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The Glory of English Prose - Letters to My Grandson by Stephen Coleridge
page 67 of 149 (44%)
wreaked his vengeance upon nobility that was beyond his
comprehension and valour that rendered him insignificant.

Of these horrible acts the proofs stand unchallenged, and for such
deeds as these the world has cast him out: thrown him down from one
of the greatest thrones in history; and left him in the place to which,
white with terror, he ignominiously fled, stripped of all his power and
splendour, his crowns, his crosses, and his diadems.

Idle is it for this man and his apologists to plead any extenuation or
excuse.

It was his custom in the plenitude of his power to declare himself
answerable for his actions only to God and himself. Then let the
judgment of God be upon him. When we recall the awful and
unnumbered horrors with which he covered Europe, I doubt whether all
history can furnish a parallel to him.

By his authority helpless Belgium was invaded, 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,
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