In the short dark days of December and January we were cheered by many bold bills and headlines announcing what purported to be victories; and we were comforted through a sad Christmastide by panegyrics on British instinct, pluck, good-temper, energy, and genius for muddling through. Philosophic commentators pointed out that, just as Germany was becoming tired out and short of ammunition, just as she was bringing up troops of worse and worse quality, we should be at our very best, wallowing in our resources of men and material of war. Six months, a year, eighteen months hence—for the estimates varied—Britain would be invincible. Economic commentators on the other hand impressed upon us how much better it was to pay through the nose now, than to have been bleeding ourselves white as the Germans, the French, and the Russians were supposed (though without much justification) to have been doing for a century.
To clinch the triumph of the voluntary system—when the Hour came the Man came with it.
LORD KITCHENER'S APPOINTMENT
Many of these things were truly alleged. Lord Kitchener at any rate was no mirage. The gallantry of our Army was no illusion; indeed, its heroism was actually underrated, for the reason that the extent of its peril had never been fully grasped. Although British commerce had suffered severely from the efforts of a few bold raiders, the achievements of our Navy were such that they could quite fairly be described, as having secured command of the sea.[[1]] The German fleet was held pretty closely within its harbours. We had been able to move our troops and munitions of war wherever we pleased, and so far, without the loss of a ship, or even of a man. Submarine piracy—a policy of desperation—had not then begun. The quality of the New Army, the rapidity with which its recruits were being turned into soldiers, not only impressed the public, but took by complete surprise the severest of military critics.
This is not the place for discussing how Lord Kitchener came to be appointed Secretary of State for War, or to attempt an estimate of his character and career.[[2]] He was no politician, but a soldier and an administrator. He was in his sixty-fifth year, and since he had left the Royal Military Academy in 1871, by far the greater part of his work had been done abroad—in the Levant, Egypt, South Africa, and India.[[3]] In no case had he ever failed at anything he had undertaken. The greater part of his work had been completely successful; much of it had been brilliantly successful. He believed in himself; the country believed in him; foreign nations believed in him. No appointment could have produced a better effect upon the hearts of the British people and upon those of their Allies. The nation felt—if we may use so homely an image in this connection—that Lord Kitchener was holding its hand confidently and reassuringly in one of his, while with the other he had the whole race of politicians firmly by the scruff, and would see to it that there was no nonsense or trouble in that quarter.
It is no exaggeration to say that from that time to this,[[4]] Lord Kitchener's presence in the Cabinet has counted for more with the country, than that of any other minister, or indeed than all other ministers put together. That in itself proves his possession of very remarkable qualities; for nine such months of public anxiety and private sorrow, as England has lately known, will disturb any reputation which is not firmly founded upon merit. During this time we have seen other reputations come and go; popularities made, and unmade, and remade. We have seen great figures all but vanish into the mist of neglect. But confidence in Lord Kitchener has remained constant through it all. Things may have gone wrong; the Government may have made mistakes; even the War Office itself may have made mistakes; yet the faith of the British people in the man of their choice has never been shaken for an instant.
HIS GRASP OF ESSENTIALS
The highest of all Lord Kitchener's merits is, that being suddenly pitchforked into office by an emergency, he nevertheless grasped at once the two or three main features of the situation, and turned the whole force of his character to dealing with them, letting the smaller matters meanwhile fall into line as best they might. He grasped the dominating factor—that it was essential to subordinate every military and political consideration to supporting France, whose fight for her own existence was equally a fight for the existence of the British Empire. He grasped the urgent need for the enrolment of many hundreds of thousands of men fit for making into soldiers, if we were to win this fight and not lose it. He grasped the need for turning these recruits into soldiers at a pace which hardly a single military expert believed to be possible. He may, or may not, have fully grasped at the beginning, the difficulties—mainly owing to dearth of officers—with which he was faced: but when he did grasp them, by some means or another, he succeeded in overcoming them.
It is dangerous to speak of current events in confident superlatives; but one is tempted to do so with regard to the training of the New Army. Even the most friendly among expert critics believed that what Lord Kitchener had undertaken was a thing quite impossible to do in the prescribed time. Yet he has done it. And not only the friendly, but also the severest critics, have admitted that the New Army is already fit to face any continental army, and that, moreover, to all appearance, it is one of the finest armies in history. The sternest proof is yet to come; but it is clear that something not far short of a miracle has been accomplished.
If we search for an explanation of the miracle, we find it quite as much in Lord Kitchener's character as in his methods. Fortunately what was so painfully lacking in the political sphere was present in the military—Leadership.