But we know well that there are now living in this glorious old isle, men calling themselves Britons, unpatriotic enough and un-English enough to depreciate and even to endeavour to crush those that have saved them from dishonour. Gentlemen, Englishmen, is this justice and Christian charity to those to whose heroic courage and devoted patriotism it is owing that the sacred soil of old England has been unprofaned by a foreign foe? Countrymen, your hearths and homes are inviolate, your national feelings uninsulted, your peace and happiness undestroyed. Whilst all the Continental nations of Europe have, in turn, had to drink to the dregs the cup of humiliation, Old England, under the protection of the Great I AM, and the indomitable pluck of her sons, has escaped the violence and dreadful visitations of war—all that the horrors, miseries, and devastation of evil passions of lust, rapine, and cruelty can inflict. We say again, happy England knows nothing of cruel war: she breaks her daily bread in peace; seed-time and harvest never fail; domestic happiness, human loves, and human friendships are never interrupted; and on each revolving Sabbath her church bells calmly and peacefully invite all, old and young, rich and poor, to the house of prayer and thanksgivings. I think most of my readers will say, Shame on all those that would try to traduce and humiliate the spirit of the British soldier or sailor who have for centuries proved to the world that they are true types of an undefeated race. These favoured isles know nothing about their homes in flames, their property pillaged, their mothers, their wives and daughters defiled and dishonoured, their children massacred before their eyes, themselves insulted; and should the broken-hearted husband open his mouth, shot or chopped to pieces. Thus far, these glorious old isles know nothing of the rough clash of war: know nothing of warfare but the sight of hostile standards as war trophies: know nothing of the roar of cannon or the roll of musketry: know nothing of weeping mothers with smiling infants at their breasts, searching amidst piles of dead for their loved ones. And surely her brave war-worn and patriotic defenders are entitled at least to your gratitude and good report, and not let them starve—
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“With half their limbs in battle lopp’d away, Beg bitter bread through realms their valour sav’d.” |
I appeal, “not for myself,” but for my comrades, to you, “Englishmen.”
Unity! Unity! “Unity is strength.” The great German Empire knows it well. The strongest nation in the world would think twice before they attacked them. They dwell together in unity. And we feel compelled to say, the man who tries to dismember our empire is no friend, but a traitor.
Before we close this book, just a few words upon Union. This dear old isle, with her glorious offspring—an empire such as this world has never seen before! of which Britons are so justly proud. Let us for a moment look for the past empires. Babylon, in the zenith of her power, where is she? Medo-Persia, in the plenitude of her far-reaching sway, where is she? Greece, in all her Alexandrian pride of conquest, where is she? Rome, in the cruel slavery of universal dominion, where is she? The great French Empire, as under Napoleon, with his military despotic power, where is it? The great Mogul Empire, with its despotic grinding power, where is it? They none of them trusted or looked to the strong arm of the Great I AM. We would point out that our glorious empire is larger, stronger, and better than them all. Larger in area, and with a population exceeding three hundred millions; stronger, in doing battle for the right; for when Britain draws the sword in a just cause, woe be to the enemy. The same unconquerable spirit is in the Briton, and the same unchanging God watches this little isle with a jealous eye. Let us be true to ourselves, and faithful to our father’s God, and we have nothing to fear. Better, because her laws are founded on the Book of books—Divine truth—fit for the universe. The first and the wisest thing for us to look to is the realization of the bond of universal brotherhood, binding our far-reaching empire in federal union, and making us what we now are, in race and blood—a perfect mighty whole. This, my dear reader, is no wild dream, but a thing that is certain of accomplishment, because the materials are all ready to hand. That hour will surely come, although we may not live to see it. So take heed. The blessings and advantages of such a union to the universe would be unspeakable. Let us ask ourselves why we occupy the position of eminence amongst the nations of the earth to-day? Why God cares for and watches over us so tenderly and unceasingly? Is it not, reader, that we are His people—set apart for the accomplishment of His high purpose? Why is it we do not keep up such huge armies as other nations?—that we are the beautiful isle of the sea, set apart by an all-wise God to proclaim the riches of His mercies to the children of men? To proclaim, I say, the glad tidings, that “there is but one Mediator between God and man—the Man Christ Jesus.” A man must be blind indeed not to see that the strength of Britain lies in the powerful arm of Him who spake a world into existence, and who said to the raging billows, “Peace! be still.” Britain, as a nation, has for many years openly acknowledged God in all her doings. Again, He has committed to our care the oracles of His divine will towards the children of men. He has honoured us before all the nations of the earth. In the history of mankind throughout all ages there is no parallel to our own case, where so vast an empire has come from such small beginnings. And just in proportion to our trust in God, so shall we be true to ourselves, and the rest of humanity. We are made up of a “multitude of nations.” We possess “the gates of our enemies.” Let us, then, march on, in the pleasant bonds of love, towards a higher life; the reward of which is set before us, and to all who love God and keep His commandments. So let our watchword be, Union! Union!! Union!!!—in the best interests of common humanity.
Now, how can we close our book better than by asking His blessing still to rest upon this glorious old isle. That He may still protect and bless her most Gracious Majesty Queen Victoria; while we repeat the cry—“From war, good Lord deliver us.”
The reader, I hope, will overlook all imperfections, knowing this comes from the pen of one who has tried to do his duty upon many a hard-fought field, and who is ready to do it again, rather than see the flag—that glorious old flag!—that every honest Briton loves so well, trampled in the dust.
T. Gowing,
Late Sergeant-Major, 7th Royal Fusiliers.