" TONI KETTLE...*
UPON the roll of Mehemet, Roman Cathodic and Nationalist and sworn enemies of " England," who have laid down their live. in the fight for civilization against the Prussian barbarian, stand forth the names of Willi...III Redmond mud Thome. Kettle. They would have repellent with fierce wrath the suggestion that they were braver or more devoted to the cause of Ireland and of all small nations than those brothers of theirs in death whose names shine lees gloriously. They were bettor known, that inn all, and had the wider =port llll Rice of conspicuously setting forth in life and in death the faith that was in them.
Thomas M. Kettle—known always 119 " Tom Kettle," and loved by political enemies no less than by political friends—was aged thirty-four when the war broke out. He was educated as a lawyer, and was called to the Irish Bar in 1905, but he can scarcely be said to have practised. He was a brilliant writer and speaker, and his own tastes took hint into the House of Conutione nun a Nationalist Member in 1906. Throe years Inter he became Professor of National Economics in the National Galva-14y of Ireland, and in 1010 gave up his scat in Parlinment because he could not combine the duties of a Professor and M.P. Lecturing and literature then elliimed hint, and when one made the wetter./ chapters, integer-1 though they are, which have been collected into this book, his gifts as a writer of pure and living English. stand out =- challengeable. Ho had a cunning gift of phrase, both in speaking and writing, with width he could command tears or laughter. Ho WWI a linguist and a traveller; ho know Belgium and Prance and Germany and Rusin as ho know Ireland. But his levee, his twin- loves, were France and Ireland. We deliberately put Franco first, since the influence of Franco upon his mind and upon hie style is conspicuous in all his work. " My only counsel to Ireland is," he wrote, " that to become deeply Irish the must biome European." Kettle was a European first and an Irishmen next_ He
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• The Ways of War. By Pram.. T. 11 litter, fleet. Seri Dublin reknit.. With a bkoloir by Lis Wile. Loudon: ton stable sun Co. 17s- Oa 9tti fought upon the aide of Groat Britain in the war because she was the champion of Justioe in Europe. " Let this war go forward," he wrote in the Daily News during those first two months which he spent in stricken Belgium, " on its own merits and its own strong justice. After the war of the peoples let us have the people's peace. Let us drop statecraft and return to the Ten Command- ments—now that we have got such a good bit of the way back." He wee in Belgium when war broke out, and this intimate contact with Barbarism at war with a peaceful, unoffending people burnt ineradicable impressions upon his brain. Those impressions aro act out in the letters " Under the Heel of the Hun " which form part of this book, and their spirit may be grasped from one early passage It is impossible not to be with Belgium in this struggle, it is impossible any longer to be passive. Germany has thrown down a well-considered challenge to all the forces of our civilization. War is hell, but it is only a bell of suffering, not of dishonour, and through it over its flaming coals Justice must walk, were it on bare foot."
In November, 1914, he joined what he called the " Army of Freedom." Ho became a Second Lieutenant in the Dublin Fusiliers, and ho fell at Ginchy on September 9th, 1916, during the Somme' advance. He hated war, yet, like as many others who hate war with all their hearts and souls, he went through with it as the most gallant of soldiers. He did nut want to die—in his men words, " the sacrifice is over-groat "—but he was content. In his last letter, written to his brother upon the day of his death, he said :— " I am calm and happy but desperately anxious to live.... The big guns are coughing and smacking their shells, which sound for all the world like overhead express trains, at anything from 10 to 100 per minute in this sector ; the men aro grubbing and an odd one is writing home. Somewhere the Choosers of the Slain are touching, as in our Norse story they used to touch, with invisible wands those who are about to die."
And as Kettle was writing this last letter the Choosers of the Slain with their invisible wands were at that moment touching him.
How well Kettle knew and loved France may be learned from the chapter " The New France " written before the war, and that glowing tribute to the " Soldier-Priests " of the now France composed much later. We regard the " Soldier-Priests," exag- gerated though it may be by Kettle's ardent Roman Catholicism, as the finest chapter in this book. Much of it consists of quotations from hooka and letters showing how these fighting priests of to nouvelle Franie have by their devoted example of religion in action brought back religion to France. He quotes a writer in the Journal de (leave, an organ of Swiss Protestantism. 7—
" Observe that there is not a list of those who have fallen in the field of honour, or echo are cited in the Order of the Day of the Army, in which you will not find priests. Such a one carried a flag into action ; another, recommended for the Legion of Honour, was killed on that very day ; a third, seeing his company waver— he was a Lieutenant—leaped to their head shouting : I am a priest, I do not fear death! Forward!' He recovered the position but fell riddled with bullets. Or we read such stories as this : After the battle, among the wounded and agonizing, a soldier not so badly wounded as the rent, dragged himself to an erect position and cried out to the dying ' I am a priest. Receive absolution.' And he blessed them with his mutilated hand."
As chaplains and as atrotcher-bearers and as fighters those soldier- priests of the new France have died gloriously for their faith.
And as were the priests, so worn the nuns. Kettle tells how Sister Julio, nurse at the field hospital of Garbeviller, woo decorated with the erotic. of Chevalier of the Legion of Honour and formally saluted by a squadron of Chasaeurs. The story of the salute is a beautiful ono, which wo must quote. The Captain of Chassours halts before the hospital and asks to see Sister Julie 7— " ' Sister, will you do us a favour 1 Permit me to parade ray soldiers before you.' Prevailing with difficulty over her modesty, the Captain has his way. Turning to his squadron he orders the • Portez Lance.' Comrades, you remember when we checked the Germans here on August 25th. We saw in this direction huge flames arising up into the heavens. You see what these flames
meant. . . Well, in the middle of this evacuated village, tinder the shells and bullets, even after the retreat of our heroics infantry who—one against ten—had held the bridge so long, a woman remained here at the poet of charity attending to the wounded, lavishing her oare on all. It was Sister Julie. The President of the Republic has hung on her breast the Creels of the brave. Salute it ! ' So, with swords and lances at the salute, the squadron swept on to battle."
Read this book that you may receive comfort and confidence from the unquenchable spirit of the new France. Read the Memoir, written simply and movingly by Kettle's widow, that you may come to love the man for what, he was and the country which begat him.
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