So far, this book has necessarily been chiefly a record of events. That was inevitable, for the man of action writes his story in deeds. Nor was there ever a great soldier who made less clamour in the world of newspapers than General French. He has never adopted the studied reticence of Kitchener nor yet the chill aloofness of certain of his colleagues. War correspondents are not anathema to him; neither does he shudder at the sight of the reporter's pencil. Yet, somehow, few anecdotes cluster round his name.
Perhaps that is because his modesty is not a pose, although it has become almost a tradition. It is simply a natural trait in a modest and rather retiring disposition. French simply will not be talked about—and there is an end of the matter.
If one were asked to describe the man, one might best answer that he is the Englishman to the nth. degree. It is usual to find that the man of extraordinary merit is in some degree a contrast with and a criticism of the mere average mortal of his set. The dour urbanity of Kitchener, for instance, is Oriental rather than English, and contrasts strangely with the choleric tradition of the army officer. So the infinite alertness and constant good humour of Roberts has a quality of Latin esprit very foreign to the English temperament. But there are no such peculiarities about French. He is the very essence of healthy normality.
Yet, although of Celtic descent, he is essentially English. He has not hacked his way to fame in the manner of the Scot, nor has he leapt upon her pedestal with the boisterous humour of the Irishman. He has got there in the dogged but sporting English way, taking Fortune's gifts when they came, but never pushing or scrambling for them when they were out of reach.
One catches the spirit of the man in the schoolboy. When he first went to school at Harrow, the boys, knowing that sisters had been responsible for his education, were prepared to take it out of him. But as French was ready to fight at the slightest provocation, and equally ready to swear eternal friendship when the fight was done, he quickly won his way through respect to popularity.
AN ADMIRER OF NAPOLEON
Despite this quality, the steadfast object of his admiration has been one of the most abnormal and theatrical figures in history—Napoleon. It is, however, Napoleon the soldier and not the personality that has attracted French, who, by the way, possesses a wonderful collection of Napoleonic relics. He sees Napoleon as the greatest strategist the world has known. As such the Corsican claims his unstinted admiration: but there his admiration stops. For French is altogether humane. There is nothing of the iron heel about either his methods or his manners. His extreme parsimony of life we have seen as the cause of the only criticism which has ever been levelled against him.
By a strange coincidence, however, his worship of Napoleon has proved itself invaluable in an unexpected way. In following Napoleon's campaigns out in detail, French had traversed every inch of Waterloo, and much of the Belgian battle-ground in the European war. There can be little doubt that the success of some of his work has been due to his detailed knowledge of the scene of operations.
Inevitably, perhaps, French suggests Napoleon in certain subtle traits of character rather than in personality. His rapidity of thought, for instance, has probably rarely been equalled, since Napoleon set Europe by the ears. An officer under his command in South Africa, has recorded how, day after day, for weeks on end, French would answer the most intricate questions on policy and tactics over the telephone with scarcely a moment's delay. Such inhuman speed and accuracy of decision link French with the greatest commanders of history.
There is just a suggestion of Napoleon too, in his habitual attitudes. He usually stands with legs wide apart and arms folded either across his chest or clasped behind his back. But the perfect cheerfulness of his smile banishes any fear of Corsican churlishness of manner. It is very certain that French is not feared by his staff: he is worshipped by them. The reason for that is not far to seek. Although his temper is irascible, it is not enduring. Often it will flash out in wrathful words, but the storm is quickly over. Men of this choleric temper are always beloved, for good humour inevitably underlies the ebullitions of so light a rage. They never nurse hatreds nor brood over trifles. Also they are healthily impervious to the wiles of flattery or the snare of favouritism. There is nothing of the jealous and erratic genius about French. To read his dispatches is to find praise lavishly given to subordinates but no mention of self. For he looks after his assistants and leaves his own record to fate. He has, indeed, mastered the art of being great enough to allow others to be great. Hence the excellence which always marks his General Staff.