and backed and supported and increased and enlarged in numbers and in powers by every means and every method that every one of us can employ.

WHAT OF THE FIGHT?

What of the fight? With no vain boast We meet the foeman on the field, But each man's soul is as an host, To fight, to die, but not to yield.

The glory of our splendid past Shines on us as a quenchless sun, That each and all may write at last The simple tale of duty done.

What of the fight? Or well or ill, Whatever chance our hearts are sure; Our fathers' strength is with us still Through good or evil to endure.

Our spirit, though the storm may lower, Burns brighter under darkening skies, Knowing that at the appointed hour The glory of the dawn shall rise.

CLAUDE E. C. H. BURTON ("TOUCHSTONE") _By permission of the Author_

THE MAN OF THE MARNE

(_September, 1914_)

The gray battalions were driving down Like snow from the North on Paris Town. Dread and panic were in the air, The fate of Empires hung by a hair. With the world in the balance, what shall decide? How stem the sweep of the conquering tide? God of Justice, be not far In this our hour of holy war! In one man's valour, where all were men, The strength of a people was gathered then. "My right is weakened, my left is thin, My centre is almost driven in,"-- The soul of a patriot spoke through the hush,-- "I shall advance!" said General Foch.

Forth from Paris to meet the storm They rushed like bees in an angry swarm. By motor and lorry and truck they came Swift as the wind and fierce as flame. Papa Joffre knew the trick Of stinging hot and hard and quick. Not for ambition and not for pride, For France they fought, for France they died, Striking the blow of the Marne that hurled The barbarians back and saved the world. The German against that hope forlorn Broke his drive like a crumpled horn. Their right was weakened, their left was thin, Their centre was almost driven in, When the tide of battle turned with a rush; For France was there--and Ferdinand Foch.

Not since Garibaldi's stroke Freed his land from the Austrian yoke, And Italy after a thousand years Walked in beauty among her peers; Not since Nelson followed the star Of Freedom to triumph at Trafalgar On the tossing floor of the Western seas; No, not since Miltiades Fronted the Persian hosts and won Against the tyrant at Marathon, Has a greater defender of liberty Stood and struck for the cause, than he Whose right was weakened, whose left was thin, Whose centre was almost driven in, But whose iron courage no fate could crush, Nor hinder. "I shall advance!" said Foch.

We who are left to carry the fray For civilization on to-day, The war of the angels for goodly right Against the devil of brutish might,-- The war for manhood, mercy, and love, And peace with honour all price above,-- What shall we answer, how prepare For Destiny's challenge, Who goes there? And pass with the willing and worthy to give Life, that freedom and faith may live? When promise and patience are wearing thin, When endurance is almost driven in, When our angels stand in a waiting hush, Remember the Marne, and Ferdinand Foch!

BLISS CARMAN _By permission of the Author_

COPY OF TELEGRAM FROM KING ALBERT TO KING GEORGE AFTER THE BATTLE OF THE MARNE

(_September 13, 1914_)

His Majesty the King, London

I desire to congratulate you most heartily on the splendid action of the British troops in the Battle of the Marne. In the name of the whole Belgian nation I express to you our deepest admiration for the stubborn courage of the officers and soldiers of your Army.

God will surely help our Armies to avenge the atrocities committed on peaceful citizens and against a country whose only crime has been that she refused to be false to her engagements.

ALBERT

INDIA TO ENGLAND

O England! in thine hour of need, When Faith's reward and Valour's meed Is death or glory, When Faith indites with biting brand, Clasped in each warrior's stiffening hand, A nation's story;

Though weak our hands, which fain would clasp The warrior's sword with warrior's grasp On victory's field; Yet turn, O mighty Mother! turn Unto the million hearts that burn To be thy shield.

Thine equal justice, mercy, grace, Have made a distant alien race A part of thee. 'Twas thine to bid their souls rejoice When first they heard the living voice Of Liberty.

Unmindful of their ancient name, And lost to honour--glory--fame, And sunk in strife, Thou foundst them, whom thy touch hath made Men, and to whom thy breath conveyed A nobler life.

They, whom thy love hath guarded long; They, whom thy care hath rendered strong In love and faith, Whose heartstrings round thy heart entwine. They are, they ever will be, thine In life--in death.

NIZAMAT JUNG (_Native Judge of the High Court of Hyderabad_)

"A SCRAP OF PAPER"

(_At the Queen's Hall, London, September 19, 1914_)

There is no man in this room who has always regarded the prospect of our being engaged in a great war with greater reluctance, with greater repugnance, than I have done throughout the whole of my political life. There is no man more convinced that we could not have avoided this war without national dishonour. I am fully alive to the fact that every nation which has ever engaged in any war has always invoked the sacred name of honour. Many a crime has been committed in its name. There are some crimes being committed now. All the same, national honour is a reality, and any nation that disregards it is doomed. Why is our honour as a country involved in this war? It is because we are bound by honourable obligations to defend the independence, the liberty, the integrity of a small neighbour. She could not have compelled us. She was weak. But the man who declines to discharge his duty because his creditor is too poor to enforce it is a blackguard.

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What is a treaty, says the German Chancellor, but a scrap of paper? Have you any five-pound notes about you? Have you any of those neat little Treasury one-pound notes? If you have, burn them. They are only scraps of paper. What are they made of? Rags! What are they worth? The whole credit of the British Empire! Scraps of paper! I have been dealing with scraps of paper in the last few weeks. We suddenly found the commerce of the world coming to a standstill. The machine had stopped. Why? The machinery of commerce was moved by bills of exchange. I have seen some of them; wretched, crinkled, scrawled over, blotted, frowzy; and yet those scraps of paper moved great ships, laden with thousands of tons of precious cargo, from one end of the world to the other. The motive power behind them was the honour of commercial men.

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This is the story of the little nations. The world owes much to little nations and to little men. This theory of bigness--you must have a big empire and a big nation and a big man--well, long legs have their advantage in a retreat. Frederick the Great chose his warriors for their height, and that tradition has become a policy in Germany. Germany applies that ideal to nations. She will only allow six-foot-two nations to stand in the ranks; but all the world owes much to the little five-foot-five nations. The greatest art of the world was the work of little nations. The most enduring literature of the world came from little nations. The greatest literature of England came from her when she was a nation of the size of Belgium fighting a great empire. The heroic deeds that thrill humanity through generations were the deeds of little nations fighting for their freedom. Ah, yes, and the salvation of mankind came through a little nation. God has chosen little nations as the vessels by which He carries the choicest wines to the lips of humanity, to rejoice their hearts, to exalt their vision, to stimulate and to strengthen their faith; and if we had stood by when two little nations were being crushed and broken by the brutal hands of barbarism, our shame would have rung down through the everlasting ages.

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