The British played the lion's part in the great struggle; but without the splendid support of the French and the Belgians they could have achieved nothing. The regular regiments of the line proved themselves to be composed of the finest fighting material in the world; the cavalry, playing the part of infantry, on foot and in the trenches, were no less wonderful; and the gunners, though outmatched in numbers and weight of artillery, showed marvellous skill and tenacity; while the citizen soldiers, called from their peaceful pursuits to the unfamiliar work of war, displayed the spirit of veteran troops. The great struggle round Ypres was a soldiers' victory. There was little room for generalship; nevertheless Sir John French, by his coolness and doggedness, by the confidence with which he animated his men, and by the cheery good will with which he encouraged them, must be regarded as the real inspirer of victory.
In the centre of Calcutta is the famous Maidan,[100] or Esplanade, a great space of turf and trees and gardens, which is the special glory of the city. Here you will find monuments to the great soldiers and statesmen who have won and kept for us "the brightest jewel in the British crown." Perhaps the noblest of all these monuments is that which commemorates the martial fame of Lord Roberts of Kandahar.[101] Frederick Sleigh Roberts was born at Cawnpore[102] five years before Queen Victoria came to the throne. He was educated in England, but when his school days were over he returned to the land of his birth, and became an officer in the Indian army.
Hardly had he returned when that terrible uprising of the native soldiers which we call the Indian Mutiny began, and the first warfare which young Roberts knew was against the well-armed and well-trained sepoys[103] who had broken their oath of loyalty to the Queen, and were striving to drive the British out of the peninsula.
Some years ago, when I visited India, I went, as in duty bound, to Delhi,[104] the present capital, and the great storm centre of fighting during the Mutiny. Memorials of that terrible time abound in Delhi. About a mile to the north of the city is the "Ridge," a low, narrow hill on which a band of Britons, the mere skeleton of an army, hungry, fever-stricken, "stormed at with shot and shell," held its own against an army of sepoys during the awful heat of an Indian summer.
From the Flagstaff Tower in which the women and children took refuge during that dread time a road runs directly to the city, and on the right of it is a little garden in which stands a bronze statue to John Nicholson,[105] the hero of the siege. Close by the Nicholson statue is the Kashmir Gate, preserved in its ruinous condition to recall the marvellous daring of the six Britons who blew it up, and thus opened a way for the British troops to enter the city. Roberts, as a young subaltern of twenty-five, saw Nicholson lying wounded and dying by the side of the road not far from this gate. Nicholson was the most distinguished of that group of young men who by almost superhuman devotion saved India for the Empire during the Mutiny. It was under the influence of such men as Nicholson—men of lofty ideals of duty, of iron resolution and unfaltering courage—and amidst scenes of the most glorious heroism, that Roberts began his military career. Nicholson was his type and model. When the Mutiny was at an end Roberts was a veteran of ability and experience, and he wore the Victoria Cross on his breast.
For forty-one years he served India, taking part in all the important campaigns, and gradually rising in the service until, in 1885, he became Commander-in-Chief. He won great fame in the Afghanistan campaigns, and became the idol of the Indian army, to whom he was known as "Bobs." No Indian commander-in-chief has ever been so admired and loved by the troops under his command. He never strove for popularity, but he could not escape it. His men assayed him, and found him pure gold throughout.
Earl Roberts of Kandahar.
By no means was his life-work done when he left India. When disaster succeeded disaster during the early months of the Boer War, the nation looked to him as the one man who could pluck victory out of defeat. With his appearance on the veldt came the turn of the tide, and after his great march to Pretoria[106] the issue of the contest was no longer in doubt. Full of years and honours, he might have retired from public life, conscious that he had served his country greatly, and that his fame was secure. But he ever "scorned delights and lived laborious days," and when he had long passed the allotted span he devoted himself to the task of trying to bring home to the British people the danger of allowing their young men to grow up unprepared for that great European war which he was convinced would come within a few short years. Alas! we did not heed him, and when the day of battle arrived it found us unprepared, and forced to improvise armies while strife was raging and the fate of the Empire was hanging in the balance.